Greetings from the Old Rectory, where we went to have lunch with friends in Southwold today, and then enjoyed a walk along the beach. The light was so beautiful - there’s a particular quality of pearly translucence that I associate with this stretch of coastline in September - and Max dived into the waves with his characteristic joyfulness. By the time we got home, I felt ready to start writing a piece about my encounters with the Queen - which I should have done yesterday, but I was still feeling too weepy. The Queen, of course, was very good at keeping her emotions in check, and certainly wouldn’t have approved of my tears. But I like to think she’d have seen the point of a brisk walk in the bracing sea breeze, followed by a stiff drink. Mine’s a vodka gimlet this evening - so I’m raising my glass to Her Late Majesty, and I hope you’ll join me in a toast to her memory, and to her son, King Charles III.