Travel Rash - Aug 8, 2004 - Melbourne, Victoria, Australia

After five weeks of outdoorsy fresh air and exercise, I get home and the contrast couldn't be greater - I'm holed up at a desk in a front room of my house staring at a computer screen. Melbourne is cold, and no matter what I do I can't get myself thoroughly warm, except in the shower - my shower, I love my shower. Perhaps because of the sudden change in climate, or the imminent onset of some rare tropical disease, my skin has broken out in a fine rash.

I love my whole house too, modest as it is, and I love Melbourne. Everything is clean and works properly. The streets don't have potholes and litter, and the supermarkets are stocked with so many goods. I have to remember how to drive my car and the money looks weird. After eating out for five weeks, I'm excited about cooking.

Of course, seeing Jane and my kids at the airport is a fantastic thrill - we all beam and embrace. But the next day they're all off to school and work, and I'm left alone in the house with the world's best CD collection, a bag full of filthy clothes... and a job to do.

I gather up my reams of notes, maps, books, in-flight magazines, telephone directories, newspaper cuttings and brochures, and only then realise that they weigh nearly 10kg. I set up my computer, brew some coffee (PNG Highlands Arabica, naturally) and check my emails, marvelling at the speed of my 56k modem. I re-read my author brief, browse through my 100s of digital photos... and go and make some toast.

The write-up part of guidebook authoring is hard, and procrastination is an important part of the mental preparation. It's not just that the writing needs to be accurate, lively and entertaining, but also succinct - this edition of the book will be shorter than its predecessor. And with the redesign of LP books there's practically nothing I can use from the previous edition - the job is a total rewrite. The challenge is keeping it informative and colourful when every adjective conspires against the overall word-count. If it's too dense and dull, it's just unreadable.

After a couple of days I've made a decent start, but the house is a mess. After so many hotel rooms I want to hang a sign on my front door that says 'please make up my house.'