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In a change to our advertised programme — mainly the Mare a Mare Nord — I decide to walk up to the Lac de Nino, as recommended by the lady running the hotel I’m staying in.

The walk starts in a pine forest a ten-minute taxi ride up hill. The path begins fairly gently but soon consists of large rocks. As I ascend the rocks get smaller and loser. Walking gives way to scrambling and a little climbing. I realise that I’m lucky to be heading upwards as the opposite direction looks to be almost impossible for people as dextrous as me.

Today was a significant tested for me.

First there was the endurance. I set off around eight and arrived after six, with lunch the only significant break — and that was less than an hour. The terrain was steep, with both climbs of over a thousand meters and descent of the same, meaning that it wasn’t just the distance that was battering my feet.

The first day of walking was to take me from Sermano to Corte. I was driven to the start by taxi along the scary, narrow lanes that surround Corte.

It doesn’t take long before things start to go wrong. Crossing a stream I manage to put my whole foot in the water, fortunately only fleetingly and so I am not completely waterlogged.

The plan today is to get to Corte. There are two trains a day, which effectively means that I have to choose between sightseeing in Ajaccio or Corte — with daylight hours fading fairly early there would be no time to do both. Since I’m back in Ajaccio on Friday evening I decide to take the early train.

As I fly over it, I note the vivid blue-green colour of the water as it glistens in the midday sun. This is not the Mediterranean as I approach Corsica but the English Channel shortly after leaving from London City airport. It’s amazing how the sun enhances even the most seemingly mundane scenes.

It’s three hours and a change of plane in Paris before I see Corsica for real. In fact it was cloudy and only visible for the last few minutes of the descent. First impressions: very hilly, mountainous even. The cream houses scattered near the coast are attractive and give the impression of a place that is in the south of France or Tuscany.

On the approach to Wembley there were a gaggle of vendors selling glowing rabbit ears and furry wands. We speculated whether this was where Gwen Stefani bought the wardrobe for her tour. They probably sell the same merchandise for most gigs here, but there are few other artists that I could imagine actually wearing such cheap and cheesy accessories.

Of course she didn’t, at least until about two thirds of the way through the set when she launched herself into the audience, alternately running around and standing in the crowd to sing a verse. At one point she borrowed some rabbit ears from a fan. Very fetching.

I just realised that the story of my Belkin Wi-Fi Phone for Skype lacks any form of closure. But before we get there, let’s start with a quick recap in case you didn’t read the original review or its follow-up.

Last year, after realising that we had spent over £30 in a quarter on line rental but less than 50p on phone calls, we decided to get rid of our land-line and rely only on broadband and VoIP technology. After some thought we went for Skype and a physical handset that connected to our wireless access point. This seemed like a great solution as leaving a computer switched on 24/7 just so we could recieve calls on our SkypeIn number didn’t appeal.

Do you remember where you were when you heard that Diana had died? I do. I woke up on the Sunday and switched on the radio over breakfast. Nothing but slow, miserable songs on Radio 1. And Capital. And Heart. Indeed, every channel I tried — and there are a lot in London. The occasional announcement that “due to recent events it wasn’t appropriate to continue with the usual programming” did little to enhance my understanding of what had happened.

So, apparently, this is how I’d look if I were to appear in the Simpsons. Can I just point out that I do have more hair than this.

To see how inaccurate it is, you can try it with a picture of yourself.

As is necessary when you travel to the US, I hired a car. It’s always tricky to hire a small car in America — only in the US could an SUV fit in a “small car” parking space — but I dismissed all their attempts to get me to upgrade. Maybe it was some form of revenge, but I ended up with a Chrysler P.T. Cruiser. Not terribly small. But actually terrible.