Somnambulism

I can't possibly go on my big walk as I can't find my pac a mac. It's red and I've never ever been able to fit it back into its little bag from the day I first took it out. I don't think I've ever actually worn it though I do remember taking it round London on the Capital Ring walks, so it's had lots of exercise.

I am tired; not because I've walked anywhere further than the nearest tree with the dog but because I dream all night long about my magnificent walk. I have walked from dusk til dawn and it's exhausting.

I spent the evening trying to work out hotels on the route and have opted for the more beautiful ones - there isn't always a choice unless you are prepared to go far off the map. Anyway, I always feel that a swimming pool is a beneficial feature to a hotel's repertoire whether I wish to splosh in it or not. Room service is also pretty essential as I will probably smell and want to eat my dinner alone. Well, that is to say, I will have a lovely bath, put on the fluffy towelling robe they provide and eat my dinner in bed watching crappy telly. Just like home ... with Mr Smith, the flunky, serving me my meal - dream on.