Our two-week winter English sejour has been spent mostly in beautiful (and much under-rated) Nottinghamshire. There was a weekend's hiatus in Winchester. And tomorrow, we hope, a brief London bash will round off the trip, and send us on our way.

England (by a small margin) is the country where I have lived the longest. Coming back means stepping into much that is familiar, and much that is not. Memories, therefore, keep up a constant background chatter to every day's events.

Cafes. There are far more than there used to be. And the quality is definitely better. None of our cafe fare has been disappointing; much has been excellent; and lots of food memories have been revived.

Leek and potato soup served in a toasted bread roll (we first came across this idea in the Czech Republic); beef and ale pie with mashed potatoes and gravy; fine English Cheddar in sandwiches with ham, or in toasties with tomato; Stilton and bacon between slices of toasted granary bread; fish and chips with mushy peas; soft and creamy baked potatoes; firm and nutty new potatoes; scones with clotted cream and jam; egg custard tarts; sticky toffee pudding...

And new trends, too. Fancified hot chocolate (topped with whipped cream and marshmallows), gingerbread lattes, mini-desserts (tiny portions of pudding that come with a drink)...

In comparison with Indonesia, the English population is noticeably older. At lunchtimes, we're often the youngest by many years. Grey buying power must be fuelling this upsurge in cafes. As a rule, these customers don't want the high price tag that comes with dinner, and in any case don't want to be going out in the evening.

Historical buildings put icing on my cafe cake (although I often wish the heating was as good as the eating). In fact, its old buildings are one of my favourite things about England. My mother loved half-timbered houses and old churches and traditional villages, and passed on this enthusiasm to me.

This trip we revisited Southwell Minster and Winchester Cathedral.





The weight of ages in these places is immense. It calms. It restores perspective. It encourages reverence. Which is why, when I worked in Sherborne, I used to regularly visit the Abbey in my lunch-hours. Light a candle... Drink in the atmosphere... Temporarily forget what was going wrong with the print-runs at that particular moment...

A journey from Newark to Winchester takes you through many wonderful English villages. Red brick villages, yellow stone villages... I have absolutely no idea what it's like to live in an English village, but they are certainly easy on the eye.

Such green fields... Another emerald isle... They've had so much rain here this winter. A lot of land is waterlogged. The news bulletins are full of discussions about the rights and wrongs of dredging rivers.

Winter. Cold. Never liked the cold. But it's the time of year when the days are starting to stretch. The songbirds are out there, doing their stuff. There are snowdrops. A few trees are bravely putting out buds.



It's not my home any more, but I like it here.