Break’s over. Back on my head.


What was that? It’s been raining in July? Here?

That explains the knee-high grass.

We returned last night from our holiday in over-heated Southwest England, and boy, was it needed.

For two weeks, I did NOT awaken each morning and begin throwing metaphorical punches at the second-raters — although Jeff tossed a few haymakers in the interim.

For two weeks, I did NOT so much as touch an electronic device or phone (mobile or otherwise). I’d forgotten how enriching life can be while untethered, and I’m glad the missus forced me to comply. Consider it a future trend.

For two weeks, I did NOT think about work … well, not too much.

Rather, there was plenty of cask-conditioned real ale and traditional English culinary delights; strolls on the Dartmoor and a coastal ferry to Cornwall; celebrations as Andy Murray won Wimbledon and Plymouth Argyle’s ongoing efforts to move up the league table; and quite a lot more.

Now, as oft times before, the countdown begins. Whither the afterglow? How long until my excellent post-jaunt intentions dissolve in the eternal, primordial, under-achieving New Albany muck?

Thanks to Jeff, Sandra, Graham and the NABC crew for making this possible.