Towards Cornwall in search of...

I cannot begin to describe my excitement at the notion of stepping away from work and London for ten days of blue seas, white sands and the lull of waves rolling in and out of the surf. That is at least my mental vision of Cornwall, which may be proved entirely wrong. Such is the desperation of Babylonbdon urbanitis.

So while I would like to sit here and write about my dream last night and walking along a corridor where each room revealed a different performance, all musicals but with different thematic variations, the ever so popular humans as barn animals wagging their tail at the audience, or a circle of people knitting as they sing hymns, and finally the ashen faced general and his soldiers singing quite somber-serious indie rock, I will have to excuse myself from the table for some serious dose of holiday pill. Toodles for now.