Now the award for evolution’s most pointless creation. Previous winners include the wasp, the mosquito, the cockroach, and the Joey Essex. This month, for its outstanding contribution to ruining lives, the award goes to the humble flea.

A Bug’s Life gives a mighty rose-tinted version of fleas. They don’t run a ramshackle but charming circus – they run riot across our house and have got a serious taste for my blood. Evolution has, this season, given them gas masks. They just WON’T FUCKING (sorry mum) DIE.

In spite of all this nature hopping around (no squirrels here – they have POSSUMS. Nobody told me about that or i’d have been here sooner) it’s surprisingly easy to forget I’m in Australia. Nothing is quite different enough to trigger homesickness, not even the weather, which is more unpredictable than I could have imagined. Only a fool leaves home without an umbrella, sunglasses, a bikini and a jumper. But every so often I find myself doing something here that acts as a big happy slap across the face reminder. Trips to Circular Quay normally do it. So does Bondi beach (Bondi Vet and Bondi Rescue, by the way, are the best programmes Australia has to offer, sorry Neighbours). This week it was when I found myself on a Tuesday evening at the Moonlight Outdoor Cinema drinking champagne and not being cold. I keep thinking I remember what it’s like to feel cold, but the coldest I’ve felt for 4 months is 18 degrees. This led to the discussion “what did we actually DO back in England?” How did we fill our evenings and weekends without sitting in parks or waking round lakes or eating mangoes on the beach? And there’s another thing: what did we eat!? What was life before Australian food? HOW CAN WE EVER GO BACK TO A LAND WHERE THE TREES ARE FROSTY, THE FLOOR IS WET AND THE AVOCADOS ARE HARD. I’m suffering from reverse homesickness.