First published on one first day of April, yet this was not (intended to be) funny.

There were so many yachts busily sailing in the pond behind our mansion, we felt it unwise to try and swim.

Still, it was evening, food was cooking…we could smell it.

What was also in the air, was air. Part oxygen, part nitrogen and part aromas of cooking.

We expected guests for dinner from Italy, Bolivia and Taiwan and yes, a few Europeans as they liked to be called.

We were from elsewhere, somewhere beyond reckoning and off the route networks of airlines.

But now we were here, so to speak.