I get invited to a few press days to which I normally reply
"Thank you kindly, but I'm not an actual blogger, I don't have a pro-photographer or a make-up and hair artiste that follow me around everywhere I go, nor do I have Instagram"
But when Ursula from Easton Walled Gardens telephoned to say I should expect an invitation to their press day, I was delighted. Mainly because there was a lunch, but also it meant that my ringing her every week to see if she was allowing marquees on the lawn yet, hadn't entirely p'd her off.
and there were lovely gardening types there, who talked animatedly about soil types and poly tunnels and I nodded politely and drank Prosecco and ate Pavlova.
and then like after all good press events, there were a myriad of highly informative blog posts about the history and the planting and all that shizzle.
and the internets don't need another one.
so i shall say, go and languish in the beauty of the gardens, the house long gone, but there is sufficient grandeur left. go for the afternoon, take a blanket, lie with a lover on the grassy terraces and act out your Lady Mary/ Matthew Crawley fantasies.
Or Elizabeth Bennett and Mr Darcy, Jayne Eyre and Mr Rochester
or any other tall dark brooding arrogant aristocrat / feisty society lady with ample bosom