There’s a package the size of a manuscript on my doorstep.

I’m not expecting any packages, or manuscripts. I’ve been away on a family camping trip to the Snowys where I read Daphne du Maurier’s Rebecca. (I’ll often bring a classic, or a book I feel I’ve missed, on holidays. Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina came with me to Lord Howe Island, as did Cormac McCarthy’s The Road. Last year when I went to the Tarkine I took Kazuo Ishiguro’s Never Let Me Go.)