When you need to walk down a gravel track in the middle of the night in order to lie on your back in a grassy meadow and stare up at the great cloak of stars spread across the dark mass of the sky, while the stream burbles quietly to your left and the native owl tells you its name, “Ru-ru, Ru-ru, Ru-ru”, you can use your iPod to find your way back to the street.
And that’s why!
I’m in New Zealand for my brother’s wedding – the first child married for both immediate families, which is all sorts of exciting. My mother made me a beautiful dress; I have sparkly shoes; I have fascinating new hair. Bring on the free bar.
(Justine Larbalestier will try to tell you that YA writers never drink. Justine Larbalestier wrote a book from the point of view of an accomplished compulsive liar. I allow you to draw your own conclusions.)