I remember, I remember....

... not the room, but the house where I was born. The GPS lead us up a few garden paths, but we eventually found the the lane, and then the house. I couldn't believe how unchanged it all was. No more houses, no 'development', just the same magical beechwoods, the narrow lane winding up the hill, instant transportation back to the last century. Thanks, I suppose, to the National Trust, or the Green Belt. I just hope that any government plans to tamper with the green belt are doomed to failure.

We had such freedom back then. I don't believe anyone worried when my brother and spent hours in the woods - though we were warned to beware of gypsies. When a chicken disappeared, suspicion was usually divided between them and the foxes. We used to swing on our neighbour's gate, or collect eggs with her, still warm from the chickens. Her own children were grown and gone, but she would get out their toys for us to play with and take us for walks through the fields. She showed me cowslips for the very first time, hiding in the long grass - I'm not sure I've ever seen one since, but I will never forget her and her warmth and kindness.

I had visited the house once before in recent years and, to my daughter's utter consternation, knocked on the door and been very graciously received by the lady who lived there. In fact, she said she was delighted to be able to fill in the gaps, as the local History Society didn't know who had lived in the house during the years our family was there. I still owed them more information, so approached the house again, but before I could knock, an elderly gentleman in gardening clothes came round the corner. It was her husband, who was equally gracious and welcoming. We were on our way to our Brazilian reunion, so unable to stay long, but he called his wife, now rather frail, and they took us into the house. He had even taken the trouble to get out a map someone had sent him, made around 1910, with little illustrations, and the names of all the houses written like a frieze all round the sides.

We reluctantly tore ourselves away and went on to our reunion - more excellent memories. The Brazil virus enters people's system - once one has lived there, it is hard to forget it. We were the only couple still living in Brazil and most, if not all, of the other guests left upwards of 25 years ago, but still try to get together at least once a year. Our hosts provided a perfect location, drinks and nibbles and we all took our picnics to eat on the lawn - in positively Brazilian sunshine.

On our way to our next destination, we drove back up the lane and past the house again, just to fix the memories and enjoy that travelling back in time feeling once again.