A few days ago I was sitting down to some tea and cake in Saltram House near Plymouth, traditionally where the family holiday begins (or at least Minime’s Annual Ice Cream Scam begins…), when the Mem’s mobile rings. It’s a text from my doctor with the results of my annual dicky ticker test, which I had taken the day before. To cut a long story short, I was gleefully informed that I was clinically dead and must eat more bananas. That put a shot across the bow and spoiled the atmos somewhat, as the Mem made it clear my usual holiday habits of eating pasties and cream teas until my stent begged for mercy would end when I finished my slice of cake.
Anyway, regardless of that, I was delighted to find that Lidl in St Austell had a good supply of fresh fruit and by keeping to my new diet I was allowed a few treats. I also had a break from the internet as I couldn’t link the iPad to the Mem’s phone so resorted to finishing Ian Knight’s excellent Zulu Rising, Corelli Barnett’s equally excellent biography of Marlborough (our greatest general and I will fight you for it) and two James Holland tomes: Big Week and Brothers in Arms, both from Emma’s wonderful New Chapter bookshop in Mevagissey. I also found a Ladybird book on Oliver Cromwell, so my Cornish ECW thing is still going strong.
Back to reality tomorrow, enduring the day job (I was planning to be retired by now) and dealing with my increasingly batty mother, who has taken to swearing like a navvy and giving nursing staff Harvey Smiths. So here are some relaxing holiday snaps to show life isn’t all bad. Yes, they are more arty sunsets.














