‘What the…?’ I exclaimed surprised. A wet nose nudged my cheek and a soft purr hummed in my ear. Sylvie was pleased with herself at having leapt up onto my shoulder. From now on, this would be a ritual. Every time I went out to water plants, Sylvie would leap onto my back and claw her way onto my shoulders.

So last night my current host student was showing me how she makes stunningly beautiful collages to post on Instagram - using an array of different apps, tools and media - all very fascinating stuff I had no idea about.

Children ran every which way, many of them in just their birthday suit. They were to sit on the floor at the front of the hall so they could see but none took any responsibility for them, and they ran amok. Crocodile Dundee was showing, and the whole town attended. The building, a tin shed, was called the Progress Hall. The noise level was rising; soon, the roof would lift off.

A question I often get asked is 'Where do you get your ideas from?' And it's a difficult question to answer on the spot. I tend to give a vague answer like 'oh, you know, they just come to me.' Which - technically - that's true. But it is a little more complicated and convoluted than that, and it does tend to take time for a story to mature to the point of being 'readable'.