Fire, de de de deh.

We are now in sunny Suffolk, not only having safely arrived without the use of watering cans, but, having entered a wormhole somewhere on the A1, we lost an hour off the normal journey time and strangest of all, ten miles off the normal distance. We took exactly the same route, usual number of breaks for the loo and petrol and it wasn't that we didn't meet the usual tractors on the moors and heavier traffic on the A roads.

As nobody was about when we got here, we made a big fire and burnt all our unwanted personal paperwork. This was strangely thrilling. Well, I guess not so strangely; burning stuff is very therapeutic. Paper, I mean. In a hearth. All in a very controlled and reasonable manner, you understand.

Highlights included writing cheques out in an old cheque book for ridiculous sums of money then setting them on fire. And my old diaries; I don't know quite why I felt so immensely relieved to see them destroyed. It is not as if I imagined anyone else would be desperate to read them or even that I would be mortified if they did.

Since then we have mostly been sleeping and resting. But it is really nice being here. Visiting my folks house is like being on holiday these days. It is really very quiet out here and we're surrounded by trees and greeniness. There are all sorts of exotic birds about, i.e birds which are not seagulls. The local church bells strike the hour, which is rather lovely and my folks have a shower. Imagine, a shower! And the fire. Well you really can sit for hours watching that. Unfortunately, I am a poor pyromaniac and it keeps dying down whilst under my supervision..