Even though it's pouring down, I have an almost overwhelming urge to escape to the country for a couple of days.
I've not been to "our" cottage in deepest, darkest North Wales for at least a year, and I really miss it today.
I love being there. I think there is something mystical and enchanting about being entirely on your own in the wilds of Wales.
The cottage is really old and really isolated, set back from a single-track road and about 100 yards away from the River Dee.
Beyond the river is a range of purple and green misty mountains that stretch off into the distance, and about a quarter mile downstream are the ruins of one of Owen Glyndwr's watchtowers.
The whole area is just drenched in history and when you're there, you can really tune in to the ghosts and shades of a long-lost time.
Especially just before sunset, when dusk is casting long shadows down the lane and the silence grows intense as the hedgerow birds and the inevitable flock of sheep settle down for the night.
I have a very active imagination and being alone in the cottage as darkness falls can be a bit spooky. Not really scary though. I've always felt welcome there.
There's an excellent old pub about a half mile down the lane set in a tiny village. So if I DO get spooked out I can always drown my sorrows by the pub hearth.
Anyway, writing about it has only increased by desire to be there.
I'm off to pack!