To Cornwall for a week’s holiday living in a 15th century manor house. No trains, no daily commuting and only the sound of birdsong in the evenings when the visitors departed. Ah well, I return to work tomorrow for a final week on the Piccadilly before the office moves to Waterloo and whole new era begins for this blog. What a contrast! Bowling along the empty lanes of the Tamar valley compared to a crowded and slow moving tube train. Mind you, the three mile tail-back on the Stonehenge section of the A303 was uncannily reminiscent of a queue of trains stuck outside Acton Town. Both are exercises in futility.