Woke under a blanket of mist. Downstairs, through our kitchen window, I noticed a bejewelled cobweb connecting ivy with cotoneaster. The clever arachnid had embroidered a tiny oblong for every year of my life. Heinz varieties. Upstairs, on our crumpled bed, the guidebooks that Shirley bought for me and a map... of Sri Lanka. Seems that I am destined to travel there where once my father panned for semi-precious stones in a mountain stream and rode from the jungle on an elephant that wasn't grey. More research required and a ticket for an aeroplane.