All the best intentions…

The garden at Hidcote - that curvy pathway. Picture Country Living.

Ah where did the time fly, we always say … and methinks it is an age thing but there I was writing about going to Lake Como in May and now we are in August. PS did survive the solo travel and about to do it again.

Failing on every level to be the consistent contributor to the world, and in particular the thoughts on how being in my sixties is not quite what I imagined. But I promise I shall try to do better.

Has been one of those … in the blink of an eye summers. As my daughter said this morning, at least we can stop pretending it is summer and just get on with the business of Autumn. Deceptive season she is - I look out of the window at the sunny day and no sooner am I out of the door, the artic wind whips the flimsy dress and I am back for a change into black.

Then I cannot complain. The few days of withering heat blaizing on this mud island, bestowed a withering brown to our fine little lawns. The tube is stuffier than the saddest sausage and wet armpits holding onto yellow straps have never been my dream to marry. The complaining, first about the heat and now the lack of summer drums relentlessly on the city streets.

And much has happened in my little world … time to start afresh and tell you a little about myself and I promise I will be better at this because its important and such a privilege to be living in London, doing a job I love as a tour guide, researcher and writer and sharing the up’s and down’s of being my age in two countries, with two passports and an undetermined future.