This morning I get a lovely unexpected invitation to go to The Pig At Combe for chargrilled flat breads and a bottle of cold Chardonnay at the Folly - the beautiful orangerie in the grounds of the main hotel. Four of us share it this evening, sitting under huge umbrellas, surrounded by giant cedars of Lebannon, rolling views, a flourishing walled kitchen garden and the sun still hot and high in the sky.
I can say yes because I'm free this week. Free to say yes without having to arrange cover for myself or to get back at a certain time or squish and squash myself around Robin's routine.
It helps that it is so hot - three baths a day hot - because it's like another country, another time and place so unlike the England I know - a brown grass and steam rising off tarmac England.
This respite is like being in another country - beautiful and foreign but knowing a thunder storm is on its way....
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