As soon as you enter the warmly lit cabin you take in the familiar aromas of crushed blackberry, fig and baking spices. You leave your boots by the threshold, careful not to carry in any wet clay from outside. The door to the study is ajar and there he sits, reading peacefully. You glimpse the eucalyptus trees billowing through the window behind him, then cross into the room which smells of cigar box and white pepper. He lowers his glasses and looks up at you. “Home at last,” you think to yourself.