Cornwall came up trumps and gave me everything I was hoping for – a wide selection of weathers, a broad selection of terrains, and a fine selection of real ales. Unfortunately I did manage to pick up a nasty large blister on my right heel, but I guess if I keep you informed about every blister I pick up over the next couple of months, this blog could become extraordinarily repetitive, so we’ll just stick a Compeed on it and limp away from the subject.
Susie came to meet me at Paddington Station on Saturday afternoon, and brought me home to a gin and tonic and the most wonderful homemade lasagne; this greatly helped to ease my return to the busy city, and prevent a bad case of the spiritual ‘bends’.
Never mind seeking to emulate the Celtic Saints during this Sabbatical, I could do worse than just trying to become a little bit more like my wife (except when it comes to hats).
I think, of all people, you are really not one to be dissing hats there Stu. I've always been a great defender of the bright pink Xfm hat whenever it makes an appearance at a barbecue and I feel particularly dissapointed in you for making fun of your wife's fantastic headgear. For shame.
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