"Everything's 3D in real life."
So says my younger son Zebedee.
It's a statement no less true for being made on holiday, which is what we are on at the moment. And being on holiday is a state not unlike that of writing fiction, of any stripe. Away from the day-to-day, one makes up new routines, tries out different dialogue, all the while trying to discern what different rules might determine the social customs of the locals.
One is afflicted by a desire to enjoy to the hilt every iota of exotic difference, complicated by the contradictory impulse to fit in with as least friction as possible.
And this is me talking about the south coast of New South Wales.
One thing that is the same as travelling in the Sahara in the 19th century, however, is that you never know how far apart the oases will be, and how much water will be in them. These days, the same principle applies to wireless internet.
So I will send you these, my last words of this bloggy residence, from beneath (I confess) the golden arches.
If there is any water left beneath the date palms after I hit 'send', there are some images coming your way as well.
Thank you, my etheric friends.