I missed a photo-opportunity in Chatham on Thursday before I set off, and I missed another in Oxford on Friday after I arrived. Since then I have mostly been either painting walls or paint-stripping a fire-surround and not having anything at all to do with my camera, hence my absence.

On Sunday night this 1973 50p coin came to light and it reminded me, not only of the joy of joining the European Community (by whatever name) but also of my youthful naivety. I used to have a savings account at the Post Office and when I was very small I thought that everyone had a little drawer beneath the counter with their name on it. When you deposited money it was popped into your personal drawer, when you withdrew money it was taken from your personal drawer, and when interest was added someone went along all the drawers popping pennies in here and there. By 1973 I knew better than that.

But whenever one of these commemorative 50ps came my way I hung onto it and didn't spend it. By the time I'd amassed 13 of them I understood that they would be far more use in my Post Office savings account and although I knew I would not get them back as special commemorative coins, I did rather hope that the teller might make a remark about my proud collection. I surrendered them all across the counter with their hands up, hoping the teller would notice. She didn't.