Strawberries & cream

When I was a child we'd go on holiday to Devon, Westward Ho! (Trivia answer - the only placename in the UK with an exclamation mark). Five children, mum and dad, on the train, dad got free tickets because he worked for the railways. Walking along the train to find a carriage that doesn't have a red triangle so that dad could spark up a Senior Service. Down to Exeter and then to Barnstable and another train to Bideford. From there it was a bus and, on a good day, only one of us was travel-sick. Holidays in a caravan in Westward Ho! were about walks to Appledore and time on the beach and the pebble shop near the slipway and, a special treat, clotted cream. I still think about mum and dad when I buy strawberries and cream because I can buy them when I want - I now know that they couldn't; it was a treat because they'd spent as much as they had to get us that holiday. I can't eat strawberries and cream without thinking about Devon and the caravans and my siblings and what mum and dad did to make it happen. This was my breakfast.

Today was a bit lumpy but the good side was that I wasn't working for the university, I was working for a friend. Good night sweet prince: And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest!