I’m off on a work trip soon overseas for the first time since last August. I’m already waking up in a cold sweat at 5am worrying about it. Boy how I wish I could just stay in my little patch of the West Country and never set foot out of it again….but as long as I’m a corporate whore, I’m going to be doing trips to far-flung places I suppose. I have one thing to be thankful for though, at least these days’ far-flung places are usually without the need for an aeroplane. That’s why this one is giving me so much anguish.

Worry-guts is my middle name and so they’ve always given me the heebeegeebees but when a trip follows so hot on the heels of a holiday and therefore my worrying eats into my holiday, I have to confess to feeling a bit cheesed off about it. So, my last day’s holiday has been marred by anxiety – as I said, awake at the crack of sparrows and now again my stomach is in knots.

So, with a desperate need to buy some clothes that would be suitable for hot climes and an equally pressing need for medication for my latest self-inflicted affliction, we set off to go to the city today to shop.

While I’ve been reporting all of these wonderful, exciting things we’ve been doing with our holiday, I’ve not mentioned that I’ve been topping and tailing each day with back-breaking work in the garden. I’ve dug out another bed in the veggie plot and planted spinach, broccoli (though this is looking decidedly sick tonight after a day of scorching sun) and peas. I’ve also planted all of my tubs and pots with the bedding plants that my folks kindly brought down for me last weekend (thanks both). What I didn’t realise (because it’s not true of our last home in Cornwall) that this area is infested with midges and I clearly have very sweet, juicy flesh. What’s more, the bit of my flesh that was on display to said midges last night as I was digging until 9.00pm, was my face, which is now covered in bites, at least a dozen of them, probably more, on my skin, lips and eyelids. So, I set off to the fashion capital of the world in twenty-four hours time with a face that could be seen from space it’s so red and sore. I look as though I’ve done fifteen rounds with Joe Bugner. If anyone tells you that the ‘bee-stung lips’ look is lovely, tell them they are bonkers and never believe another word they say!!! Let me assure you, this is NOT the look to go for.

I am joking about it but the absolute truth is I am so miserable that I broke down in tears over the poor girl in Lush, the place where I fled for help. A bag-full of skin treatments later, I dashed into Boots for repellents (not that I think there is the slightest chance of anything needing more deterrent from coming near me than the way I look) and anti-histamine creams. I may have to spend the next few days with a paper bag over my head.

In fact though, apart from a dodgy moment in Pizza Express when DM nearly floored me with a mis-judged joke about my face, we’ve had a really nice day out. Shopping was relatively pain-free – we both got what we wanted and were able to escape the city before either of us had become fractious. This statue is in the centre of Exeter, which is a much nicer place than I’d remembered. I loved it, shining and glinting in the sunshine. The words are etched backwards into the opposite face of the metal and reflect the right way round. The face I’ve photographed is extremely apt.

We then meandered across Dartmoor (neither of us had ever ventured onto the moor before, always skirting either North of it on the A30 or South of it on the A38. This time, we chose to cross the moor on its tiny roads. WOW, what a place. When we’ve found our way around Bodmin moor comprehensively, we’ll be starting on Dartmoor next.

We could even see home from the edge of Dartmoor, which wasn’t a surprise as we can see Dartmoor from here but it was nice to get the opposite view across the Tamar valley.

Last year, I was contemplating love. It's being tested today.