I really should know better. On Monday we set off on plan A with Keith and Marlene. I can’t remember what plan A was but I do remember thinking that my camera would not be required. After a mere 5 minutes or so my navigation officer switched to plan B. We ended up driving round some of our typically English village and local countryside locations such as Ivinghoe Beacon and Ashridge.

En route from Ivinghoe Beacon to Ashridge are a couple of stunning bluebell woods, one of which attracts an almost constant flow of admirers; so many admirers that an ice cream van stations itself opposite and does a brisk trade, even in our currently wintery airflow.  However, what made us slam on the brakes was the other, less popular wood which, this year, seems to have come of age and eclipsed its more popular neighbour. What set this wood apart was a lack of other people and a lack of dead wood spoiling an otherwise good line up. Keith and Marlene, hitherto unfamiliar with bluebells, clicked away with their pocket digitals while all I could do was pick out shots I’d like to take had I been sensible enough to bring my camera. Lose 10 points. Marlene kindly let me try a shot or two with her camera but I failed to hold the small camera steady enough in my klutzy hands. We continued the tour.

K & M had expressed an interest in the stunningly yellow rape fields that are currently turning our countryside into something out of Vincent Van Gogh’s notebook. We thought we knew just the spot for another photo shoot. I again borrowed Marlene’s camera with only slightly better results.

On Tuesday afternoon, while others decided to relax at home under the occasional glowering cloud, I corrected my original oversight and returned to both the bluebell wood and rape field armed with camera, lenses and tripod. After only 5 minutes or so I had the bluebell wood to myself and did two circuits merrily re-using pixels as though they were going out of fashion. Eventually a couple of other tripods arrived with their owners and began doing likewise. Our tripods compared notes before I took mine off to the rape field where I managed to grab a single shot before one of the glowering clouds obliterated the celestial spotlight. I’ve tried rape fields before and always been disappointed but at last I seem to have something with which I’m satisfied.

Isn’t spring a colourful time of year and shouldn’t I know by now always to travel with a camera? Dumbo!

I’ve been before but so many bottles of wine ago that I can remember hardly anything about it. Our visitors, Keith and Marlene from Richmond, Va., had never been but it was high on their list of places to see, and quite rightly so. ‘T was advertised as a mainly dry day and it was not a weekend so off we set. Given my recent troubles attempting to use our currently unusable motorways in these parts, and the fact that Windsor is a mere 40 miles distant, off we set across country.

Having let rush hour disperse, we were doing quite well until heading down towards Amersham from Wendover. Close to Great Missenden our progress was halted by a stationary queue of traffic the end of which was out of sight. My navigation officer suggested a diversion through Great Missenden and into Beaconsfield via a rather more circuitous, more cross-country route.

We were off again and things continued well until, following the signs for Beaconsfield town centre, we ran across a “road closed” sign. It rather looked as though a fair was being set up. Was there a diversion around the obstruction? No! Not a word, nada, rien, nichts!

Some traffic was turning right so we followed hoping that they were local enough to know what they were doing. Apparently they did because eventually we came to the A40, the major road running through Beaconsfield. Somewhat relieved, we turned left towards Beaconsfield to get back on course. After about half a mile my jaw fell open as we ran across another “road closed” sign. What?*! Was there a diversion sign? No! Not a word, nada, rien, nichts! I was beginning to spot a pattern. This is the A40 for Darwin’s sake. You surely can’t completely close the A40, a major trunk road between London and Oxford running through the centre of Beaconsfield, without a word about how to circumvent the obstruction? It seems they could. The few vehicles ahead of me began doing U-turns in a handy garage forecourt. I followed suit and tossed the problem back to my navigation officer once again.

Eventually, after nearly two hours of being foiled by traffic jams, closed roads and single-track roads with passing places, we arrived at Windsor and managed to park in a long term car park for our visit. It was a good job we decided to go today and not tomorrow – tomorrow the car park would be closed for the Windsor Castle Royal Tattoo preparations.

It had also been nearly two hours of being constantly pounded, jolted and jarred by our now utterly pathetic road surfaces. It is a mark of how green we have become when we are “in residence” – we really do not use the car that much at home these days – that I didn’t know just how universally atrocious our road surfaces now are. Get off the pot-holed (or inexplicably closed) main roads and, in addition to pot-holes, there are frequent over-severe speed bumps with which to contend. We felt battered and drained after a mere 40 miles. It’s a wonder that our vehicles don’t all fall apart.

Unfortunately Her Majesty was not "in residence" so our guests didn’t get to see the Royal Standard flying but Windsor Castle was great, especially with the audio tour now included in the £16.00 entrance fee. I couldn’t help but be amused, however, as we paid to see the Queen’s primary residence. In common with many establishments, UK tax payers can Gift Aid their entrance fee. If I understand Gift Aid correctly, this would reclaim from the Queen’s government the tax paid on our entrance fee and gives it back to the Queen. But doesn’t the Queen’s government give a chunk of our taxes, currently £7.9m, to the Queen et al for official public duties in the form of the Civil List? Curious.

Don’t get me wrong, I have always been, and remain, a Royalist, it just seemed a strange situation given the money flow. The Crown Estate generates, after all, almost £200m in revenue for the government … or should I be saying lack-of-government given the result of last week’s general election?