Home at last. After a picnic on the Moors with some friends, we motored on homeward through the disgustingly dirty villages. The farmers and village folk in this part of Yorkshire are particularly scruffy and unkempt. Mr Porter was waiting with another scrumptious tea. We sat on the veranda and talked through the sunset of the Empire and the King. Early to bed for tomorrow we have the shoot in honour of the Marquis of Twitdale.