This from an old friend of the family (she is 95) who telephoned quite late on Friday evening and “suggested” I visit on Sunday. It is miles and miles to her retirement place, and she doesn’t really like it, and I’m not in the least surprised given her love of good food and wine. The food is frightful. Which is why I’m going after lunch and before “tea”.

She has led an extraordinary life and I used to rent a cottage in Observatory Street in Oxford from her and she would arrive at top speed in a bright white BMW armed with Chianti and other delights from Lina Stores (the original one in Brewer Street) and we would have rather shaky feasts on a card table and she would tell me about her life in Italy. And Somalia. And Sardinia. And Dartmoor.

She has fond memories of the family and told me that my father had dowsed (he was taught by a great uncle and was a member of British Society of Dowsers) her drawing room to find the spot she was happiest and she had moved her best armchair there and it was just perfect. Apparently she had been sitting on a bad ley line, so no wonder uncomfortable. He sorted the ley line later. We are talking peak Dartmoor here!

I am going to dowse my sitting room and find out if my complete reorganisation of furniture explains how pleasing it is now. It wasn’t in the least bit before. I didn’t dowse it, but had a sudden feeling last Monday that I needed to shift EVERYTHING round. Including bookshelves and that means unloading them and then reloading them, hoping that everything will fit in again. Not for the faint hearted.

Here is a photo of cheerful dahlias in a green vase to celebrate now comfortable sitting room.

I remembered to take a notebook with me on my visit in order to record laundry methods before the modernisation of Italy, which she told me began with the arrival of television in the late ‘50s. The central local bar would have one and everyone would watch there, entranced by washing machines and other American swishness.

However, fascinating though it is to learn how wood ash filtered through hessian grade cloth to clean linens is (I assume delicates might not have survived this), it was thrilling to somehow get onto Violet Trefusis. Who appears to have been something of a number, which I already knew, but what I didn’t know was that she had a table in the antechamber to the antechamber (there were lots) with a large, beautifully printed notice “Presents HERE”.

Presents were absolutely expected. R left her a tinsel crown (naughty hooting from R and shrieks from me), when she was eventually invited to dine (her father in law and husband were regulars, I gather, VT being a lively type, and so, I suspect, were they). R not amused “I had to DEFEND my husband ….”. “Which was really quite unexpected, but you must recall I was quite young at this point, when you think of that gardener person at Sissinghurst! I do hope I’ve not shocked you ….”. This she did by ringing up and bothering the butler a lot when she had seen transgression in the offing in the opposite Palazzo. Like every two minutes … which REALLY interrupted his stately progress …. and THEN she would put the phone down … I suspect this is now illegal …

Hooray! The post has arrived and has been signed for, and I must dash out (which I couldn’t before - waiting, waiting, ironing, putting on laundry, washing up, hating all my clothes, waiting …..) and get the things I need to get in order to finish the work I need to get into the post by close of play today. And you thought I was a person of leisure and retired. I keep trying but it is useless, things keep appearing, people ask me to do stuff and instead of saying “no WAY, I am painting my toenails today”, I say “but, of COURSE ….”.

And the washing machine has beeped, so I can hang up all the clothes I’m going to see if I can SELL, and then buy one jumper and a rain cape thing.

It is definitely end of August and I’ve actually bought next year’s diary. Green. A5. With lots of pages for notes.

Speaking of “notes”, I’m going to post this on “notes” because then anyone who likes this can press the heart button. This is an emoji and I don’t have it on my ancient laptop and still, regrettably, haven’t worked out how to download one so that it works when pressed ….. but I shall. One day.