Paul, Flossie and I went to Bristol for the weekend to stay with my old friends Gail and Mark and their wrecking crew three boys. It was great to see them, and we all had a very long walk (especially long as Matthew the toddler was walking for some of it) from Snuff Mills to Oldbury Estate and back again, in the rain. Unfortunately, the weather was far too grim to venture into the city centre, as planned, although we did manage to get as far as Fishponds to see my mate Phil's band (The Johnsons) play at The Farriers. And very good they were too.

Gail and Mark were over-generous, as usual, and treated us to a particularly fine take away curry (happily, my favourite - chicken makhani - was on the menu!) on Saturday night and a fine roast dinner on Sunday. Not to mention the far too many birthday presents they heaped upon me on arrival.

All in all it went very well; Paul liked Gail and Mark and coped pretty well with being bombarded by three unfamiliar and extremely energetic young children, Flossie only bared her teeth twice, despite the almost constant mauling, and despite all the mayhem Gail and I found time to catch up and have a good old gossip.

The trouble with going back to Bristol is I always feel a bit homesick afterwards. After all, it's my home town, I have more friends there than anywhere else (I've none up here to speak of) and it's completely familiar territory.

So today seems all a bit of an anti-climax.

Nevertheless, it's good to be home again.

Hey ho.