Home is where the heart is. But what if the heart is in two places? Former ODT sports editor Brent Edwards explains how his is often torn between two countries 16,000km apart.
Home is where the heart is, they reckon.
The difference for me, I suppose, is that while much of my heart is in Otago, part of it will always be in Devon.
That's hardly surprising.
I met my wife, Liz, while we were working in Exeter, the county town of Devon, in the 1970s and it's been a big part of our lives since.
Exeter has similarities to Dunedin.
Its population is about 130,000, it's a compact university city and, while the heart of Dunedin is the Octagon, the spiritual centre of Exeter is the Cathedral Close.
Both cities are the gateway to tourist attractions - Dunedin to Central Otago, Exeter to North Devon and Cornwall.
The difference is that Exeter is less isolated.
London is two and a-half hours away by train.
And, unlike the sizeable distances between small towns in Otago, there are endless towns and villages dotted around Devon.
Most might come out of a picture postcard - colourful hanging baskets, whitewashed houses with thatched roofs and the inevitable village pub.
The West Country climate is mild, by English standards.
The temperature varied between 17deg and 20deg in the three weeks we were there, in September and early October, and there was no rain.
It is not as chilly as Dunedin in the mornings and evenings.
We have been back to Devon seven times since the 1970s and, as usual, we were based with my wife's parents at Exmouth, a seaside town of about 35,000 which is 15km from Exeter.
Because I had to dialyse three nights a week at Honiton Hospital, we spent all our time in Devon apart from two days in Cornwall and one in Somerset.
Honiton is only about 30km from Exmouth but it is a lovely 45-minute drive through narrow country lanes.
If you intend to explore Devon and Cornwall, hire a smaller car.
It wouldn't be much fun negotiating a people-mover between the hedgerows.
You'll notice the drivers are extremely courteous, much more so than New Zealanders.
You'll also notice a large percentage of cyclists without helmets which, to me, seems akin to Russian roulette.
We tried to make each dialysis session an adventure by stopping off at a different village as we drove to Honiton via Knowle, Colaton Raleigh, East Budleigh, Newton Poppleford (where we once battled to finish the biggest cream teas I've ever seen), Sidford and Sidbury.
Devonians are immensely proud of their villages and the fetes are the big events of the year.
Sidbury had its fete while we were there and it was adorned with bunting as the villagers had a week of activities and celebrations.
Exeter is easily accessed from Exmouth - a short ride by car or coach, or an enjoyable train ride alongside the River Exe past the villages of Lympstone and Topsham.
Exeter suffered 18 German bombings during World War 2 and much of the city centre was flattened.
A feature of the city in recent times has been the development of the quayside, a fashionable part of the city where people enjoy a drink and a meal at one of the numerous pubs alongside the river.
Small towns abound close to both Exeter and Exmouth, the likes of Sidmouth, Dawlish, Teignmouth, Newton Abbot, the not-so-small Torquay and Paignton.
There is no shortage of places to go, or things to do.
On my father-in-law's 90th birthday we drove to Teignmouth and had lunch at a restaurant overlooking the seafront.
Another day we drove across Dartmoor, where I used to rock-climb with workmates in the 1970s, and stopped for a snack at Widecombe-in-the Moor, famous for its annual fair and folksong Uncle Tom Cobley and All.
There are many boat trips available in East Devon and one day we took the ferry from Exmouth to Starcross, where we wandered around the village and had lunch before our return trip.
No trip to Devon would be complete without a visit to my wife's birthplace, Axminster, a market town famous for its carpet industry which started in 1755.
One of the pleasures of returning to Devon is visiting our old haunts, which we frequented when we were young and carefree.
The Swan's Nest, at Exminster (near Exeter), our favourite pub in the 1970s, maintains its high standards.
It is in a beautiful rural setting and we had two choices from lamb, beef, turkey and pork as we celebrated with a roast dinner.
We had a weekend away exploring North Devon and stayed at the venerable Bath Hotel in Lynmouth, on the coast.
We drove through Tiverton, Dunster, Minehead and had lunch at Porlock, a village on the outskirts of Exmoor in Lorna Doone country.
The twin villages of Lynmouth and Lynton are referred to as "little Switzerland", unsurprisingly as both have an alpine feel and look to them.
There was disaster in Lynmouth in 1952 when more than 20cm of rain flooded the village and caused the loss of 34 lives.
The town was rebuilt after the tragedy and the river diverted around the village.
Lynton is more than 100m above Lynmouth and we caught the Lynton and Lynmouth Cliff Railway, which was opened back in 1890.
The reward at the top is a spectacular view to the south Wales coast.
Our hotel hugged into the cliff face and we were able to sit at our window and either watch people shopping in the street below or look out to sea.
While shopping is one of my pet aversions in New Zealand, I find the shops in Devon fascinating because, as well as the impersonal supermarkets, there are still old-fashioned specialist shops.
Butchers, greengrocers, confectioners - the range of sweets in Devon is remarkable - and drapers still seem to be thriving as well as surviving.
The next day we set off for Clovelly via Coombe Martin, Hele Bay, Braunton, Croyde, Barnstaple and Bideford.
Clovelly is one of Devon's best-known tourist attractions, a fishing village whose steep, cobbled streets are not accessible by car.
We paid £5.75 (an exorbitant fee) at the car park and made the steep descent down to the harbour.
Those who are unable to make the journey on foot pay an extra £2 to be transported up and down by Land Rover.
It's quaint, no doubt about it, and I've always enjoyed going there, but it has become a victim of commercialisation.
We returned - via Appledore and Instow - to Lynmouth where we had a drink in the late afternoon sun and dined on fish and chips, always a sure bet in coastal Devon.
The next day it was back to Exmouth after stopping for lunch at the Trout Inn, at Bickleigh.
Exmouth lends itself to walking and, from my in-laws' house, we could take four or five different routes to the seafront.
The air is clean and fresh; the stretch of golden sand, from the quay or Orcombe Point, is one of the longest in Britain and crowded throughout the summer.
Beach huts run for much of the length of the seafront.
The English rent them each year and use them to change into their swimming togs and/or to eat their lunch and afternoon tea while they have a day at the beach.
It's a quaint English custom, one of many in this most beautiful of English counties where, outside of Exeter and Plymouth, life moves at a leisurely pace and Devonians are instantly identifiable by their distinctive accents.
Time, inexorably, moves on and we have to leave.
It's always difficult, particularly for my wife.
But, with luck, we'll return in the not too distant future to what has become our second home.
If you go:
www.visitdevon.co.uk
