In a world without COVID-19, this past week would have been very different. On Thursday afternoon, a picture-perfect summer day, I would have picked my parents up and delivered them to our house for their (almost) yearly sojourn to Austria.
There would have been lots of hugs and probably a few tears. We might have had a BBQ on the back terrace, listening about how their trip had gone so far – a cruise from Prague to Berlin – possibly they would have had to deal with colds or other difficulties, but they would be in good spirits because they had finally arrived in Austria.
During our recent trip to 
When I returned from my recent Christmas trip to Australia, no one really cared how my holiday was. They just wanted to know two things:
Australia Day has different meanings for different people. For indigenous Australians it has always been steeped in unpleasantness, but that’s not what I’m here to discuss. I’m here to tell you that Australia Day for me was never about the arrival or subsequent invasion of the British. For me, Australia Day has, at least from when I was a teenager, been about the 
None of which, by the way, I saw on my recent trip to Australia.
The Christmas just gone I spent a whole month in Australia. One. Whole. Month. Which should be enough time to catch up with everyone, shouldn’t it? Well it was, and it wasn’t. Juggling Christmas, with family commitments, holidays and going back to work, time seemed to get sucked away