An echidna waddles along the side of the road, all spines and snout, and I slow down in case he decides to cross. But he turns unhurriedly into the long grass, and I am amazed, again, at how he manages to be bizarre and perfect all at the same time. It gives me a sense of peace, and I realise I’m happy enough to be me, to be Dave Martin. I’m pretty sure I couldn’t say that if all this crazy stuff hadn’t happened.