aka First World Problem
I'm craving a big trip somewhere.
Next month we're heading to a beach-front cottage on the Cape with my sister and her youngest daughter Grace. Visions of sandcastles and frisbees, deck-chairs and sunsets, will probably give way to tantrums, mosquitoes and sunburn. But for now every time I go to Target I'm buying fun beach stuff for our week in the sun.
Meanwhile Anne and I cannot decide on our next big adventure. Granted Anne is working every spare hour on her new business, but I think our biggest obstacle is balancing an exotic distant destination with the probability that we'll have to take a tour with strangers. And that seldom works out well.
In the running? South America, China, Yellowstone.
I'd also love to spend an elongated amount of time back in England, exploring parts of my homeland that I never got round to visiting. I'm currently watching Coast, the BBC show that treks around the edges of the UK, highlighting all of the weird and wonderful geography, sea-life and events of Britain's coastline. It's an excellent show blighted by presenters who speak with an over-excitable tone, especially the short tongued historian who cannot pronounce his 'r's, 'v's or 'w's.