Garsington Opera

Mrs B and I were so spoiled tonight we may never recover.

Between Oxford and London and near the village of Garsington is the Wormsley estate, a gloriously pastoral idyll of ancient oaks and green-shouldered hills dotted with the occasional deer. And a very large, very beautiful, glass opera house. To which we were driven dressed in our finest long frocks and sparkles and where we mingled on the green and pleasant lawns beside the lake sipping pink champagne and munching on tiny, punch-packed nibbles.

The opera was Vert-Vert, a rarity by Offenbach which has been described as a bonkers frothy romp, a cross between Gilbert and Sullivan and St Trinians. You get the idea. It was colourful, hilarious, beautifully sung and mad as a hatter. Ooooh la la! Really good fun. At half time we retreated to one of these little tents for dinner and had delicious goodies featuring cucumber, smoked duck, rhubarb and meringue, though not all on the same plate. Then back for the second half and one last glorious sight of the landscape glowing like a huge Chinese lantern as we left.

The stuff dreams are made of, we were in fairyland.