So, confirming the small world theory, when I was in Poland I ran into Justine McNally, an old friend from university. We weren't really in the same circle of friends; it was as though around third year our circles had signed some sort of free-trade agreement or treaty to provide some new people to get drunk around once in a while. Running into McNally in a night on the turps was always good value because we could always spend half an hour being generally hilarious: paying out the various tragedies that made it past the bouncers in Friday's; reviewing the latest batch of speeches at 21st birthday parties, and invariably agreeing that the best one was given by one of us; solving world peace and so forth.

So where in Poland did I run into her? Auschwitz. Fucking Auschwitz. Very little opportunity for witty banter within those walls, let me tell you.

We sort-of half recognised each other a few times, but this is Auschwitz, how could we run into someone from Brisbane here? Admittedly, she may have been thrown off by my two-month-old travelling beard, but I have no excuse. Anyway, we briefly caught up, swapped email addresses, and well, that was it. It was Auschwitz, I don't think you're allowed to have enjoyable conversations. Justine was on one of those bus tours so she had to stay with the collective, and I was leaving Krakow the next day, so, well, that was that. I guess we'll meet in another three years, maybe in Hiroshima that time. That would be great.