An Ightam of note

Or as it is known in the National Trust, Ightam Mote. Amazing little property dating from the 14th Century, lost in a twisting series of bends and turns in the Kent hills, totally enchanting and definitely bigger on the inside as the good Doctor would say. One room leads to another, or off another, or behind a panel, or up a hidden staircase ... Not had this much fun exploring an old house since that time I met a lion in the snow after getting shut in a cupboard as a kid.

As for the rest:

A bit of a lazy start, including TSM having a two hour phone call with the relatives in Australia. Then after Ightam Mote we went to see the Aged P. who was in very good form, quite lucid and rolled her eyes when the pop-up church took over the care home lounge for the weekly Sunday service; she tottered out into the lobby as fast an old communist with no time for god and a second hand zimmer frame could move.

Bangers and mash for supper. I was very pleased with my gigantic home made Yorkshire pud. Through the greasy oven window it looked like something out of a Quatermass film, rising and bubbling as if preparing to bust out of the cooker and take over Surrey. 

Good day. Sunny day.