I was thinking of summer and holidays (mine is booked for the third week in May in a cottage in Beddgelert) and I came up with my ideal holiday day.

I start, accompanied by Joe, by taking a ride in a steam train along a scenic, coastal route to a charming little town where I meet Becky and Liz for morning coffee at some old fashioned tea shop called The Copper Kettle something similar. Replete with teacake and chat, we call in at the small but excellent local museum where Derek is working as a volunteer guide and shows us round.

Thence we walk up to the ruined castle where we are met by Isabel, Inge and a picnic. (In an ideal world Issy would be driving a lovely old Morris 1000 traveller - my ideal, not hers). We look round the castle and enjoy the wonderful views along the coast from the cliff top, by which time the picnic is set up and we settle down to a feast of seafood, asparagus, new potatoes, salad and freshly baked bread and very dry white wine, followed by raspberries and/or strawberries and cream. By now the kettle is boiling on the gas ring for tea (coffee for Liz) so we lounge about chatting while Joe clears up. (One can dream!)

After lunch we go in the Morris (and another car) to vist the local stately home which is predominantly late mediaeval with a charming Regency front. We go round in twos - I'm with Liz. In the long gallery there is a particularly good exhibition of costumes and portraits, and the gardens are a delight. I particularly enjoy the herbacious borders and the rose garden which is at its best with very fragrant old roses, and I have an interesting conversation with the owner who is working there. We then have afternoon tea in the tea room.

Joe and I (possibly with some of the others) return on the steam train, where I run into Bill who tells me (in between technical details about the railway) that there is a concert of English Song from Byrd to Britten at the parish church that evening. It proves to be an excellent concert and it even includes an audience singalong section in each half and really imaginative refreshments in the interval.

I return to my delightful holiday cottage, and drink my late night cup of tea on the terrace beside the stream, enjoying the balmy twilight and the scent of honeysuckle and roses.

A bit crowded maybe, but that is my perfect holiday day, spent with many of my favourite people all of whom (except Joe who is only 21) have been my friends for between a quarter and half a century. Since the locations are largely invented with borrowings from sites all over the British Isles and the friends are almost equally spread out (although only in England at present) such a day is impossible, but it would be fun.