Up North

After a hugely marathon drive, I arrived last, somewhat disheveled but soon was happy on the veranda in the sun with the pink fizz. Lots of lovely banter, a word Gloria apparently hates but she has used it most regularly since announcing this.

Everyone is refusing to play tennis with me except, I think, my mum. I am both going to swim a mile with Clare and teach her to knit, apparently not quite enough to get her to pick up a bloody racket.

Sandi is here too for the record. Also now refusing tennis.