Tom's post

I have had quite a while to think about this one. Almost every night a fresh approach appears to me as if in a dream but, as with dreams, they dissipate like Summer mists in the morning.

Quite a few of my posts have begun by leaning out of the window. Just now that is what I did and this is what I saw. A large party of disparate people unified by some sort of dress-code, slowly promenading toward the river, where they stood with their backs to it for a while as if posing for a photo before slowly promenading in the opposite direction. No rush.

At first I thought it was a wedding, but now I am not so sure. A couple of the older men were wearing black shirts with white ties, like mature Bugsy Malone characters. Most of the men carried umbrellas which they self-consciously swung and tapped on the pavement with each step. They were all paired-up and deep in conversation. I wonder what brought them together and what the written instructions were. I hope I never find out.

While all of you have been doing my real work, I have been been crawling up and down 50 stone steps on my hands and knees by way of penance - not for something I did, but for something I didn't do. With a bit of luck I will have served out my sentence by the end of next week - until the next judgement. My life is similar to the rollicking 18th century diary of a rake right now, but without the rollicks or the occasional bouts of good fortune brought about by fickle fate.

There have been unexpected positive spin-offs from this job. I expected it to cripple me for what is left of my life, but in fact it has greatly enhanced my sense of balance and gone some way in compensating for my delinquent feet, which do not always do what they are told and refuse to wear sensible shoes.

Try as you might, it is hard not to enjoy a good Summer. By 'good' I don't mean three months of relentless sunshine, but a good English Summer with liberal sprinklings of nourishing rain from majestic white clouds hiding silver linings.

H.I. begins the last of her Summer schools next week, and then we can look forward to the first hint of Autumn carried on the late August breeze. This is the time we usually go to another country to see how they do it, but not this year for reasons which many people seem to have ignored. I like hotels, but I would not want to spend ten days and £1700 being locked up in one for the safety of others.

Was it really two years ago that we went to Venice in the Winter? Was it more? I can calculate between Augusts, but not August to Christmas. It is a totally different mind-set and I cannot switch mid-term.

It was in Venice that my feet became stroppy and refused to wear proper shoes. Like teenagers being dragged around art galleries by their parents, they did nothing but complain for the whole holiday. I have been arguing with them ever since, but now they think they are too old to be told what to do. This is a problem for me. I have always looked down on old men in trainers. You can - usually - tell a lot about men in their choice of footwear.

Enjoy yourselves.