The call of the sea

When the salty sea air is making the metaphorical journey down from the recesses of memory into the less metaphorical recesses of ones nasal cavity it can mean only one thing. Yes, it needs no call-ID feature, no picture-message-ringtone, no door peephole... the call of the sea can be coming only from that epitome of sun, sea, students and socks and sandals that is... Aberystwyth!

Sweet home Aberystwyth, where the skies are so grey,
Sweet home Aberystwyth, I'm a-comin' home today!

Which reminds me: I'd better be a-packin' up my bags.