Half-term, as it tends to, came out of nowhere. One minute I was ticking along happily, watching travel restrictions collapse like fence panels in a three-storm week. The next I had a full seven days to fill, a pandemic-weary wife and two kids staring at me expectantly and — for the first time in two years — precious few excuses to hide behind.
But there’s more than one way to get some winter sun, as I remind them when, three days into our hastily arranged Herefordshire getaway, a few brave rays make a break for it from the ubiquitous rain clouds. It’s testament to the county’s rapidly unfurling charms that the family don’t bludgeon me over the head with a flagon of cider.
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