Home is wherever I hang my hat.

Miriam Margolyes defined home as where she hung her hat, and perhaps when Dunn’s Barn has been built, and there’s somewhere to hang my favourite hat, I’ll feel the same way. But I was taken by surprise by someone else’s hat the other day.

I had stopped at Dunn’s Barn on my way home from Saxmundham, to see how much progress had been made on fitting the timber infill to the steel frame and was just re-fastening the harris fencing to leave when a land rover pulled out and an old guy came across and said ‘hello Robert, how are you?’

He had a beanie hat pulled down to his eyes and only when he removed it, did I recognise him as Tony Readhead, a local farmer and friend of my father-in-law I’ve known for years. He was interested in what we are doing and come to take a look, so I showed him round.

My late father had been his bank manager, and he told me how they had spent several hours together re-working the figures he was presenting to the bank when he wanted to buy more land. Only when confident that the loan would be approved, did my father agree to submit the application to his local directors.

I’m rather enjoying the way these chance meetings unlock memories from my past.