The grass is as high as battered, bedraggled, Buckinghamshire bunting. It has been sixty days since the last Spot but no doubt feels like 60 years. The rains that are sweeping across Northern Europe have done their job on the plains which now resemble fertile Sandringham acres. The larger ruminants are in clover, trumpeting and stotting with indulgence and joy, matching any squall-swept street party…read more
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