O, which way shall I first convert myself?

Here, in the transept and choir, where the service was being held, one was conscious every moment of an increasing brightness; colours glowing vividly beneath the circular chandeliers, and the rows of small lights on the choristers' desks flashed and sparkled in front of the boys' faces, deep linen collars, and red neckbands.

It must have been the magnetism of the viaduct that towers over the village of Harringworth, and which crosses the flood plain of the River Welland on the border of Rutland and Northamptonshire, which drew my family to living close by when we moved to Britain's smallest county in the early 1990s.

A simple recess for lunch can turn into a nooner—a midday sexual encounter.