To Godalming, for my cousin Peter's 60th birthday party. What could be more English that those strawberries and cream, the red checkered wicker basket liners? And yes, those are a couple of cats on top of the cake - it runs in the family. You'll see that it's sunny ...
... but it wasn't sunny all of the time: nothing says an English Garden Party like a damp tent, steam/smoke from the barbecue, and the smell of wet grass (my cousin Jon in the foreground).
The talk, nonetheless, was very much of Brexit, our horror at Brexit, the difficulties for anyone with jobs that involve engagement with Europe, the position of one of my second cousins' Spanish partner, our sense of shame/embarrassment (yes, that's very British, too), as well as anger. And we want to know where we can obtain "We are the 48%" badges. Something, too, that floated through the air were the many rumors of friends-of-friends who voted Out as a protest vote, never dreaming that the Leave campaign would win: it would be fascinating to know whether this is a real widespread phenomenon, or a (sub)urban myth.
To conclude: the birthday boy ... Happy Birthday (on Thursday), Peter!