Country pursuits

The purchase of new swimwear is an activity guaranteed to strike fear into my heart. And into those of my nearest and dearest, forced to witness tears, tantrums and on occasion, full-blown and prolonged depression.

This year, however, we are spared. Yes, DJ S bypassed the whole traumatic process by presenting me with a marvellous black costume, which not I not only liked the look of but which actually FITTED.


She is in charge of my leisurewear from now on.

Suitably equipped, we skipped off to Hartwell Hall, a delightful country house hotel somewhere in the Home Counties, to sample their spa facilities.


Imagine our rapture on being told we'd been upgraded. To a room with a four-poster bed.


Which was of course perfect for....


Porking down smoked salmon sandwiches and slurping Sauvignon Blanc, swathed in robes at all times.

We lounged by the pool reading Vogue.

Piqued our appetites with a selection of delightful amuse-bouches.

Battled at after-dinner backgammon in the library.

And avoided the Mother's Day crush.

I tried to get her to dive into the lake for a Mr Darcy moment, but she wasn't having any of it.

Am seriously thinking of buying a twinset and tweeds.