Last week I decided to take a proper day off. To stop and to smell the roses - literally, as it happens. I adore early summer. June, for me, is all about strawberries, Wimbledon (tennis being the only sport I ever choose to watch) and roses. Oh... and Pimms too. And elderflower cordial....
Anyway, on a glorious Sunday last weekend we went to David Austen's rose garden in Shropshire. The roses were incredible. Several times I felt like I was actually swooning; the sight, the smell was intensely happy-making.
Roses, roses everywhere. Gorgeous. And then, a cream tea on the terrace.
I couldn't think of a better way to spend a Sunday in June. Could you?