A GARDEN IS A LOVESOME THING, GOD WOT

Words from a long time ago, written by Thomas Edward Brown. 

A week ago, I'd made plans to buy a ticket and drive down to Goodwood in Sussex for this weekend's "Festival of Speed". As these things go, it's probably the best event of its type in the World. But, what with one thing and another, I didn't get round to it.

Over the last couple of days, we've had pretty good weather up here in Shropshire, and my thoughts have randomly wandered off on the "Wish I was there" track. For anyone keen on motor cars, Goodwood in the warm weather is a real magnet. But this morning I got up, took our dog Milly out for a walk, and then sat on the deck eating my breakfast in a very leisurely way. Orange Juice, Scrambled Eggs and Coffee. There was not a breath of wind, the sun was warm, with not a single cloud in the sky and I looked out onto the garden pictured below - 

I have to say that, by the end of the second cup of coffee, the idea of getting up at 4am, driving 200 miles down to Sussex and fighting my way around somewhere even as nice as Goodwood with about 200,000 other people had lost a fair amount of its allure. I ended up pottering around all morning, and then spent the afternoon at the Grandchildrens' local School fete with all of the family, wanging wellies, eating waffles and sitting on the grass in the sunshine doing very little, just soaking up a lovely couple of hours. 

Back home onto the deck, nothing much changed. I ended up sitting, no actually it was lounging, under the gazebo reading a book with a glass of wine. All of which was followed by an alfresco meal in the warm evening sunshine of Plaice, Seared Scallops, Roast Tomatoes, Cauliflower Cheese and some crisp Asparagus. Oh, and another glass of wine. The sun had by now moved around, lighting the garden up from a different direction. It was still warm, with no wind and the sky was a brilliant blue. 

I thought that if I'd shot off to Goodwood this morning, I'd now probably be sitting in a traffic jam on the M25, wishing I was at home doing exactly what I was actually doing. Perhaps it's a sign of getting old, but I can't think of a much better way to have spent a Sunday than the way I'd ended up spending it. Sometimes the simple things are the best. 

Goodwood will have to wait until next year.