Last year I wrote about a week-long retreat in the Blue Mountains with the four writing friends I met on my first Varuna residency back in 2016. We repeated the retreat this year; same house in Katoomba, though slightly later in the year, after the clocks had gone forward, so the weather was more springlike. This meant the log fire didn’t play as pivotal a role as it had previously, but we still built and lit a fire each evening as the late chill set in. There’s something about a log fire that inspires storytelling and confessions.

My focus this time was on forging ahead with my main work-in-progress, which I’m calling a novel though it started out as a collection of four longer short-stories – novellas, perhaps – that have slowly merged. On Day One I dove right into the London section of the novel, having spent weeks wondering where to begin that part, with over 13 years of experiences in that city to mine. You’ve got to start somewhere, and I chose a rather dramatic episode, and then began to write forwards and backwards from that starting point, which may or may not turn out to be the actual start of the London narrative.

The routines at the house were much the same as last time. Some of us would come together each morning to write around the large dining-room table, and we’d break for morning coffee, then later for lunch. The setup had the feel of a very civilised writers room. It was free and easy, and people might disappear into their own rooms, or go off walking or shopping, or for cake and coffee at one of the cafes in Leura or Katoomba. The native birds on the veranda seemed to remember us, or recalled how generous we’d been with the bird food last time.

Evenings were spent slowly preparing dinner, and chatting, and occasionally sharing the work we’d written during the day, although the literary readings weren’t as big a feature as they had been last time. And like last time, each night had a lavish dessert, and old-fashioned after-dinner coffee.

The Saturday evening was given over to watching the Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Voice referendum results on the ABC. But first I had to figure out how to use the television – this was the first time any of us had used it. In fact a couple of people didn’t even know that there was a TV hidden behind the cabinet doors in the living room. In these multi-platform, smart-media days, watching telly is no longer as simple as just turning on the tube, and there was a moment of panic when I lost the channel as Antony Green was at his infographics screen making vital predictions, but Deb stepped in and rescued the moment with an ever-handy restart. And though the abysmal poll predictions had readied us all for a rejection of the referendum’s proposal, I was optimistic that the polls might be way off, and wasn’t prepared for how resoundingly the ‘no’ would echo across Australia. Disappointment doesn’t begin to describe the feeling, and I’m still processing it.

For me, a highlight of the week was the extraordinary quiet and the slow pace. Not in terms of actual noise levels or physical activities, but the quiet in terms of no pressure to do anything or be anywhere. The week represented a blank diary page, one of my favourite things. A true retreat. It felt as if my mind and body had changed gear, shifted down, as though my heart rate had slowed and steadied.

Another highlight was the conversations: so many over the week, group discussions and one-on-one chats. The breakfast nook is always a good place to shoot the breeze. Must be something about the first cup of coffee, the early energy. On the Thursday I met up for coffee and cookies with Carol Major, the mentor who worked with me on my short-story collection during my Varuna fellowship in 2016/17. During our chat, I was reminded of how fortunate I had been, and more importantly how fortunate my collection had been, to find Carol. Her insights into literature and life continue to be invaluable.

I arrived back in Melbourne on Monday afternoon. Everything looked strange, as if I’d been away for months. It took me a few days to decompress, to debrief, to get back in to the swing of things here, to get my head out of the mountains. I thoroughly enjoyed every aspect of the week away, am excited about the ideas it has given me for moving forward, and the tentative plans aired for next year and beyond. It’s always good to be home, though – there’s no place like it.