It has been raining steadily, single-mindedly, since this morning, at least since I slowly blinked awake in the damp light, to the sounds of the cars going by on the wet street outside. It is a sound like small waves gently coming to the sand and folding into foam.

It rained all afternoon yesterday, too, and I had to send Dan a note about the picnic he’d planned. “May I gently express my concern,” I wrote, aiming for insouciance. “Chin up,” he wrote back, playing insouciance to its hilt, “forecast is for a sunny evening.” He is a madman, I thought, but, you know, I am game. Still, when I got Laureen on the phone later, I let out the thought that had been bouncing around in my mind. “He is a madman,” I said, and I peered out the window at the noncommittal sky. “Are these people you’re meeting English?” she said. “Because then the picnic’s definitely on no matter what.”

The 73 bus downtown drove under a grey cloud, but the rain had stopped falling, at least. By the time I hit the Kowloon Bakery for picnic treats – char siu buns, still warm, and a box of curry puffs – the sun was out and the breeze had blown all the clouds away. Half-past six and the sky was blue as a bluebird perched on a smurf’s bare shoulder. England never ceases to amaze.

We were three, then four, then five and six on the green in Green Park; we laid out the picnic mat – an Ikea tablecloth in disguise – and emptied our bags: sausage rolls and grapes and slim carrots and strawberries bursting with sweet, chocolate-covered chocolate cake and more sausage rolls, a bag of Jelly Babies and sausage rolls, still, and a chardonnay called Le Froglet. If we are not a generation raised on Enid Blyton, I don’t know what is. We sat and watched the long-haired daschunds running by on legs trying to catch up with dog; we lounged while Laura recited an admirable amount from The Sound of Music – “Verbatim,” she precised, and I could almost hear Captain Von Trapp blowing his whistle down the hall. We lolled about – the sun was out, the rain forgotten – till the light deepened into dusk. I had to go to the toilet, anyway, and the only building I could see through the trees was Buckingham Palace.