Time is almost up. Pack tomorrow, fly Monday, start varnishing on Tuesday.

It’s been great here in Blighty. Seen a shed load of people. Whizzed around the country a bit. Done a modicum of work. Been out playing some too. So all in all a full on successful time.

It’s reassuring to know Britain is still full of kindly folk and mad characters. They provide a welcome distraction from the political fug that currently permeates and consumes daily life.

I met a old boy at the local cricket game who informed me he’d sung Frank Sinatra’s My Way in pretty much every boozer in the East Midlands. His rendition, (there was no way he wasn’t sharing his self professed talent) was truely awful and was delivered in true pub singer style. I asked him why My Way, to be told it was the only tune he could remember the words to. Small mercies.

Don’t know when we’ll be back next. We’re on our way to New Zealand.