We were getting to know the Swinglers very well, and drinking with them after their concerts, so we began to know Mary and Paddy too. Several times the three of us were invited to Randal’s country home in Pebmarsh for the weekend. It was a dear little thatched cottage – not all that little – but with no facilities – a well in the garden for water – a little hut with a wooden seat over a bucket for a lavatory and a wood fire and candles for heat and lighting – on a sharp bend in the lane just before you came to Pebmarsh. They bought it for £100 together with an acre of orchard a few years back.

Recently Mary and Paddy had bought for much more money a cottage nearly opposite the pub in the centre of the village, which they called “Great Lengths” as they went there to get out of London. Their very elderly mother also lived in the village and needed a lot of care. Geraldine’s daughter Judy was nearly grown up but Mary’s son was quite a bit younger than Gale. This was bad planning as it interrupted their professional life twice as much as if they had twins.

Quite a little colony of musicians had begun to grow up round Pebmarsh as people came to visit, fell in love with the village and bought their own places – Alan Rassthorn among many. Peter found them all very stimulating but tiring – and I didn’t feel it fitted in well with Gale.

It was their habit to get up late and, as soon as possible, walk to one of the two pubs to be ready for opening time and to stay drinking until closing time at 2 pm. After the stroll back and a bite to eat they would rest until tea time which merged into the walk to the pub for opening at 6 pm. If we went home at 11 pm when it closed we took a crate of beer with us – but frequently we were invited round the back to drink with the landlord – a source of the best dirty stories I have ever heard.

Peter and I had theories – life should be 90% Apollonian and 10% Dionesian – but at Pebmarsh it was the other way round, so only bearable in small doses.

Of necessity as we had Gale we had to modify the pattern anyway, but once or twice we left Gale in London and experienced the full weekend.

That year though, since I had promised to live in the country, we all spent Christmas there. Judy was there too. On Christmas morning Geraldine and Mary played the piano and Peter went outside into the frosty but sunny orchard and pruned some of the old apple trees while I cooked a large turkey in an oven over an oil stove. On Boxing day one of their friends flew in from Geneva bringing a small suitcase full of the best steak! There was no refrigerator so we had to cook and eat it. After years of rationing it was a feast indeed.