The Pereiras — Trevor and Charlotte — are relatively new friends of mine. They arrived in Australia two years ago and, like me, are of Anglo-Indian descent although Trevor constantly takes the trouble to remind one he is specifically of Portuguese strain, his ancestors having emerged from the state of Goa, in India. Pereira, he also informs everyone regularly, is the name for pear tree in Portuguese and, indeed, his great granddad in keeping with the family name did own large pear orchards.

Both Trevor and Charlotte’s parents left India years ago and settled in England, so it is via the good old Motherland that T&C have finally ended up here in Australia.

Charlotte worked on an airline for a good while as an air hostess while Trevor had a long-standing job in an auditing firm. He is, in all honesty, a finance man. He knows his fiscal budgets and he actually understands Australia’s tax system which, to me, is so labrynthine I feel like a harmless Minotaur desperately seeking a way out before Theseus the hero arrives to finish me off. (It is said that Daedalus who built the labyrinth in Greek mythology for the legendary King Minos, constructed it so complicated that he himself barely made it out.) All of which of course makes Trevor a money genius in my eyes; he understands every move the department of finance makes and approves or disapproves as the case may be.

Last week, the couple had their silver wedding anniversary so quite appropriately a lot of the occasion was marked by an allusion to ‘silver’, including Trevor’s mane done up in a pony tail that just brushes his bronze shoulders. I mention this because it is probably Trevor’s one concession to modernism. Otherwise, he is as old world as you can find in the 21st century. He owns a posh car but prefers to pedal about on an old bicycle which, he says, goes back a few years. A few hundred years I’d say by the look of it! It belongs in a museum to be honest and Charlotte is quite right in worrying after his well being every time he mounts the bike and waves cheerfully before pedaling away down the road and into traffic.

Charlotte, on the other hand, is his polar opposite. There’s not a trace of silver in her hair or anywhere proximate to be honest but everyone will agree she is the silver lining that helps cope with Trevor’s cynicism. It is true Trevor is the one that will be the first to spot that dark speck of cloud in a cloudless sky. He is careful, he is cautious, he likes to be on time, sometimes hours before an event, he worries about hitches, everything has to be planned meticulously well ahead.

As his wife jokes: “His Christmas shopping gets under way shortly after the New Year has begun.”

As for Charlotte I doubt I’m likely to meet a more open minded individual. Her nature is one that exudes total freedom and love and generosity to one and all – she could be a remnant, a lost child from the Hippie era except that she is a lot cleaner and dresses with a sense of taste for the occasion.

How do two individuals so disparate in outlook manage to keep a union going for a quarter of a century? It’s a good question and I dare say it’s one they have been asked several times because when I do pop the poser to Trevor one evening when just the two of us are together it appears as though he’d been waiting for me to ask it.

“We have common loves, Kev,” he says, “We love each other. We love dancing. We also discovered long ago it’s not people’s differences that drive them apart it’s their common bonds that keep them together. Look at a lot of long-standing marriages, there are common threads linking the couple that they won’t allow anyone to break.”

Kevin Martin is a journalist based in Sydney.