Grass much greener in this garden

I DON’T know how he does it, keeping his lawn like a crown bowling green.

There are no weeds, the grass is short and the turf bouncy underfoot as if he’s put down one of those bed underlays advertised on telly.

We’re in former TV producer Stephen’s garden in Lothersdale, deep in a fold of the Pennines, for afternoon tea. And, er, something a little more refreshing.

Properly distanced, we are six, on fancy recliners that give me terminal anxiety that I’ll never get up again. That’s no problem as food and wine keep coming to the table, and the conversation doesn’t flag.

Next minute. we’ve been there more than four hours and Mrs R is jangling her car keys. This is a sign universally understood. Words are unnecessary. It means get your a**e into gear, sonny. But what talk!

I learn that Angela Rippon was a previous guest on this hallowed turf, visiting her former producer. Smartly dressed, she stunned locals with her vibrant self confidence.

“Do you know she’s not as tall as those gorgeous legs would suggest?” asks ex-teacher Kendal, tucking into his 7% bottled beer.

No, nor had I heard before that Penelope Keith once had a cottage in Wycoller, just over the border in Lancashire, a historic hamlet that appears in a Bronte novel.

Celebrity status, even if it was a long time ago. This corner of Yorkshire does attract the discerning.

Ex-BBC man Lance Price, who worked for Tony Blair in No 10, has taken a cottage in Bradley across the valley from us.

Why bother with travel when the world can come to you?