It’s grand to be in London on a cold, dry, sunny December day when the air is gin clear. There may be a bit of pollution but it’s invisible unlike the pea-soupers in Holmes’s London and World War Two.
Usually we walk anti-clockwise round Gunnersbury – it is 185 acres, more than half the size of the farm at Barmeath – ending up on the terrace of the main house, where Derek presides over a coffee stall. Bertie has his home-made liver bites and I have a flat white. His stall has a proper coffee machine and is very neat – he packs it up in a few minutes.
