Plymouth

Down the A38, over the still impressive Tamar Bridge, skirt the bizarrely named suburbs of Eggbuckland and Pennycomequick and into the big city. I've taken the girls to see Shrek IV in 3D. I ask for a small popcorn and receive a bucketfull. A large one is presumably the size of a dustbin. The film is OK, very funny in parts (particularly the bloated Puss) but they're running out of ideas and it's no surprise that this is to be the last in the series. The girls just about 'got' the timewarp plot.

I like Plymouth. My dad was a tutor for two or three years at the Royal Naval College in Manadon in the early 70s. We used to drive down from Chichester every two weeks or so to visit, staying in a funny old chalet somewhere in its grounds. It was here, as a 10-year-old, that I played golf for the first and last time, whacking Paddy in the mouth with a 4-iron. When not trying to kill my brother, we'd go walking on Dartmoor or boating with friends in Cornwall. Happy days.