Time for a holiday

As I sit here trying to contemplate something worthy to say, I type in a sort of sleep-deprived delirium, pickled and coated in a thin, pungent, sticky veneer of recycled air that clings to the skin (and somehow manages to linger despite showering)– the tell-tale signs and unavoidable pitfalls of long-haul air travel (Awww, diddums. I can already hear the high pitch tuning of baby violins.) Sure, I question the wisdom of posting after only five hours combined sleep in two days, I write between extended blinks– I’m impressed I can even string together a coherent thought (debatable, yes)– but after so many weeks’ absence I feel needs must. It ticks a box, and though certainly not worthy, for the obsessive-compulisve in me is bizarrely...