I want to visit North America. This, for me, is quite uncharacteristic - I've never been known for my wanderlust, and am usually more than happy to hang around in Blighty all year long. But suddenly...

Maybe it's just jealousy, an emotion to which I'm certainly not immune. Many of my friends and colleagues have made the journey over the pond this summer, and I do so hate to feel left out. Not that I'm a victim of fashion, or one of society's sheep, but they have all returned with much to say, and I now want to see the continent (or at least a teeny bit thereof) for myself.

Maybe it's the British weather. We reverted to GMT yesterday, and it's getting progressively darker and colder every day. Spring suddenly seems a long way off. Here I am, sat in an old house in West Yorkshire, situated aside a cobbled street, while the TV shows images of California.

Maybe it's that whole Shampoo Planet theory of Europeans being burdened by the weight of the Old World's history, whilst New Worlders are more free to choose their own destiny. I realise this is a double-edged swords; I know some Americans who wish to visit the UK.

Maybe it's the sudden realisation that I can actually afford to travel (assuming I didn't squander my wages on unnecessary techie gadgets). The Virgin/BA price war could benefit me yet...

Whatever the reason, I've suddenly been struck by the desire to visit the other side of the Atlantic, and as with most things, I'll set myself the end of 1999 as a target date by which to have done so.

 

Meanwhile, and within easier travelling distance, why don't you take a visit to my home city?