Hmmmm...

The world outside is Sydney.

The Sydney Tower is right outside the hotel window. Like a giant cable-bound Peeping Tom, only about 70 metres too tall to bother me. The lights of the big buildings meld into the light of suburbia, and these twinkle away to the horizon north of me.

Inside, it's the same. A desk, a bed, a TV. Hotel room familiarity. The kind that breeds comtempt. The TV with a schedule of programmes that really is quite unsatisfactory. The hum of the aircon. The aircon that is always too cold. The hotel room art, invariably a numbered, signed print of an original. The bath room with no natural light.

Winge. Moan. My life is so hard. 5 star hotel. Shopping in one of the best cities in the world. There's a note on my pillow that says I have the choice of six types of pillows. I got up-graded to a Club Room. Down the hall is the Club Lounge, and according to my personalised letter from the General Manager, presented to me at check, I have full use of the club facilities. Free internet, free drinks, and nibbles between five and seven. My meal was a phone call away. I have a coffee machine in the room.

Sheesh - perspective is a hard, heavy thwack to the cranium.

I don't enjoy travelling on business, being away from home and the girls. I don't like missing Significant Moments. I don't like cooling my heels in airport lounges, sitting on tarmacs, or the whoosh-click-click of hotel room doors. But the truth is, this travel has its upside. I've seen some amazing places, met some neat people, collected a bunch of amazing airpoints and felt the thrill of coming home.

And I guess it's become a part of the plot of our story. Imagine what we would have been without the travel. A dimension of who we've become would just simply be missing. Dimension has cost. There's today epiphany. Dimension and depth carry a price tag. The richer the fabric, the more you pay.

So, a question begs an answer. The cost has been paid, the dimension bought, but to what end? What do we put our dimension to. Does the richness of our fabric serve a purpose, or hang on the wall like a tapestry.

Hmmmm.