BLACKBIRD SINGING IN THE DEAD OF NIGHT Holiday season is upon us to be followed by the inevitable holiday blues. (Not the Love Don’t Live Here Any More type more your Working on a Chain Gang variety.) If you have just spent an alfresco fortnight sunning yourself on some idyllic vacation it’s tough facing your first day back at work.

If it happens to be a dull, cold, drizzly British day you may feel an overwhelming urge to run back to the sun.

It’s a very common feeling when you return from a wonderful holiday and the compulsion to escape can be irresistible.

Some families plan for years to do just that, sustaining themselves with holiday photos until they can make a permanent move to the land-of-their-dreams.

Others just do it and worry about the consequences later.

There are so many Brits longing to relocate to sunnier climes I’m surprised there are any of us left in the UK.

Every time I turn on the TV some pasty-faced couple are extolling the virtues of life on the Algarve or a move to Florida.

Take my advice: Don’t do it. Visit as many times as you can afford, relax on every beach, dine in every restaurant... fill your boots but do not sell up and move permanently.

I know because I did it and like so many others I came home.

For years I dreamed of living in Miami, a truly exotic city.

It has great weather, great beaches, great restaurants and I loved it and still do but I now have a better perspective.

Nothing can sustain that flush of excitement forever and as I grew acclimated to Miami I began to miss the people and culture I left behind.

Look at the photo above, it’s just a typical English, scene nothing special... but when you are 6,000 miles away it’s Nirvana.

You may give the song of the blackbird little attention in your back garden but it will bring tears to your eyes when you are on the other side of the world.

Even Aunty Freda will look better from that distance.

So don’t suffer the post holiday blues. If you have found your magical place keep it that way.

Don’t up sticks and ruin it.

Go there whenever you can. Meanwhile… listen to those blackbirds (and Aunty Freda).

NEW TOILET PROJECT IS NO HS2 I LIKE Wilmslow Town Council.

They seem a decent bunch of individuals genuinely trying to do their best for the town. It’s the way most politicians start their journey.

Sadly, very few end it that way.

I like that WTC don’t adopt the self-aggrandising vocabulary of Cheshire East where no one word will do when 10 are available and officers have titles far too long to fit on an office door.

Wilmslow councillors are working hard with a relatively small budget, directly against the tide of profligacy adopted by most public bodies and like puppies who have yet to discover the world their naivety is an endearing weakness.

The long-awaited Carrs toilet block, estimated to cost Wilmslow Town Council £108,000 which is an awful lot of money for two loos, could be their largest ever contract.

Okay it’s not the Euro Tunnel or HS2 but it is a project that needs managing.

The news that the opening is likely to be delayed makes me a little anxious.

You may or may not be familiar with a £20,000 digital sign that Congleton Council contracted to have built in the town centre.

Their naivety resulted in them paying up front for a sign that after a multitude of delays was never delivered.

Just saying...

(Please note: no toilet related puns were used in the construction of this article) FANCY WORKING IN A ‘BIJOU’ OFFICE?

Driving around town recently I saw a sign offering a ‘bijou office’ for rent.

The ‘office’ in question was about the same size as our garden shed and I can’t imagine anyone wanting to work in that.

‘Bijou’ is a fashionable word currently used to make cheap things expensive.

Clearly ‘shed for rent’ doesn’t have the same cache as ‘bijou office’.

If you have the need to travel, never stay at a ‘bijou’ hotel before checking out the size of your room as you may find feline swinging beyond its capacity.

‘Drizzle’ is another descriptive word widely used by restaurants to add value.

No one would pay extra for a salad simply for a spoonful of dressing unless, of course, said dressing had been ‘drizzled’ in which case money is no object.

Should you be holding a gathering of any kind on no account should you call it a party or you will be footing the entire bill. The word you want is ‘event’.

Sneak that little blighter on to the invite and you can charge whatever you want. People will pay good money to attend to an ‘event’, throw in an ‘official photographer’ and you’re into double figures.

It’s all smoke and (antique) mirrors intended to impress when the reality is somewhat lacking in substance.

Why do you think Cheshire East is so fond of talking about ‘best practice’, ‘stakeholders’ and ‘silos’?

I rest my case.