The Picnic Papers

On Wednesday, for the first time this year, it was warm enough in London to sit out in the garden in the early evening with the awning out. My thoughts turned to picnics and, a glass of chilled dry sherry to hand, I reached for The Picnic Papers. (I put a half bottle of Sauternes in the picture as it is an excellent picnic wine.)

This anthology, edited and compiled by Susanna Johnston and Anne Tennant, published in 1983, is so addictive that it should only be sold on prescription. To pick out only a few of the contributors would be to do the book an injustice, so here’s the lot.

I hope this has whetted your appetite. As an added attraction some of the contributors have provided black and white photographs of their picnics. Let’s take a look into this eclectic hamper of goodies.

Patrick Lindsay’s Fourth of June picnic was in 1946. Lady Clark was his hostess and her young sons Alan and Colin are in the photograph.  Patrick remembers -It had been a poor summer. Home-grown strawberries had not been up to scratch. Ours were flown from Israel. Cream obtained with a struggle. My first ever pâté en croûte.

I must admit the picture of this picnic makes it all look a bit frosty in spite of the rather lavish menu at a time of food rationing. He furnishes the receipt for the p en c, and jolly complicated it looks.

James Lees Milne’s recollection of birthday picnics on the river Avon at Evesham are also not cheerful. Princess Margaret’s assertion that “nearly all picnics in Britain end up in a layby by the road because, in desperation, no one can decide where to stop” surely cannot be drawn from personal experience? She contributes a receipt for avocado soup. Diana Cooper is a real aficionado, although they are rather elaborately arranged picnics. Her son, John Julius Norwich, claims to have had 147 consecutively – in 1966 crossing and re-crossing the Sahara.

I cannot compete with that but I do remember with considerable pleasure about ten days of picnics in the south Sahara with my sister, friends and friendly Tuareg guides. These days my picnics are less exotic, although equally pleasurable: Glyndebourne, Grange Park and Garsington.

Meanwhile, I have not been out of the UK for more than six months. It’s the longest I’ve stayed put for about forty years but tomorrow’s post will be from abroad.