The stately homes of England

Driving through the Holkham estate, a farting noise to the right of the car reveals itself to be one of the gamekeepers on a quad bike racing along the grass past the car. Slung over the rider's back is a single shot rifle for use in dispatching pests such as squirrels, foxes or any tourists that start acting up or drive their mobility chariots where they are not supposed to.

At last - the interior of Holkham Hall! After many visits in the winter visiting when it's shut, this time it was open and in we went. All very stately home. Flock wallpaper, fireplaces, velvet ropes cordoning off things you're not supposed to fondle and lots of oil paintings of ancestors in wigs of varying hilarity.

Using wheedle, charm and my best 'telephone voice', I managed to get the guide to open up the family room. This is reputed to be one of the most beautiful rooms in England and I had to agree. It was posh, it was lovely and it didn't have any ikea furniture in it. Possibly one can tell how posh a room is by just how much of a bugger it is to dust (though old ladies rooms full of nick-nacks and cats distort this scale) but this one just looked...lovely. The room is three cubes put together, with a fireplace in the middle, sofas and easy chairs dotted around and books lining the walls. I was so much at home I nearly rang for a glass of brandy, pulled down a volume and put my feet up. Indeed, if I were to make any change it would be to replace the books in the room (all printed in 1700 or thereabouts, rare first editions) and get some real family reading in there, a sprinkling of Catherine Cooksons, Stephen Kings, Dickens, Amis, Amis and, to lend tone, Churchill.

On the way out the deer in the park turned their heads en masse to watch our cars pass, like little antlered satellite tracking dishes.