I’ve been in Somerset for the last couple of days. I was visiting Ems, an old school friend who moved to Alaska a few years back but had come home for a couple of weeks. C and I hired a car and drove down on Thursday for a few days of chin wagging and catching up, and most importantly, to meet Ems’ first born, Toby.

Ems, C, SJ and I have known each other for over 16 years, and Toby’s birth was monumental in all of our lives, so that might explain my bias over him. He is a beautiful baby, full of charm and affection, and at four and a half months, he already has a personality.

I could drone on about Toby, I find babies and kids so fascinating and could watch them for hours but I really need to avoid this. My biological clock is ticking rather loudly of late (obviously a man-repellent trait when sans homme), so I have muffled it with two and a half packets of cotton wool, a trumpet muffler and a terylene dressing gown..

Despite fighting over Toby cuddles, us adults did manage to spend some qwalidee time catching up on the new stuff and reminiscing on the old. There’s something so good about time spent with your oldest friends. And of course we sampled the alcohol in the local pub.

The walk home from the pub included hanging around on the dark village streets looking up at the star-peppered sky and hoping for a few shooting stars. In the country the stars shine so much more brilliantly than here in the city so staring up at the night sky is so much more of an event and just so awesome.

And there’s something about the sea that calls to me silently, always beckoning. Strange considering I come from a landlocked kingdom but something about it just compels me. Hey, maybe some day I’ll be able to fulfil my dream of having a little country cottage by the sea so that I have somewhere to escape to when this beloved city gets a little too much. Guess I’d better dust off my piggy bank and start saving those pennies then.

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