I’m a city girl, born and bred, that cannot be denied. For 33 years I occupied one of the busiest and most cosmopolitan cities in the world (okay, the country), Sydney. I never realised that anything was missing until we moved to what Sydneysiders call ‘the North Coast’ 3 years ago.

My tolerance has since gradually dropped for things like road rage, pollution, queues and ill-mannered people. When I visit the city now, these things seem magnified way beyond their original proportions, even though it has probably always been that way and I’m just not used to it anymore.

I had one of those moments today when I felt a positive affirmation that we made the right choice in moving here. One of those things that make me understand why, here of all places, I finally feel like I'm home.

It is Saturday, and my husband left the house at 9.30am this morning to go surfing. His boss telephoned shortly thereafter to ask if he was available to complete some urgent work. As we live in a small beach ‘village’, rather than walking or driving to fetch my husband, I phoned a friend with a beach view 3 streets away and asked him if he could spot my husband in the water.

He peered out his window and replied “Yep. He’s on shore about to paddle back out. What’s up ?”. I explained the situation. “Just a sec,”  he said. This was followed by the sound of a window being opened, and then a loud whistle. After a short pause (which I imagine was filled with his frantic gesturing and waving), he returned to the phone. “He’s on his way,” was the cheerful pronouncement “and he says to ask you do you need milk ?”.

Speaks for itself, doesn’t it ?