Charlie and I went to a ball type family affair in Portsmouth a couple of weekends ago. I realise. It was a hot journey down there, filled with wrong turns, rushing roads, sunglasses shifting up to see better, spires and leaves, fumes and country swells. We got there for a cup of tea with the family by the large burning window, the sea calling behind the pebbles, a wedding cackling by the door. An ice cream, a walk in hand, a gin and tonic in the room. Dancing, lipstick, bow tie tantrums and photos flashes. Courses of food, speeches and more. Morning breakfast and a stop in Salisbury before the weekend puffs into the distance once again.