Am in Cornwall. Where ought I to be?

Halp! We are trapped in a doll's house and everything is white and cream and fragile and I am too enormous for this place and I keep bleeding!

Ahem. We have come to Cornwall to see family and old friends, and both of us are racked with pains and mobility-impaired, and we are staying in a b-and-b that doesn't fit. In St Austell, which also doesn't fit. And it's raining.

I knew there was a reason I don't live in Cornwall any more.

"Go on the internets," said Karen, "and be entertaining. You haven't posted anything for ages, and all your friends think you're dead."

Am not dead. Am in Cornwall.

Are you entertained yet? Can I stop?