Day 9 at Howard Springs. The Prime Minister talked about the place the day before, it seems returning Australians from overseas might be mass-quarantined here in the 2,000 rooms left of the 3,000. For the first time it rained overnight and our “street” momentarily lost its internment camp look. And in the afternoon, fifteen from our block were permitted to walk, single file, to the large swimming pool and do laps or paddle for forty-five minutes. Two minor events but they drive a wedge into the monotony that has been bedevilling me. Of course, a writer with a pile of material and a slate of tasks should never be afflicted with tedium, but there you go, we don’t know how a day will turn out until it does. New energy…