It took some time and stress and work, but I am back to the life I desire.

I have a steaming mug of coffee beside me, I'm listening to the early silliness on Radio National (sleep still eludes me a bit), and the sunrise-tinged morning seeps in through the open balcony door.

On the weekend, M took me hunting. The eerie light hid a mild afternoon, and through my considerable nervousness I still marvelled at the vast landscape. We were only about 150km from Perth and there was just red soil and big skies and these huge cars. There was something so primal about the whole exercise.
I won't say I didn't almost faint at some point in the night, when the smell of expired animals just got too much, but there was less blood and more excitement than I expected.

So, mine and M's cultural exchange has begun. I have gone hunting, in April we're going to Carmen. He's given me a hunting book to read, I have promised him some Winton.

In the next few days, I hope to gather up some lazy minutes, and write about the adventures in Bremer Bay, the even bigger adventures with Bud recently and just settle into a happy routine that I've yearned for, it feels like forever.

. . .