Be-Bop joins the tour...

My younger brother, Beppo, is more or less Italian. He's got the name, the shades, the wife-beaters. He has to have his espresso in a little glass in the mornings with a Marlboro Red and he loves a good robust Brunello. He flew in from Bergamo to join me for a few days. Thank God it was balmy because he does miss the English summer and was all rearing to drink in the early June reverie.

An Edward Thomas moment found me as I waited at Charlbury station to meet him. A listless, contented kind of afternoon where I would have been happy to wait for hours at that temperature. What a luxury to be able to enjoy! I had some things to do which meant I had to stay in one place for a couple of days so we went to stay in the magical world of Asthall with Rosie.

There was nothing but sunshine and endless, rolling lawns. The Windrush River cuts through the bottom of her garden and hems the Valley. It is like being in an ethereal basin; an eden of wild perfection. All around the garden are wonderful, sensual sculptures, in residence for the bi-annual On Form exhibition that was about to begin.

We had a lovely time swimming, playing tennis (which I'm pretty out of control at), eating salads from the garden, drinking delicious wine and just sort of pottering about until we had to hit the road and get down to Kent to do a wedding.