I Blame Bill Bryson

I am currently suffering from the scientific phenonomon known as itchy feet. Which seems ridiculous, given that I've only been back a la France for a week, but it's freezing here and we all have exams and I'm bored. Last term I was plagued by a desire to go back to Durham and see everybody, this term apparently I just want to go somewhere new.

So one of my major revision avoidance techniques, aside from eating and sending incredibly long- winded facebook messages to everybody I've ever met, is to play a little game known as 'What I'm going to do when my loan comes in'. Never mind that I'm currently so overdrawn that looking at my statements actually makes me laugh, in a vaguely hysterical manner. No, I have decided that the mainetenance grant exists not for me to eke out a living over the next few months, but so that I can jet off and have some exotic adventures (and buy a leather miniskirt from Zara, of course).

I have - just - managed to reign in the crazy and stop short of seriously considering transatlantic flights. So instead I have turned my attention to Europe. And the idea of visiting it's major cities all by my lonesome holds a great deal of appeal for me, thanks to one Mr Bill Bryson. Because in addition to writing the only science book I ever voluntarily read, the esteemed Chancellor of Durham University is the author of 'Neither Here Nor There', a guide to Europe which I devoured on a recent Newcastle - Paris flight.

I have told myself repeatedly that setting off to pastures unknown with only a mountain of debt and a pop travel guide which is twenty years out of date for company is a stupid and expensive idea. It would appear that I am not listening. Having discovered, to my disappointment, that flights from Paris to Corsica only run in summertime (which, you know; sensible. I can't imagine there being a great deal of demand otherwise. What the hell is even on Corsica, anyway? Didn't Napoleon die there or something? Wasn't he killed by his wallpaper? I think I saw that on How 2 once. Anyway..), and that flights to Casablanca cost a bomb, I began whittling down the list of contenders.

Marrakech I rejected because everybody goes there. It's like that token 'exotic' place people choose to prove that they don't only want t0 see the Costa Del Sol, mainly selected for it's reassuring proximity to the homeland of said Costa. In fact, the only place more people my age like to tell you that they're going to visit is Australia. Seriously, if you want to grab my attention do not brag about adventures down under. Walk up to me and say 'I am not, nor do I have any intention of, going to Australia for the foreseeable future'. What does that country have, despite soul destroying heat and an infathomable passion for sporting activities? (Aside from Neighbours, obviously) Even Hugh Jackman has moved to LA.

I was extremely upset to find that flights from Paris to Austria simply do not exist. Dreams of cycling around in floral curtains singing 'Doe, a deer' were shattered, unless I'm willing to pay an arm and a leg to spend three days on a coach. Krakow was cheap, but I get the impression that people basically go there to get drunk on cheap wodka, so going alone seemed a bit sad. Naples was just too pricey. Pity - Bryson loved Sorrento.

So our current frontrunners are Venice and Tangiers. Lord knows what I'll actually do if I go to either. I don't even own a camera. We'll see what happens come the 19th..