Two days is not enough!

My two days off has passed in a rush of activity although looking back I can't see what has been achieved. There should be no problem with filling in time when the shop closes! Today I spent an unconscionable amount of time booking train tickets to Cornwall. Not much excitement there in these days of world travel, but for me it was BIG. I haven't been on public transport since the end of the last millenium. I drive everywhere. 700 miles in one day is nothing to me. On the other hand I remember that on my way home last time, as I sat with my hands cramped to the wheel somewhere around Carlisle with another five hours to go, thinking: "This is daft! I could be comfortably reading a book, or writing, or watching the scenery." My ex tells me it's not so comfortable as all that. The last time he went anywhere by train he travelled frst class and it still wasn't comfortable. Well, I'm coming back in a 1st class sleeper so there! I don't like sharing with strangers.

The long stand in a draughty station this mornng very nearly put me off. Then I thought of my intrepid friend about to fly off to the States to help her daughter have her baby and decided I could probably put up with it.

I've bought myself a nice carpet bag to celebrate. It will look so shiny and new and delightful I am bound to be mugged for it.

The next plan is to bake cakes and Christmas puds to take with me to save on postage. If I put them in a separate bag I can throw a pudding at the mugger if necessary.

I'm glad I did some travelling when I was younger. We drove twice to Greece through Tito's Yugoslavia. That was a journey to remember. The first time was in an old Citroën that took in water before we got to Dover and caused lorry drivers in Germany to hoot angrily because we were going too slowly. The second time was a little more comfortable in a Renault 12. I never did like that car much but it was a good work horse, toiling through the Swiss Alps, panting along dirt roads through the Pelopónnisos in temperatures of - well, it wasn't exactly Death Valley but it felt dashed hot to me sir.

We once left Brussels at the same time as the entire Greek and Turkish work force headed back to their native lands for the summer holidays. The only hotel we could find along the road after fourteen hours driving was so full we had to wait whilst a family left and a maid went into the room to change the sheets. The 'clean' ones were still damp, verging on wet. I have never slept so well.

We saw a lot of France. It's so easy to go to Paris now my London-living daughter goes often for weekends - it's closer than going to see her brother in Cornwall. There is one serious draw-back to living in Scotland - it's far away from anywhere if like me you prefer to travel by car.