I WANT BRITAIN

As a statement of intent, how about this?

No more foreign travel.

There is not an atom of xenophobia in this. It is just that each time I travel abroad it reminds me how much I love Britain and how much I loathe the hassle of leaving her.

Since 2001, our airports have been places of security stupidity run wild. The queuing is horrendous. There are even premium offers you can take, to join speedier queues. I take them, and am still dissatisfied. The compulsion of some idiot to have me remove my brogues, or my belt or my trousers or something should not be a part of this deal. Especially if he / she is a poor imitation of a full security prison screw, and bears his / her self with all the aplomb of a football fan shouting from a terrace.

Then when I get herded around ritually in order to get on a plane, told off because my bag is too big, I haven't ticked the right box on some online form, or I have the audacity to wish to be seated with my loved ones, I baulk. Then comes a hard sell assault of Pringles and lottery tickets, whilst I am crammed into a pliant stress position, my knees somewhere around my chin. Amazing, isn't it, that I can't take a 300ml bottle of water through security, but I can buy a full glass bottle of scotch or vodka airside or even on the plane? Ah, but the airline / BAA profit from that! A friend of mine, who is a counter terrorism expert, did an article for a national newspaper which identified, if I remember correctly, at least fifty items available either airside or on board an aircraft, which could be turned with little effort into a lethal weapon.

Then when I am abroad, I invariably wish I wasn't. Abroad is too hot, too unfamiliar, too inhabited with reptile life, too unpredictable and stressful for my taste.

It wasn't always - the travel bug has taken me over vast tracts of the earth from Algeria to Zanzibar, and my curiosity for what is going on there is sated. But roughing it is no longer appealing. And luxury travel abroad is often a contradiction in terms.

Britain now has world class cuisine, fine hotels, a customer service culture as good as almost anywhere on the planet, a natural beauty which leaves one speechless with awe, clean beautiful beaches, a temperate and interesting climate which knocks the spots off endless blue days, a warmth that is enough to give you sunburn, good ice cream, and people who politely speak your own language. Oh, and you don't have to fly to get here.

Is it age? Is it unreasonableness? Or is it simply common sense to want to stay.  I do. I want all that Devon and Cornwall and Norfolk and Northumberland can throw at me. I want sand between my toes. I want shockingly cold briny water. I want my boat. I want dressed crab. I want a pint of bitter. I want cheery barmaids or barmen. I want cliffs to marvel at. I want lanes to bicycle down. I want hedges full of birdlife. I want misty dawns, and evenings where I need a Guernsey. I even want trash candyfloss and slot machines.

I want Britain. And this summer, I hope Britain wants me.