the running wave

My journey home from the Cotswolds took an unexpected twist.  Having travelled down on the west side of the country, using the M6, which is what we normally do, I decided to ring the changes and come back up on the east side.  I drove along the M42, which is never a great experience at the best of times, and I had actually congratulated myself on 'so far, so good' by being in the right lane, when suddenly, with split-second timing, I found myself in the wrong lane and heading, irrevocably, for the M6 Toll.  Despair, dismay, and intense irritation as I realised I had to pay another £5.50 toll.  How did that happen?   The M6 Toll road is probably the best £5.50 you can spend in the UK.  It's like going back to the M1 in the 1960s.  When everyone else is having a nose-to-tail nightmare on the M6 and Spaghetti Junction, the rest of us are bowling along the toll road without a care in the world. I didn't feel quite so tickety-boo on this occasion, but it wasn't the end

When a Plantlife e-newsletter plopped into my inbox a couple of weeks ago, I had a trawl through the news items, and there was notice of an evening to be held in the garden at Highgrove, Prince Charles's home in Gloucestershire.  I have always wanted to visit.  It is renowned for being a very beautiful garden.  The evening involved a walk through the grounds, dinner and a talk from Plantlife's botanical specialist, Dr Trevor Dines.  So I thought, why not?  The event started at 6pm, which gave me time to drive down to Tetbury, and then drive home the next day.  So I booked myself a ticket and a hotel room!   Tetbury disappointed me.  I found it to be surprisingly dingy.  And it suffers from the overwhelming effect of traffic, relentlessly trailing through the town centre.  Having lived in Scotland for 20 years I have now become extremely spoilt when it comes to traffic.  I notice that it starts to build up when you reach Lancaster, travelling south on the M6.  By the time you

I've got a bit of catching up to do.  The last three weeks have passed by in a total blur.  Happy arrivals from Australia, mad scramble in a party of ten (5 children, 5 adults and Ryanair) to Palma, Majorca for a long weekend to celebrate my youngest son's wedding to his lovely lady.  And then, in a trice, the longed-for visitors from Melbourne were gone again, and back down under.  How could a fortnight go so quickly?  It's taken me a good week to start to touch the edges of normal life again. The jaunt to Majorca was wonderful.  The wedding was magical.  Ryanair wasn't.  But we got there and back safely, so that's the most important thing.  The constant head-counting of children was a significant feature of the weekend, but we stayed in a great, family hotel in Port de Soller, and with so many family and friends all in one place, a successful weekend was guaranteed. Here are some photos from our wonderful, happy, and memorable Majorcan wedding weekend.   Her