A postcard sandwich.

We have had the most divine breakfast at our potter and children's book writer friends, David and Sarah Garland. It consists of home made granola with stem ginger and apple compote, a curly kipper and café au lait, all served on our favourite pottery. So harmonious is it all that the Garland mark and the curly kipper practically do a salsa on the plate. Then, under a fleece of cloud and past sun-yellow fields of rape, we drive back to Frome, to the conference room complete with sandwiches and mini-bar, with Delia and Jamie's cookery books lining the shelves, that has been reserved for us at Butler Tanner and Dennis.

The printers have been hard at work during the night, and there is a new pass to sign off, plus two new sheets to see. My favourite of Julian's paintings, possibly ever, seems to sparkle. The green bowl in the pomegranate painting is perfect for the first time and the rougets positively zing! The book is going to be magnificent!!!

Meanwhile, further down the production line, the Glyndebourne opera programme, with its David Hockney cover, is being pummeled and blown, strimmed, folded, stroked, punched, glued, threaded and bound, just like Julian's book will be next week. The brochure travels down miles of conveyor belt, its various bits drying and readying themselves for the next treatment. Overhead in floppy pipes the wasted rakes, billys and hansels whizz off across the ceiling to the recycling bin, just like bits of leek and mackerel and wheatfield will do on Monday.



I resist the urge to rub out the name of a certain person on the orchestra list on the back page.








'Next up' says our rep 'The Garsington brochure!'

So there goes Julian's book, sandwiched in between my ex and my current employers' opera programmes! On it's way to Bedoin, and then, perhaps, even, to a bookstore near you!