It is refreshing to be reminded: England can still surprise you. I have lived in Chipperfield, Redheath and Sarratt for a total of 45 years and have since completed a further eight years of essentially rural lifein France but, the other week, heading for our neice’s wedding near Hitchin, we were amazed at the degree of natural unspoilt countryside in that locality.

It is far more rural than in south-west Herts and we had the opportunity to sit back and enjoy the view,courtesy of a 1952 red double-decker low-roof bus, hired to ferry guests from hotel; to church and to the reception and back, albeit at around 25mph.

It completed a number of travelling days, for we had driven up to England from St Amans-Soult in the Tarn some nine days ago. We headed north towards our old stamping grounds round Limoges and then, after driving on for another half-an-hour, Ellie took over the driving.

We hadn’t stopped for a coffee and a toilet/petrol break during the first five hours of the trip, so I felt refreshed when I returned to the driving seat a couple of hours later, a few miles north of Orleans .

We drove into Paris and found the Periphique somewhat turgid. People talk about it as if it was the worst stretch of road in northern Europe. Have they tried the M25, I wonder?

We made it through Paris and we were clear of the heavy traffic well before the rush-hour but we were caught out by road works in Picardy, where one lane of the motorway on the other side of the central barrier had been commandeered to help ease the problem. We lost 20 minutes there but we arrived in the centre of Arras in good time. We had booked a hotel for the night, choosing a town within an hour of Calais. What a choice. We had never been there before, despite having toured the Pas de Calais on a couple of occasions. What a magnificent central square, cathedral et al.

After parking in the square and refreshing ourselves with a cuppa, we caught up with our emails and then set off to study the menus outside the numerous restaurants. Again we made a superb choice with the poele d’escargots proving to be possibly the best I have ever had.

The next day we drove to Calais. They have put up two rows of new fences, with barbed wire at the top and there is a police presence but we did not see any would-be immigrants. The port itself has been subjected to a new configuration with lorries entering and then being locked in a purpose-built barn where presumably they undergo heat-seeking checks before allowed to head for the queues for embarcation.

We had little problem going through the border control but we did think one aspect was a little bizarre. We have an estate and, in anticipation of bringing some goodies back from Blighty, we brought along our five-foot roof pod, which fitted neatly behind us in the car. We had a couple of suitcases inside it. I knew they would want to inspect the pod and I had cleared the rear of the car in anticipation, so I could pull it out sufficiently for it to be opened and checked. The strange thing was; they never asked. Our passports were returned and we drove through to the P&O gate and thence to the ferry. We could have had a couple of small individuals secreted in the pod.

We were back in our homeland and immediately we noticed the appalling state of the A2, in respect of the road surface and later, when joining the M25, we experienced a lengthy hold up before we made it finally back to Sarratt.

We unpacked and sped down to Watford and the Intu Mall as it is called now, where we purchased our US currency in preparation for our holiday in the USA.

But first we had the wedding to attend and what a superb event that proved to be. Becky, who is something of an upmarket wedding photographer (see Rebeccas’s Weddings website), has seen enough weddings to know what she did and did not want. They must have put in many hours in the marquee, setting up what was a very rural reception. Outside, there were hay bales for those who wished to sit; skittles and rounders and portable toilets that were so up-market, with the aid of a few pints of Sidepocket to help free the imagination, it seemed almost like visiting a stately home.

A jazzband played outside and later the disco focused on 1980s music. The attention to detail and style of the whole day was a credit to Becky and her vision.

We had a lift back with a friend of the family’s of a similar age to ourselves. “Didn’t that old music stand up well: particularly the 1950s stuff!” he said.

Indeed it did. When we turned up the volume on our record players we would be instructed to turn that racket down. hearing Elvis, Chuck and company at a decibel level that rendered conversation something of an obstacle course, it was indeed quite an eye-opener as well. Those old tracks stood up very well.

The only blight on the landsape was when travelling through the countryside on a dual-carriageway, we noticed the central reservation ws awash with litter. If you can imagine a five0-mile traffic jam and everyone filling in time by cleaning out their car, rubbish bags and ashtrays, the effect would have been much the same.

There was only one bum note for me. The bride and groom had their first dance to Dire Strait’s Romeo and Juliet. When the other guests joined in, I propelled Ellie to the floor saying we could not miss this dance. My wife looked a little baffled and so I reminded her of a day in 1980 when, on my day off, she returned from the doctor’s who confirmed she was pregnant with our youngest. I put on the hi-fi and we danced to Romeo and Juliet. Unfortunately she did not remember it at all.

Then again, I suppose one romantic is enough for any family.