Input: 24 hours a day. Output: zero. I realised last week I had forgotten to go on holiday for so long that I was just showing up to my laptop and checking my phone about a million times a day (and night – why do I check my phone at night? I am a wine writer not an on-call doctor) without ever actually Getting Anything Finished or Making a Decision. Antidote: a National Trust cottage in Cornwall where possibly the most blissful thing was the absence of phone signal and wifi. So nice. A couple of writers with whom we shared a big pot of tea at dusk one afternoon after kicking around a muddy estuary overlooked by some spooky woods told us they actually use a special programme that stops them getting online. I thought maybe I had accidentally signed up to the wrong internet package because my server is always going funny but apparently no, it’s an app called Freedom, as in Freedom from distractions such as, for example, playing Scrabble online or looking at shoes. Below some Cornish highlights, including the booze. Smell of burning clutch as we negotiated steep blind corners on narrow, thick-hedged lanes not pictured.