There is hardly a cloud in the sky. Not a leaf stirs. Whilst acres of Britain are waist deep in water, our small corner of England is experiencing a perfect Summer's day.
Barrels of flowers have suddenly put on a gaudy display and bees go about their business in search of their sweet harvest.
Here at the pub, families gather in the garden and study the menu in anticipation of a lunch 'al fresco'. Children rush to the swings and slides, and strangers become friends.
Steaming platters of food are carried across the lawn to be eaten with gusto by hungry folk enjoying the warmth of the mid day sun.
Plates of local lamb piled high with crisp roast potatoes and vegetables from our garden. Slices of crimson beef with towers of yorkshire puddings, amid lakes of rich gravy. Succulent pork with crunchy crackling and apple sauce.
Kids eat burgers, and earnest long haired students pick at salads, whilst finding solutions to the environmental problems that are causing chaos in other parts of our sceptred isle.
In the bar Samuel holds his tankard of frothing ale toward the light and gazes at it's nut brown beauty. "An estimable suffusion" he cries, and his colleagues nod in agreement. " Will you join me in a tincture" he asks, and I gratefully accept.
The peace is broken by the low throbbing of three gleaming Harleys. The proud riders encircle their glistening chrome monsters, and youngsters stand gazing in jaw-dropping admiration. The sound is soon replaced by the clip clop of two horses, and every young girl in the garden rushes to be the first to stroke their shining coats. And then a tractor pulls in. Fred is taking a well earned break from cutting his acres of hay.
I stand and look around at the happy smiling faces, the rolling countryside, and the blue sky above, and I realise how blessed I am to live in this idyll. Simple beauty, innocent charm and blissful tranquility. Blessed indeed.