I’ve been on holiday. It was great. We stayed in a cottage in the middle of angulsea. I thihought it was really fun. And the log fire was tremenddous.
Holidays appeal to my inner child somehow. Although the log fire was rather good fun. Except when it stubbornly refused to catch fire. Every time my father sees a fire he starts off, “you know, there’s something deep about watching a fire, something primeval, somehow.” The conversation ebbs and flows for a few seconds before we all realise that we’ve discussed the issue before. Every bonfire night.
Still, it’s the familiarity which makes family holidays so enjoyable.
I’m hoping to actually post something over the next few weeks. Maybe even once a day. Although it may have to wait until after the weekend, as I’m horrendously booked up, starting with a 5:58 train tomorrow morning. Oh well.
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