Travelling is strange at times. One minute I can be sipping coffee in the dawn sun at home in chemical suburb Billingham. In an hour I can be climbing over mine spoil heaps in Nenthead with rabbits scampering around and grouse flying overhead. Give me another couple of hours and I can be back in the city muggy-heat of Edinburgh with the smell and sounds of the festival on the air.
If you had a good jetpack you could have visited an Icelandic hot spring and been back in Edinburgh for supper.
Joe - August 20th, 2004 @ 11:32 pm