happily, this morning i awoke in my own bed. it feels like i have been away for a very long time, even though it has really only been twenty days.

back in my childhood bed in the family home in singapore, my first couple of nights were graced between the hours of two and four by a swarm of mosquitoes descending on my extremities (including ‘head’). soon i was no longer distinguishable from the hapless heartland kids with the scabbies dotted up and down their legs. the midnight feasts only stopped when i moved into my good mother’s bedroom, where she sleeps, gently snoring, after meditating — sitting bolt upright on a cushion, facing the wall, in air conditioned comfort. sleeping in an air conditioned room makes me feel unwell.

and then several nights in a tent in tasmania, before a last night in a damp-smelling room above a pub. not that reassuring quiet dankness of moss-covered forest undergrowth, but the funky odour that makes you suspect something has gone wrong with the plumbing in the attached bathroom. damp-smelling rooms make me feel unhappy.

but now, hurrah, my bed and i are reacquainted. to celebrate i shall be taking four naps, one after the other. and then maybe i’ll tell you about the day of the chocolate in singapore, and about the baked goods (every day, oh yes!) in tasmania.