It's going to be a tearful weekend for me. My very good friends Guy and Linley are emigrating with their two small children to New Zealand on Sunday.

And I'm missing them already.

There will be no more popping round to each other's houses for tea and cake.

No more borrowing each other's books. No more returning babysitting favours. No more phone chats about the previous night's episode of ER.

They are, much to my selfish annoyance, flying off to start a new life on the other side of the world.

I think they're a little sad about it, too. For the past couple of years they have lived in Brighton, having moved, after much badgering from me, from a very dull corner of Hertfordshire.

And I know they have loved it down here. Who wouldn't? They've drunk cocktails at The Grand, been regulars at the Duke of Yorks Cinema and trailed through all the open houses during the Brighton Festival.

But for Linley, who is Antipodean by birth, the wet winters have finally proved too much for her. Understandably, she wants her children to enjoy the kind of sunny, outdoor life she herself had as a child.

And with the money they've made on their terraced house in Brighton, they'll be able to buy a large homestead outright in New Zealand - probably with its own swimming pool.

"Look, it won't be that bad," she said last week as I, once again, lamented her imminent departure. "They've introduced a new international phone rate in New Zealand, which means I can spend six hours on the same call to you for just £2.50.

"And there is email and the post. And then you can come and stay with us."

"I know," I said, fighting back the tears. "But by the time we see each other again, we'll be old and grey and our children will have grown up and we'll have nothing left in common.

"But, no, you must go," I then said, in my best martyr's voice. "It will be wonderful for all of you. You won't regret it."

I suppose what I'm really feeling right now is a little bit of envy. They're about to escape the bony fingers of winter here and enter the warm embrace of a southern hemisphere summer. They'll be having barbies on the beach at Christmas and be slapping on the factor 50 sun lotion on New Year's Day.

During the next few months I'll no doubt be hearing about their expeditions into the mountains or their outings to New Zealand's clean and civilised cities.

Meanwhile, I'll be schlepping through the wet streets of Brighton, dragging a three-year-old who wants to stamp in all the puddles. Or we'll be huddled indoors watching the Tweenies on telly and eating chocolate fingers for comfort.

If we're lucky, we might have a bit of watery sunshine next April to lift our bleak spirits. By then, of course, Linley and Guy will be investing a jumper or two to cope with the slightly cooler temperatures of their winter.

There are drawbacks to living in New Zealand, I know.

Linley and Guy have been visiting all the places of interest in Sussex for the past few months because they want to get their fill of history before going off to the New World.

And, to be honest, it doesn't sound the most vibrant of places. But if someone were to offer me the chance to spend the next six months spotting kiwis in the Kaimanawa Mountains, I'd be booking my flight right now.