The Saturday when Summer came to stay, we had breakfast at the cottage and then drove an hour and quarter north to the Cotswolds. There, by the River Windrush we dipped our toes and watched the signets and the minutes tick by.

A gentleman and his wife came by. He took out a pencil and a notebook from a small canvas bag, squatted down and started sketching – the bridge, the water, the tourists, the Cotswolds. He didn’t look at us. We didn’t take much notice either. The signets went to the far end, turned around and passed us again, the minutes ticked away and we finished our ice creams.

Suddenly there was a soft, tentative whisper behind us. We turned to see the wife in a light sun hat smiling through clear glasses. ‘Where are you from?’ ‘Here, Wiltshire and India.’ Her eyes widened. She pointed towards herself and said, ‘Japan’. After that, our conversation flowed, much like the Windrush. She had little English, we had non existent Japanese and yet the conversation flowed. She pointed out my friend, Nabs and me and said, ‘Sistahs’. We smiled and replied, ‘Almost’.

She showed us her husband’s sketchbook, the other one, the completed works – pagodas, grandchildren, himself, more grandchildren and himself in front of pagodas, waterwheels. They were beautiful. We marvelled. She showed on, her eyes wide with pride. At this point Rony, our other friend said three words in Japanese. This time she marvelled, ‘Very good. You very good.’ Rony giggled, ‘I Googled’.

Some more conversation flowed, Japanese cinema, their holiday in London, the beautiful summer weather, the gorgeous country of Japan which someday we hoped to visit. And then we got up. I extended my hand to take her’s and said, ‘It was lovely meeting you. Would you mind posing for my phone?’ She smiled readily, twisted the brim of her sun hat and touched her face in a practiced pose. Her husband finished sketching, took a few quick pictures on his iPad, we dried our feet, the boys tied their shoelaces and finally we said our goodbyes. Neither of us asked for names. The wife and the husband smiled some more, bowed, touched their hats and then walked away. We walked too, towards the pub. It was a brief encounter by the Windrush on the Saturday when Summer came to stay.

Burton-on-the-water, June 2017