"There was smoke everywhere," says Jonny, the Irish friend we're staying with, pointing to the hills "when you drove down this road, all those hills were burning." He's talking about Black Saturday, when the ferocious bush fires ripped through Victoria, heading southwards towards Healesville, the town...

As I leave the station, coffee in hand, the smell of yeast seeps through the traffic fumes of the clogged up arteries in the centre. It's not an instantly recognisable smell, nor a particularly overpowering one, but it's always there, warming and slightly sweet, catching a breeze from the breweries on...

In that blissful period between deep sleep and full consciousness, the phone starts ringing, incessantly.

‘Oh, Katie, you’re still asleep, aren’t you? Will you still pick me up in an hour?’ Alice chirps, sounding like her day is already well underway.

‘Make that two,’ I groan...