This year, the powers of Easter and Anzac Day have combined to hand me a five-day long weekend. Five days!
I'm using this bounty to visit family, and one of the things I've learnt, in this visit, is braille. And when I say learnt, I don't mean to say I've mastered even the smallest skerrick of it. I mean to say I've witnessed someone typing my name on a braille typewriter.
That, there, reads Deb.
Afterwards I closed my eyes and practiced running my finger over the braille … and I couldn't even tell where one letter ended and the next started.