That was the last day of the trip. As I write, the train home is making its way out of a rain-sodden Plymouth on its way to a rain-sodden London Well at least the speed of the train is no longer a surprise. I’ve got used to that now. And, slowly but surely all the…

You know, once I’d got back from Truro I noticed I was becoming more taken by the monumental sweep of Plymouth’s city centre. But not enough to move hotels and stay in the middle of it. Give it a day or so and I’ll think I’d start seeing the dreary monotony in it. But it…

Plymouth lies on the Devon side of the Tamar as it slides out into the Sound. On the other side lies Cornwall. There’s something strangely magical about getting on a train here and crossing Brunel’s famous bridge over to the Celtic mysteries of Cornwall, England-but-not-quite, even if Cornish is not as prevalent here as Welsh…

Well the train carried on and I got used to the speed in the end. Which was fortunate because it was a three-hour journey down to Devon. Travelling at home this summer presents a double whammy. Millions of Brits who would normally have gone abroad can’t this year and so are taking staycation holidays. And…

At first, the train edged gracefully away from platform 2 at London Paddington, a stately roll-out befitting a grand express service heading out onto an iconic route. Gradually it sped up as it glided through West London, and accelerated a little more, and more, imperceptibly, until you couldn’t avoid the fact this thing was absolutely…

I’ll let you into a secret. I had not been overexcited about doing that last trip to Dominican Republic. For all the tropical beauty and the ancient colonial history, DR had always seemed to be the home of the all-inclusive. The idea of spending virtually your whole holiday trapped inside one great sanitised all-you-can-eat restaurant…