Summertime in England

Synonymous with Glastonbury, Wimbledon, Royal Ascot - and rain. Well, showers, so at least we did get to enjoy, in between, the rolling fields of wheat and barley in the Cotswolds, the poppies along the verges, and the lovely honey stone villages that are looking so neat and pretty with flowers in tubs and baskets and the grass so fine and tidy.

Lots of names from the past - Cold Slad, Pamington, The Slaughters, Bourton-on-the-Water, Broadway - and a long detour so the Firstborn could take a photo of the Wyre Piddle sign. Then a bit of rain, and we took shelter in the classy shops of Cheltenham Spa, where the assistants are effortlessly polite and the customers ditto. I'm feeling a bit scruffy here, to be honest - I always used to dress up to come to Cheltenham, whereas Gloucester was all jeans and muddy gumboots.

Non-appearance by the daughters at the rendezvous under the Regent Arcade fish-clock - instead an urgent text: "NEED MORE TIME!" - I'm glad Chelters is fulfilling our promise.