Wednesday, Thursday and Friday are covered in such detail on Liz's blog that there is really nothing more to say, which leaves me with three choices
a) Say nothing. (Don't be daft - this is Lissa who never says nothing)
b) Repeat what Liz has written (but I don't want to be boring)
c) Lie (Against my principles, but the option I have selected on this occasion)
For the past few days I have been staying with a moody, grumpy, taciturn couple whose rambling house is filthy and untidy. The food is highly elaborate and takes my host hours to prepare, but almost inedible, and they have forced large greasy cooked breakfasts down me every day. We have been nowhere and done nothing. Indeed, the only relief to my boredom has been long, rainsoaked walks in their extensive grounds.
No, it doesn't work, does it? Very heavy handed.
Let's go to option d. Be Original
I have explained to my friends before that I am in fact a weather god. I know that rain in Wales, the Lake District, Scotland (including the west coast) is something that never happens or so rarely that it can be discounted as a single half-day blip in an otherwise bright and sunny week. (By the way, I have never encountered a midge in Scotland either.)
This stay in Surrey has been no exception to my usual holiday weather despite the downpours promised us by the BBC. There have been a few showers, but none prolonged and almost all overnight or while we have been driving; otherwise sunshine all the way.
Lack of rain is just as well because I have a Mary Quant raincape; this is a venerable item (if hardly used) which I have had since my late teens/early twenties. It is large and very vividly coloured in patches of yellow, turquoise, green, red and black. As well as being an excellent raincape, it also does duty as a groundsheet for picnics and in an emergency could serve as a two man tent. It would also advertise our presence to the rescue helicopter if we were lost on some open hillside or blasted heath or stuck on a sandbank, which is more than some sub-fusc green job would do.
Liz (among others including my sister) has an unreasonable dislike of this excellent garment and on the rare occasions I have needed to wear it strides ahead pretending that she is not with me. This, however, did not stop her sitting on it when I placed it over a damp bench at Osterley so that we might watch the birds on the lake without the danger of displaying embarrassing damp patches on our bottoms once we stood up. Moreover her own raincoat, while admittedly in a tasteful shade of deep red, has on its back a large logo proclaiming her to be a Hash House Harrier.
I am now going to have to stop writing as Sid, the cat, has come upstairs to assist me and is sitting on a heap of papers between me and the screen, while taking occasional dabs at the keyboard. Why don't I move her? Well, that would be rude as she is, after all, one of my hosts who have all three contributed to a lovely week.
Sunday
On Saturday afternoon Jenny arrived from Lancashire after an horrendous couple of hours on the M25 (similar to our experience on Friday evening) so we sat around talking, ate dinner (still talking), watched the results of "How do you solve a problem like Maria?", talked some more and went to bed.
We got up early today with a view to making an early start on our westward navigation of the M25. I went to the early service at All Saints, Kenley, while the others set off for a family christening in Reading. Interestingly, this church was designed (1870/1) by James Fowler who was the diocesan architect for Lincoln and whose hand can be seen in the Victorian restoration of most of the churches in our group of parishes - Swallow in particular.
After church I set off for lunch with Pam in Aylsbury - the roads were delightfully clear and I was there before 11 o'clock. (The others were similarly early in Reading.) There followed congratulations to Emma on her excellent A levels 
(A, A, A, B, ) conversation, food, and a great many wedding photographs. (Shelagh and David, and Neil and Heidi, plus the Diamond Wedding - see earlier blogs)
I left at 5.00 intending to join the M1 at Milton Keynes and thence the A46 at Leicester, but, on hearing of delays on the M1, re-directed myself to Sandy and the A1 and on to the A46 at Newark. There were no delays and I was home in good time.
