Unexpected holidays are wonderful. I went on one this morning. I was walking along on my morningly morning walk and found myself suddenly in Paris, walking along the shaded streets with a view of the Eiffel Tower. A lovely blue in the morning light. As I sauntered along enjoying the sights and smells of Paris, I found I had moved across the channel and was now in London. Oh, look, the bridge. How marvellous. And the underground. Mind the Gap.
I remember the London underground. I experienced it in the company of my sister-in-law's aunts and two wildly entertaining eleven year old twin cousins. We were on our way to see the Queen: which we duly did. She didn't see us though. Poor her. We were having a hoot, but don't think she was. After London I boarded a large dragon fly, one of the hundreds of big blue ones who have launched in the last twenty-four hours to eat the mosquitoes, and ended up in New York. It's as close to the Statue of Liberty as I have been in may years. I arrived home refreshed from my holiday.
As one should.
