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OK I admit it. I think Justin Timberlake is a fox. Forget Jackson or Prince ever existed. Justin is the new King of Pop.


Holiday Report

We were away on holiday in Cornwall last week. I didn't tell you before we left, as I have a fear that burglers scan blogs, spot where people live from clues -- intentional or otherwise -- written in those blogs, and then raid the empty homes whilst the bloggers are away.

A little paranoid perhaps, but I have images of Ruffles dressed in blue stripey shirt and black eye mask, holding a swag bag, circling our house like a vulture. The vision is completed with Simon -- in a Motty sheepskin coat -- lurking in the shadows ready to fence the goods.

In actuality the house was untouched.

Here's the holiday summary. Apologies if it's a bit "postcardy" or sounds like Kirk's Log:

Friday 13th

We travelled down to Bath in the afternoon. Glorious sunshine greets us -- we are clearly blessed by Minera, the Roman sun goddess. Bath is a beautiful city, the Regency stonework reflecting the light and providing a dignified and graceful atmosphere. We took a cheesy open-top bus tour of the city, seeing all the tourist sites: The Royal Cresent, the Abbey, Jane Austen's house, Charles Dickens' house, and the rows and rows of classic Georgian properties -- currently being filmed for the Hollywood version of Vanity Fair. I didn't spy that hot blonde american chick Alicia Sliverstone though.

We toured the ancient Roman baths and spa by foot. Rich in history and well worth a visit. The warm waters still bubble up from the sacred spring, and although you can partake of a cup for 50p, we were advised by our tour bus guide not to taste it: It's like rusty bath water.

Our hotel was average.

We were treated to a performance by the worlds worst street "entertainer": after irritating a whole square full of people for an hour, not one single person threw a penny in his hat. He was reduced to begging people to give him some money. That always works: irritated people for an hour with shit music and humourless "comedy" and then -- once they are ready to kill you -- ask them for money.


Saturday a.m.

Sunshine. A trip to Cheddar Gorge and its caves. I wouldn't bother again: it's full of gift shops selling tat. The smaller of the cave networks was apparently Tolkein's inspiration for Helms Deep. In their wisdom, the local people have therefore turned this cave into a REALLY BAD Lord of the Rings-esque walk-through for kids, complete with red-eyed goblins, wraiths and demon lord. Incredibly naff and -- this is the best bit -- frightening for their target market. The little boys who were in front of us were TERRIFIED by it and wanted to leave.


Saturday p.m.

Up to Bristol, we stayed overnight at the contemporary Hotel du Vin. Very swish and comfortable apart from the lack of air-con: it was one of the hottest evenings of the year and it felt like it in our room. We had to make do with an open window, a fan, and sweaty pants.

Wandered around the redeveloped dock area of the city and had a pint by the river. Lots of trendy young people.


Sunday

Travelled down to Cornwall in sunshine. As far as Lands End. [For my american readers, grab a map of the UK -- its the far SW tip of the country. Hence Lands End]. We were accommodated in Sally's cottage near St Just. The cottage was damp, due to its location next to its own stream, but ideally located for exploring from, and only a short walk from the coast. Most importantly, it was quiet and out of the way, exactly what we wanted for our week of "getting away from things".


Monday

We were woken up at 5.30 a.m. by someone knocking at the front door. Twice. By the time I'd got downstairs they'd disappeared. Freaky. We reckoned it was either an early bird from the Youth Hostel up the road messing about or a ghost.

With hindsight I think it might have been an Action Cow.

Another day of sunshine and a visit to St Michael's Mount at Penzance. When the tide is out you can walk across the sands to the Mount and its harbour, when the tide is high, it is surrounded by the sea. We walked across and took a boat ride around the island later. A steep climb to the fortifications and house at the top rewarded us with a magnificent 360 view of the area and a glimpse of the Giant's Heart.

Legend has it that a giant built the Mount and protected it from harm. But he got a bit too big for his already sizeable boots, so the locals sent a clever kid to kill him. The boy dug a pit, then teased the giant, who lumbered into it and was killed. The giant's heart dried as hard as stone in the sun, and was incorporated into the stone pathway that leads to the top of the Mount.

I don't know what happened to the kid.


Part 2 tomorrow, including an explanation of what an Action Cow is.
[Moooo!]