There are no Teddy bears in Banstead Woods – that’s where we were just over a week ago when Chris and I stayed with our good friends John and Barbara (Chris and John went to school together). Having spent the night at Belmont, next morning we went for a walk in the famous woods close to the grand house where Chris lived for much of his childhood. Until then I had no idea that the woods Chris had spoken of with such fondness, where he and his brother Jeremy had many great adventures, was even better known historically as the woods King Henry VIII bought for his new love, and second wife, Anne Boleyn.

The paths are wide and the trees, mostly still winter bare, are tall and stately; the bluebells, inspired by the sunshine, were just beginning to show their blue buds and hinted at the prospect of oceans of blue under the trees in a few weeks. We stood by a man-made pond and pondered on the fact that King Henry VIII had it dug as a watering place for the deer.

There was something magical about walking in woods so full of history. I kept thinking of Anne Boleyn meeting her lover in a secret tryst in a thicket or on sweet smelling beds of bluebells. I could nearly hear the huntsmen and the courtiers. I fancied I saw King Henry on horseback. When I checked out my photographs this morning I found to my amazement that, indeed, there was magic afoot…

It was soon time to move on to our next house-sit and I was a tad worried about the big cavity in one of my back molars, the one that has long since lost the temporary filling my dentist at home had put in (at no cost – but then it wasn’t worth much because it didn’t last the course and I was somewhat “up a gum tree” or without a paddle!). Ever since the filling had come out I had been looking for “DentaFix” (the elusive and perhaps apocryphal temporary filling material supposedly available in Australian chemists and pharmacies) to no avail; then Chris arrived with a little pot of something similar for the same purpose… Sadly, Chris’s inferior product from England lasted but a day or so on each attempt to fill up my cavity (not unlike the Scottish dentist Phillip McCavity) and the pot was empty after four tries, though it has to said that it was only a small tub, not a regular bucket, and had a diameter of about a centimetre!

Fearing toothache or an abscess (probable according to my dentist), I decided to take the plunge and visit an expensive Australian dentist; our friend Roland with whom we were staying advised that there was a “Gentle Dentist” just a couple of miles down the road. The kind receptionist at the “Gentle Dentist” was most understanding. Having an English boyfriend herself, and knowing that he would not shell out on Australian dentistry, the young lady well understood my reluctance to readily agree to book up for a slot with the soft dentist, which would have meant an immediate fee of $50 plus whatever the new temporary filling would cost – possibly another $95. And I would have had to wait until next Tuesday, and I wasn’t even going to be in the area at that time. I left the tender receptionist at the wimpy dentist establishment and my eyes scanned the car park for Chris who had been waiting patiently for fifteen minutes.

“Darling,” he called waving an arm to grab my attention.

He hadn’t been all that patient actually. While I was pouring out my heart to the compassionate receptionist my husband had gone on a mission in the small shopping complex.

“How much was it?” he asked urgently.

“About $145 for a temporary filling – I didn’t even bother to ask the price of a proper filling,” I added.

“Did you book? I was so worried you’d book or, worse still, you were so long that I thought you were having it done now,” Chris looked for confirmation.

“No,” I said, “it takes a good while to discuss delicate matters with kind receptionists. Besides, they couldn’t see me until Tuesday and I explained that I would like to hunt for a cheaper dentist, but hopefully not a rough dentist.”

“Phew! That’s good,” said Chris proudly holding aloft a tube of…. DentaFix!

“No!”

“Yes,” laughed Chris, “the pharmacist told me they had just come in – $13.99!”

Two days on and my self administered temporary DentaFix filling is still whole and in place, and the prospect of the last few weeks of my stay in my homeland is rosy – or more aptly, sunny. We’re house-sitting again at Seventeen Mile Rocks, a suburb of Brisbane not too far from the Botanical Gardens, and it’s very hot. It’s so hot that I’m writing with one strong fan behind me and another in front, so I’m sandwiched between lovely cool air. The only trouble is that I’ve become used to the cool air and now I can’t move. Luckily, I don’t have to do a thing now – all the housework was done this morning, which reminds me of a funny incident…

At the time I was busy cleaning – my hand in a bucket of water – when a handsome strawberry blond snuck into the room.

“What are you doing in here? Can’t you see that you shouldn’t be in here at the moment?” I asked.

“I only came in to use the convenience,” he answered with a withering look, “I didn’t know there were any birds in here, honestly!”

“I’m afraid you’ll have to go outside for your business, if that’s not too inconvenient for you,” I softened my tone because he was so handsome and appealing.

Gorgeous Sterling went out with his tail between his legs and I shut the door firmly while I finished cleaning the lorikeets’ cages. Mr and Mrs Gregory Peck (as I call them) jumped about freely with glee and I let them hop onto my back and peck at the fake flowers in my hair slides. Gregory licked the sweat off the arm he fancied and now we’re bonded – he was very gentle and soft, like the dentist I didn’t see and won’t be seeing (if the DentaFix holds out!).