One of the things I love about waking up away from home are the different sounds you hear. Saturday's dawn brought a light rain which meant it stayed cool, affording a deliciously lazy lie-in. In Ghana the rain is announced by a strong wind, clattering the corrugated iron awnings over the windows. Once the rain has fallen away, the soundscape is taken over by the birds. The burr of little wings as they hover at the window picking off the insects which had taken shelter. The whoops, whistles, trills and bursts of song from bushes and trees. You hear the scuffle and squawk of chickens, stamping of goats, the occasional low growl of dogs at each other or passers-by in the distance. Then the sounds of daily human life steadily increase - the incessant rhythm and scrape of sweeping, punctuated by the ding of a bicycle bell, and the rumble and hum of passing motorbikes.

This morning I decided to join them! A quick jog up to Junction View, looping round the back of the houses and home to shower before settling down to work. But stopping and listening to the world outside as I wake up here in Lawra brought this to mind:

"We need to travel. If we don't offer ourselves to the unknown, our senses dull. Our world becomes small and we lose our sense of wonder. Our eyes don't lift to the horizon; our ears don't hear the sounds around us. The edge is off our experience, and we pass our days in a routine that is both comfortable and limiting. We wake up one day and find that we have lost our dreams in order to protect our days." Kent Nerburn