I doubt I could listen to one track by the Moody Blues, from that era, now, without turning it off, unless it was to analyse their Mellotronics. My children went to Mesoamerica - I just criticised them for burning paraffin (jet fuel) vainly. If they'd been investigating that island of plastic filth, from a catamaran made of recycled knick-knacks, I would have been more keen. And my mother has said to me 'don't you wish you'd travelled' - I've not been to London for 28 yrs. (The elder did a project on the Manatee and a dissertation on a Blue-tailed parrot).

On the other hand, a journey of fifty miles, from here, takes one into a completely different country, which few get to see. I used to spot the orange-cagouled ones, from a distance, and see their tracks and pick up useful items that they'd misplaced. Sun block, compass, little torch, stuff like that - as an indian would. I see the planes landing - and taking off - from a distance. They really strain to get up in the air sometimes - too full, perhaps. You wouldn't catch me on one!