I spent Wednesday morning putting the finishing touches to the house hibernation: covering beds in plastic; draining the water system; spreading poison everywhere a rodent is likely to stroll; and set off for the channel around lunchtime.

An uneventful journey followed by a tolerable dinner, a bit of a drool over Soir 3's Marie Drucker and half a night's rest saw me bright and early by the quayside for the ferry to Dover. My car was checked for hidden immigrants on the French side but I was spared examination on arrival in England thanks to the unlucky Latvian ahead of me who must have looked like better pickings to the defenders of our frontiers.

There followed a day of stressful close combat. British motorway traffic when not at a standstill likes either to play at Formula 1 or to dawdle in the overtaking lanes. Yesterday there was more than enough standstill, much of it incomprehensible, so a journey estimated at nine hours took close to twelve.

But here I am safe and sound and everything looks set for a splendid winter season.