London

No sooner were we back from the wedding than Tony went away to a retreat and I went to London. Yet again, I managed to get my various appointments in the same week as Chelsea Flower Show.

I was only able to get a ticket for the early evening session, so I had worked out how to use the time. I had two and a half hours, and spent one and a half hours of them in the pavilion, starting round the outside and working my way in -

trailing fuschias, delphiniums pointing to the sky, thirty sorts of daffodils all prettier than the next, diascias almost jumping out of their pots for joy, strawberries that smelt too good, and gowns made of flowers. Yes, really. In the centre was the Thai display where on a carpet of orchids stood an orchid temple, orchid elephants and peacocks, orchid bridges over orchid streams. But I always leave the roses till last, and met two lovely orange ones that I think may find a place in my garden. I nearly didn't go to Chelsea this year, and I'm so glad I did. It fed me. And I even treated myself to a glass of champagne - well, we have just had a wedding in the family.

The next day I met two delightful editors I've just started working with. It's difficult to do a book with somebody you haven't met, and I think we have a little Mutual Admiration Society going already. Then lunch at the British Library with a student I'm mentoring, and a sprint over to the top end of Kensington for a coffee and catch up with my agent. in spite of the rain I decided on a potter down Kensington Church Street and bought a Terry Pratchett book in a charity shop. Result.

Pity about the train home, which was packed. Many years ago when I was a student, sitting curled up on the floor in a corner of a train with my back against my case was par for the course. These days I'm too old and too stiff. Never mind. I had an Elizabeth Goudge book and memories of Chelsea, and my own bed to look forward to.