It said in The Times, so ergo a matter of record, that the British are morning people and hopefully you will agree that that is A Good Thing.  (At some point I must find time to go through these blogs and compile a list of Things Officially Stated to be Good. It’s probably how they came up with the Ten Commandments).  By the evening we have apparently slumped back to our normal selves before listening to ‘Book at bedtime’ and ending the day on a national low.

I am very much a morning person although not quite as early as the cat would like me to be, what with dawn, her breakfast bell, ringing at 4.00am in June. If this goes on much longer she will find her Whole Foods Organic Kitty Kaviar will become a bowl of Lidl’s Extra Economy Pet Food, some circus animal filler.  Perhaps she should join me on my Scottish adventures but in Mid-winter to break her of the habit…

The dizzy round of summer events started to look like Hyde Park Corner in the rush hour even before the error of judgment to spend time in Brighton.  No names, no pack drill but you know who you are and we must show more restraint.  At some point.  Probably in the distant future.

Thence to Hastings to sample the legendary Maggie’s Restaurant before heading back for a night out in London and then the Annual Pub Quiz Team barbecue, no less bacchanalian than last year and reporting of which is best kept to a miminum.  As in ‘Drink was taken’.  Two guests have since left the country and one goes into hospital on Monday, events that I continue to assume are unrelated.

The birthday next day of Useless the Younger was positively respectable by comparison.  What is wrong with young people?  (See Blogs 3, 4, 7, 11 and 14).

Let’s, and not for the first time, blame everything on the weather.  Which, whisper it if you dare, continues to be glorious.  It was described on Radio 4 (ergo etc) as Goldilocks weather – not too hot, not too cold.  Moderation that does, and always will, define us as a nation.  And summer is never lovelier that first thing in the morning.  (You will have to insert here your own Wordsworthian stuff about sparkling dew.  I don’t do poetic).

Marie Antoinette said as she faced the guillotine ‘Just one little minute more, Monsieur Executioner’ and today or tomorrow – or even every day – just stop, preferably first thing when optimism is still coursing through your veins and take a moment to enjoy the now.  Just a minute.