So, I met with two friends from Oxford earlier today. It's always rather fun when you haven't managed to catch up for two years, then manage to spend a very quick, enjoyable four and a half hours chatting over a few pints. We went to Greenwich, which I do think is one of my favourite places in London. Unfortunately it was raining though, so we had to spend longer in the pub than intended. Shame.

We were all going to go to the Lakes earlier this year, but I got held back with work. We're trying again for another trip. We've decided to ditch the Lakes, on account of it being too far North and a bit touristy. Our choices were Exmoor, Dartmoor, the Black Mountains and the Peaks. We couldn't decide. There was an inkling for the Black Mountains, but we were still undecided.

So, a page was ripped from a diary. The four options written on different bits of paper. The four bits of paper put in the middle of the table. The theory being, we each picked one and the destination on the remaining paper was the venue we were going to choose. Fine.

Exmoor remained.

We all looked at each other and, despite being unable to decide earlier, unanimously said: "Nah, lets go to the Black Mountains."

It just goes to show - sometimes, when you are forced into one path, you suddenly realise exactly what it is you want. Logic and prior planning fly out of the window!