The Argumentative Reader might be inclined to question whether we really need these all the way back home slices of narrative, but they are, in fact here for a purpose.
Firstly, as far as I’m concerned, a journey starts when you leave home and finishes when you return and writing one up that way delivers a sense of symmetry.
Or, if you like, the departure marks a temporary end to your mundane, day to dray existence while the return signals the resumption.
Second, there’s the actual purpose behind these narratives, which, really, has nothing to do with The Argumentative Reader and his/her ilk. It’s all very well to gallivant around the countryside and catch interesting and intriguing sights, but you need a way to remember them, and the discipline involved in sitting down and doing the writing is an enjoyable part of the process.
There’ll be somewhere down the track when some vaguely-remembered happening will come up in conversation. Cassowaries, or interesting multi-national couples, perhaps, in a conversation that runs something like this:
That time we saw the cassowary in the yard.
Yes, that was on the way back from Japan. The Costello concert trip.
Not the coloured leaves trip?
No, that was the cassowary at Etty Bay. Remember? We bought pies in Mourilyan and needed somewhere to rest…
So the cassowary in the yard was Licuala Lodge.
That’s the one. With the interesting Swiss-Brazilian couple…
And, of course, there’s a third reason for including the back home leg in the narrative. It gives you a chance to try a different tack when it comes to the actual write-up.
We weren’t quite sure whether it was time to head across for breakfast this particular morning, and I was biding my time waiting for someone and doing something with the iPad when I noticed a movement down there on my left. Not much of a movement, just the sort of thing that catches your eye.