Hello Falmouth! Well, hello foul mouth
I woke up to a hobo's lullaby of pitter pattering rain drops tippity tapping a rain song of strange rhythms on top of my trailer. Then low and behold, I realized the sun was peeking through. The sun had a fistfight with the clouds and the clouds got roundhoused punched and got a standing eight count only to then topple over on the canvas. They're now getting their cloudy eyes stitched up. The view is amazing down by the water here in Cornwall. I'm walking and thinking and walking some more. Falmouth ya say? Right on man. It's really purty over yonder in this part of England. Traveling is a tonic for my wayward wind of a soul. I always forget just how amazing this planet is and then I'm tapped on the shoulder by some bygone spirit of yesteryear and I'm reminded of the whole ball of wax. When I sleep in my trailer on my cot, I pretend I'm flying first class on British Airways and how happy I'd be to be able to stretch out on a transatlantic flight. So in my head my trailer is the first class lap of luxury. The mind is a powerful tool. I wish I had an owners' manual. It's freezing cold at night but I never knew a sleeping bag could keep me so warm. It goes all the way over my head. Full covered warm luxury. That dude Gregory at Adventure 16 in Solana Beach is a saint for helping me pick it out. I'm not sponsored by them I just believe in praising good service.
Today is a day of wonder and marvel. We've already done radio and now I'll continue my journey. Muchas gracias amigos, Steve