On our first morning in London, I came down to my cousin’s kitchen wearing my pink hat. ‘You’re not wearing that!’ she cried.

‘Why? What’s wrong with it?’

‘You look like a tourist!’

‘But I am a tourist!’

‘You look like an America tourist!’

I laughed. ‘That doesn’t matter!’

‘A silly American tourist!’

I really love my pink hat. I deliberately bought it for the trip because it is bright and bold – and my son would be able to see me easily if we were ever separated from one another. The hat also offered a way for my online friends to identify me without any trouble. It turned out my cousin wasn’t really putting down Americans, only that my hat might cause me to be mugged. Not a nice thought. But I’m too much of an Australian to go out on sunny days without a hat. Every day so far in England has been blue skied and warm. It feels like a very warm autumn to me, but it is really an English spring.

The first day in London day was purely and simply for my son. We went on a flight on the London Eye, listening to a New Zealand guide as he pointed out all the famous places from our high vantage point. No matter in what direction we looked, the city of London was spread out in all its glory. Then we met an online friend of mine for lunch, before heading off to meet my cousin and her children at the London Dungeon. That’s another place my hat got me in trouble. It got me a starring role in one of their mini plays when I found myself in the docks and being accused of running naked and acting in a strange and witch-like manner at Bexley Heath. I pleaded insanity (citing hat proof of that!) rather than go with the suggestion of baring my breasts for public inspection.

My cousins have been giving me very hard time about my Tudor obsession. Even so, they drove me hours and hours to Petersborough just so I could visit Katherine of Aragon’s last resting place at the beautiful Peterborough Cathedral and took us to Dover Castle for exhibition on Henry VIII. Dover Castle was not too far away from the park where my cousins have a caravan.

The day and a bit we spent there was earmarked family. Strangely, I have never met my cousin's mother - who is actually my real cousin. We have a complicated web of family in England that extends out far and wide. When we first came out to England in '94, my uncle put the word out and asked who would like to put us up for a week of our time in England. The cousin I'm staying with now is the one who kindly invited us into her home. She and her family have stayed with us in Australia a few times since then, and the bridge between our two families has strengthened over the years.

Anyhow - - it was really time I met her mother. At first, she was unable to see the markers of kinship between us. But soon she was able to identify lots of physical traits common to the family. Funny how much that comforted me. I am feeling so much at home with my English cousins they might find it difficult to get rid of me!