Maybe it's some sort of cosmic karma caused by spending too much time on two wheels. Perhaps the Scenic is sending sub-ether signals saying Take Me, Use Me, Drive Me. 'Cos rather than lots of small journeys, we seem to undertake some monster journeys in the motor, whether to Scotland (444 miles), southern France (800 miles) or Italy (950 miles). So Wales and back in a day? Bring it on, Bronwyn.

Bit of a significant sojourn, this particular one. Eldest is going away, at least for a bit, to big school. She's university challenged. What's that? I can't possibly have a child who's that old? Bless you. 'Tis true, however. And in her attempt to get As Far Away As Possible, she's opted for a point -- Aberystwyth -- at almost exactly the opposite side of the country. In fact, in a different country altogether.

Time for a timely reminder of earlier times:

• aged 7, wants to be left alone
• aged 8, buys Harry Potter, Book 5
• aged 10, her life is a hell hole
• aged 12, is an "excited McFly fan"
• aged 14, plays her first gig
• aged 17, meets Brian Cox

Made it to Aber for 2pm-ish. Got her key, found her shared student house, and lugged in some boxes (note that while one of these crates contained enough food for the first couple of weeks, a lad in the same place was seen with nothing more than a family pack of Iced Gems). As instructed, we didn't hang around and off we drove, minus Eldest, all of us being v. brave. She'll be fine: she's got my Frisbee.