On the brink

Tomorrow is my first festival of the summer. I'm up in Norfolk and heading over there tomorrow. I haven't even finished writing my West country blog entries. People keep asking if my tour's over now but I quash this scandalous talk. No, it's just on a pause, I say, while I take care of a few non-tour related concerns. The truth is that, though I've seen the most wonderful chunk of Britain (and eaten a huge great chunk of food) I'm not done. Not by a long shot. Well I haven't even been to Wales for a start and...what about abroad?? I'm going to sit on this for a while; mull it over and cook up some schemes. I want more of what the Choc Star tour gave me - more great languid voyages of wonder and delight, more new people to meet and countryside to explore.

I look back on the tour (so far) and am bristling with excitement at the distance I've travelled and the sequence of places I've dipped into. Often I got frustrated at not being able to stop longer and would yearn to stay, only to swiftly forget once I hit the road once more. It's addictive this nomadic state. It quells my restlessness. Yet within it is suspended an impulse I have to stay still and go nowhere - to embed myself in a whole new place.

London? London. I eye it with uncertainty. I'm interested in trying it back on again and seeing how it fits. But for now I just pray that the rain pisses off and let's the festivals be - the quagmires and deep, squelchy trenches still cry fresh in my mind. Forecast for the next three days: Heavy Showers...