Thanks for the flight details. I’m really looking forward to seeing you on the first. It will be great to have you here!

Simon and I are on the mend. He took off for a few days on his motorcycle when I was in London, and I wondered if that was it for us. It turns out that he went with Phil to some drink-fest in Nottingham. He was happier when he came back, so I guess it was good for him.

Since then we’ve been getting along much better. We’ve actually started dating again, which is sweet and romantic. Last night we went out for an Indian meal and the night before saw a film. All discussions of the house are off limits. That has helped a lot, except that there are some minor issues in need of resolution that we are steadfastly avoiding.

One that we’re going to have to face soon is a recent infestation of  mice. Hopefully they’ll all be gone by the time you get here. I’d like to get a cat. Simon will probably be for dropping poison all over the place.

Emma is still living here, but I’ve sorted out a bedroom for you and James. She’s furious with Frank, and he’s looking quite wretched. I still haven’t asked why. It’s better not to know, I think.

Shirley has relented in her campaign against me. I gave her grandson a ride back to University last weekend, and that seemed to placate her somewhat. He’s a great kid; really funny and smart. I hope that all our eccentricities didn’t scare him away, and that he’ll come back before next summer.

I’ve also had a brief chat with Chester. He wanted me to meet him for a "heart to heart" at the Idiot, but was willing to settle for a cup of tea on the High Street one afternoon. I told him again that I wasn’t interested in a romantic relationship and he said he understood. We’ll see what happens. And by the way, he is tall and pale, but definitely not balding.

The local paper did a story on me for their last issue, and the reporter was merciless. It seems I haven’t been fulfilling my manorial duties, or that I’ve been too opinionated, too profligate, or just too…American. Simon was incensed when he read it, and I was a bit hurt, but we decided to be gracious and invite the editor to our house party anyway. Oh, did I mention that we’re planning a party while you’re here? One of those lavish ‘Great Gatsby’ type affairs with a string quartet, lots of food and drink, and half the village invited. Something seems to be expected of us, and this will be a fun way of complying.

I'll see you both at Gatwick.  Have a safe flight!