We only went and picked the best blummin' week of the year for our break in the Cotswolds. How the heck did that happen?
There was proper, bright yellow sunshine and a vast, cloudless blue sky - EVERY DAY. I've got a sunburnt chest, and I'm proud of it.
"Look," I keep boasting to anyone who'll listen. "Look how tanned I'll be when the lobster-redness wears off." I can't remember the last time I was burnt to a crisp by a British sun - or any other sun for that matter.
I now know that the two essentials for happiness are a lodge by a lake and the sun. Oh and time with the family; although a couple more days and the novelty of that might have worn off.
I've eaten too many portions of fish and chips, played silly games in the evenings, watched water-skiers showing off on the lake, stopped Molly from chasing ducks, written half a story, edited some more of the novel and not done any cooking at all.
And now we're home.
The weather's glum, but I've still got a bit of a glow.
Mostly in the chest area.