So we did go and see Bob Dylan after all. For free. It was very pleasant, of course, we didn't see him, but we could hear him mumble and croak quite clearly there on our blanket under the trees, with all the other grey-haired hippies, watching the boats going by on the river, sipping tea and white wine, nibbling on the last of the Swiss chocs R had brought back from Zurich last week. The sun was slowly setting somewhere behind us and when it was over the sky was pink and gorgeous.
As always when his holidays start, R went mad in the garden with the resulting back pain. Doesn't stop him, he walks with a stoop like Riff Raff from the Rocky Horror Picture Show and is now trimming the hedge, all 47 m of it, on a ladder.