My tyres are pumped, oil checked. "Is it between the minimum and the maximum mark?", "yes, Dad". Numerous copies of the RAC's number have been planted in various places. My suitcase is packed. Umbrella, sunglasses, jumpers, suncream, thick boots, light trainers. This is the first time I've holidayed in Britain for many years and you can never be too prepared for all climatic eventualities. Do I miss a straightforward pack as for sunnier, reliable climes? Perhaps. But...here we have the crashing Atlantic, and castle ruins that sit on cliff topss, and wild beaches, and moorlands that transport you to a scene from The Lord of the Rings. We have Dartmoor ponies and tors, exquisitely gentrified country houses with English gardens in full summer bloom. And tricky, fluid Celtic words and pasties.
So yes, this summer I am eschewing the lure of the exotic and staying on my own island to go on a summer holiday in the West Country. I do not know if the lady who has kindly let me stay with her has wi-fi, but if it is possible I will be writing about my adventures in Cornwall here. Adieu!