We flew back, and I mean right back. Across the tropics, all the way from Capricorn to Cancer, and across half the world to arrive back in winter. Time and space reverted. It’s cold in the north in February, and walking out of the plane was like walking into a fridge.

Welcome back to the real world. It was dark and drizzly. Stale warm air blew out of the doorways, the freshness of aircon already a distant memory. People wore suits and looked serious.

But I wasn’t disappointed because—tonight—we were in Japan, on a one-night stop-over between Australia and the UK. I was five years old again: unable to read, unable to speak, new sights and sounds all around me.

The donging and plinging of countless loudspeakers accompanied us on the way across the airport to the pick-up. We boarded the bus and drove off into the night, joining the orderly multi-lane traffic. With a start I realised that the slender trees we passed at the roadside were not the familiar rows of fir trees but a bamboo copse.