Falling off a bicycle was never more fun than it’s been this weekend.

I’m in Cambridge. I’ve been here for a few days now. It’s supposed to be work-related, but – between you and me – I’ve been skiving off and enjoying the gorgeous scenery, getting into mischief, eating fat, fresh strawberries that leave streaks of juice down my face, and taking time out from the hustle-bustle world.

Where have I been? Riding in the rain with new found friends to quaint pubs, and finding it difficult to stay on my bike riding home. Punting up the river, past old colleges and cathedrals, dragging my fingers in the icy cold blackness. Falling asleep on beautifully manicured university grass, and dreaming about bouncing up and down on a green mattress the size of a house. Reading in my rooms (I was given lovely old rooms in Trinity College) with my feet pressed against the windows. Laughing with the porters who tell me funny stories about past students (Prince Charles being a favourite figure of fun). Going to movies. Being woken by the gentle lull of church bells. Being impressed by Luc Besson (who is also here as part of the Cambridge Film Festival). Being inspired by people who are amazing enough to have the ability to create cinematic beauty. Shopping for shoes in a historic town that sheds shadows of texture (wrought-lace shadows on cobblestones are breathtakingly beautiful). Dipping toes in the river while reading every newspaper I could find and buy. Laughing to myself as little girls pass me for the third time singing the ABCs. Not brushing my hair for three days. Eating raspberries while looking at second hand books in the markets (on the emailed advice of a friend). Trying to talk on my mobile while riding around the town, and falling off my bike – Again. Drinking coffee made by an angel who must have been so worried the world would forget his name, he tattooed it from wrist to elbow in cursive script. Smiling alot.

Why isn’t life always this idyllic?