I asked my husband Simon what we had done in the last seven days that was worthy of translating.

We can usually be found circumnavigating the county visiting nooks and crannies in Oxfordshire that we’ve never set foot in before. Discovering a new pub somewhere off the beaten track and a walk with the dogs in breathtaking scenery equals big success in our quest for something new.

Sunday seems to be the favoured day... the usual drill is donning our wellies and heading for somewhere unknown, safe in the knowledge that we will fit in with the locals wherever we go, decked out in waxed green and with two jack russells in tow.

My husband is an ex-farmer so carries off a tweed cap rather well. We have had many an entertaining afternoon trying out new menus and engaging in conversations with locals. However, the last week has not been as active as usual, with the grotty weather holing us up in Chipping Norton, momentarily scuppering our hunger for discovery and adventure. Not to mention Simon’s sore head after spending last Saturday night out in Chippy with a good friend.

Sadly he was scolded by his wife as his late arrival woke their five-month-old up, and they both had to leave church prematurely the next morning as he thought he was going to faint!

My mother is always a great source of material – whether the dog, Mr Smith, a notorious bassett hound, is up for an antisocial behaviour order after stealing someone’s lunch in a park or just an update on her amorous stalker from whom she hid in a neighbour’s garage last week – so I phoned her the other morning wanting an update from Dorset.

She pressed the button on her mobile accepting the call but all I could hear was a conversation she was having with another woman. “She’s tangled up,” my mother said. “She loves being tied up. Every morning I have to tie her up here but she always gets tangled up.” I felt like a voyeur and wondered why my 83-year-old mother was talking about some form of bondage... It transpired, however, that the dog had become tangled up in the dog lead after being tied up outside the local convenience store. Then came a slightly odd conversation about three new friends she had made while out walking – Bertie, Shirley and Wallace.

“Oh,” I said, “that’s nice, what are they like?” “Well,” my mother said, beginning a detailed description. “Shirley is rather large, she’s on a diet as the excess weight is getting in the way of her legs. Bertie has trouble walking long distances as he gets a stiff leg and Wallace likes a swim in the sea most days but he can’t go too far out as he could drown in deep water. “Shirley loves to be stroked but Bertie was disgraced recently for getting a little too familiar with a female under a table next to someone trying to eat a battered sausage.” “Oh” I said. “They sound like an interesting bunch, I’m glad you have met some new friends.” To which mother replied: “Bertie, Shirley and Wallace are bassett hounds.” Oh, the relief…!!