On a beach, Okinawa. End of February, yet the tropical sun shines, and warms my toes as they dip into the sea. In the near distance, water breaks over a reef, and, surprisingly, a tennis ball washes up at my reef. Around the cove, the unprotected waters of the Pacific, where a different sea rages. I throw the ball into the inferno, turn my back and walk through the palm trees, past the vending machines selling everything from pr0nography to sacks of rice, to the hotel.
My idea of paradise, it turns out, is paradise. A paradise filled with WWII battlegrounds and shamefully devoid of anybody I actually know or care about, but close enough.
Where - apart from the bottom of a glass - is your paradise?
Tell me! NOW!
Today is the 28th August, the last Bank Holiday of the year. This means that we are now, officially, on the downhill run to Christmas, and that we are on the lookout for St Ebeneezer's Day.
St Ebeneezer's Day: A moveable feast, being the first day that Christmas displays appear in shops and public houses. Traditionally, St Ebeneezer's Tide occurs one week earlier each year.
A short summer and the unfortunate fire-bombing of the London Santa College meant that St Ebeneezer's Day fell on 1st August last year. Pass your Christmas humbug to the usual address.
Wyldwoods claims July 29th.
Update and guilty as charged: A shouty TV commercial for Vanish Carpet Mousse that has just assaulted my eyes and ears: "It's Christmas! Spruce up your carpets!"
No. No it's not. It's August Bank Holiday, you bunch of dreadful twats.