Holibobs: Cayman

One very good/very bad thing about hitting my late 20s is that gradually, lots of my favourite people have started to leave London life far behind.

My beloved friend S is happily ensconsed in Amsterdam, which I still think might actually be the world's coolest city. Two more of my friends are thinking about abandoning south London in favour of a spot of travelling in the new year.

And this summer, two of my old friends, former housemates (and most fiercely competitive Risk opponents) decamped to the Cayman Islands for a prolonged spell of Caribbean living.

I can't imagine why they would favour coral reefs and fresh seafood over the Victoria Line and Nando's. Ahem.

This is bad news (on a purely selfish level) because I'll be deprived of their company on future trips back to England. I might even have to find other Nando's companions.

But.

Los Angeles to Cayman really isn't very far at all, in the grand scheme of plane-hopping antics. So in a months' time I'll be jetting off for a few days of sun, sea, stingrays and Scrabble (see what I did there? Alliteration, baby!) in Grand Cayman.

It is entirely possible that I am counting down the days on my calendar in coloured pencil like the big old geek that I am...