Today, is sunny and warm, but the weather is distinctly autumnal.

On Friday, it was cloudy and cool. I headed to the South Downs to walk Domino and found a squad of Aston Martin drivers taking in the view, chatting away like a bunch of cockatoos. I could hear them talking about which pub to head to for lunch. They were members of a a club. The cars were vintage, current, and there was even a boxy, unattractive model made in the seventies. The sight of them took me by surprise, high above sea level; a reminder of the idiosyncrasies of the Brits.

I then headed to the Rogate Air Fair at the village church. The whole thing was very Vicar of Dibley. A woman was clutching a straw basket at the door, asking for donations to support refugees who had relocated to the Chichester area.

I bought a small oil of seagulls circling over East Head, at West Wittering, the furthermost point of Chichester Harbour; it is where Domino and I walk sometimes when I am pining for the sea. It was painted by a friend of a friend. She told me that she had painted it with her father, and had been reluctant to part with it. She had hoped it would go to someone she knew: who would appreciate it. Serendipity working – it was meant to be. I told her that my father, Stan the Man, and I shared a love for the sea.

As a result of the mutual reminiscing, thoughts of Dad shadowed the rest of my day. He was there in my dull consciousness, and then a distinct memory of him would flood to the forefront of my mind, pin sharp.

The sea; I am missing it. The freedom of it. Plunging into the froth of the breakers, and forgetting it all. Both Dad and I loved it! The ability to submerge body and soul into the turbulence of the surf.

On Saturday night, we went to a dinner party in Godalming, Surrey, north of the Old Rectory, back towards London. I sat next to a salt of the earth type, Alistair, married to Sally. Their marriage has revolved around boats on the Isle of Wight. Their three sons work in the boating world. One rowed at Winchester, the boarding school, with Team GB gold medallists who won at the Rio Olympics 2016.

Alistair has swum the Solent twice, in season and out. I bemoaned the fact that the water is freezing.

He explained that wetsuits these days are much lighter. He asked whether I knew what the ‘3/5 ‘ was. It is a wetsuit where the arms and legs are 3mms, and the body 5mms: improving limb movement. You no longer feel that you are in a heavy straightjacket. I was encouraged.

I told him that I was like a fish out water at the moment. That I had not swum in the sea since March when we were in Oz. He said that the next time I was on the south coast, I must ring him on the mobile, and he’d fetch me in his rib, so that I can swim in the sea.

“You’re on,” I grinned. But maybe next summer!

Today, I am heading off to Warwick to see Hugo and then heading south to a meeting in the Cotswolds. Domino is coming with me, and he will sleep in a hotel room for the first time in his short life.