All very English

Champagne and canapés in the garden of this lovely house last night. It was built several years before The Great Fire of London and the yew trees were planted at the same time.

The owner showed me an early 18th century engraving of it and there were two rows of three yews, cut into the shape of cones as topiary. Subsequent generations did not bother to keep up the formality, so now there are four unkempt, 300 year-old ones which cast deep shadow over a large area.

You now have to approach the house from the back, but originally there was a long drive through what is now an overgrown field at the front. The friendly cat came up to me by jumping through the large, wrought iron gates which still hang from the massive stone pillars with enormous balls at their tops.

Not realising that I am a stone conservator, the owner told us that he would like to refresh the lime wash on the walls himself, but did not fully know how to go about it. I gave him my card and offered my help, so I think - and hope - that I will be going back there one day soon.

The garden party was warm and humid, with young girls playing on a wooden swing hanging in the gloom from one of the yew tree branches. All very English.

The party was for a friend celebrating her 70th birthday. She spent lockdown in this house. I could not think of a better place to be incarcerated for a few weeks.