I think it was Vita Sackville-West who wrote of ‘autumn leaves moments’ – those visceral times of such great pleasure – that we get from trampling through a pile of autumn leaves whether we are five or seventy five.

This weekend autumn has arrived in the valley. The trees have turned a stunning copper yellow, vivid against the soft green of the hills and brilliant in a day of bright sunshine and sharp showers. My family came over for lunch and a walk.

Thoughts of autumn too, this evening, as I remember my dear, great friend Catriona Jardine Brown. We first met 20 years ago at University. Cat was one of the most talented, vivacious people I know; a marvellous artist, maker, illustrator and writer; funny, eccentric, deeply reliable. Yesterday afternoon, in fact at the moment that we were walking through the woods, she died from cancer, after a long and brave illness and a brief but sharp decline. She loved nothing more than trees and fallen leaves and walking through the autumnal hills. It is with trees that I will always think of her, and it is impossible to think that she has gone.

One of the more curious curiosities that Bridie gathered into the shop was a marvellous collection of Gnomes. At the end of the fortnight, they have all found new homes, but I suspect that none are going to be happier than a little chap who for some reason (I cannot think why) has been christened ‘Ben’ and moved last week to Wimbledon. We are told that he will be living within earshot of the All England Club and will be eating strawberries and cream every June.  Lucky Ben!

As it happens, a very handsome 19th century Gnome introduced our Cabinet of Curiosities to the world. For those that were not able to attend the opening, or to visit the shop, here are a few photographs by way of a record of the occasion (although the Cabinet does live on in our Curiosities department…)  Make sure that you spot the bust of Pitt the Younger, Ken Dodd’s tickle sticks, a private collection of sand lighthouses, and a giant tadpole along the way… and watch this space for even more weird and wonderful happenings in Autumn 2011.

On Sunday, we went for a walk across the valley to Top Parts. I don’t know that I have seen the air so clear, or the light so sharp on the autumn hills.  If people are not sure why I love Dorset, a day like this might explain it.

What a weekend. It’s been a hectic few days – following the wonderful cabinet opening (more will follow in a day or two) I was down to Dorset… where I think we had one of the most beautiful weekends of the year.

On Saturday, between Dorchester and the coast, we took the road past Waddon House, still, haunting, standing tall on the hillside, pale lichen-crusted Purbeck stone walls shining in the brilliant sunshine.

I think that Waddon may be the most perfect house in England. I have strong memories of it from my childhood when we lived not far away. Once a grand H-shaped Caroline house, fire destroyed the central bays and left hand wing, leaving this solitary, beautiful building which I think has one of the most perfectly proportioned facades I know, and is all the more poignant for being a fragment. It would be a wonderful building to measure.

Now, the central garden gate and its piers lead nowhere. A mysterious door in the basement is silent. Turning around, we look across salt misted hills down to the Fleet.  To our left, a beautiful barn… stone mullioned windows and thatch in quiet contrast to the tall sash windows, white painted cornice and stone quoins of the main house.

We stopped, and wondered, and felt we were in a dream.

Even better… it turns out you can stay at Waddon. If it wasn’t quite so close to home, I would be booking in now.

Why is there a photograph of Camilla Shand and Captain Parker Bowles on the wesbite all of a sudden?

No, not because we’ve turned into ‘The Monarchy of Britain.com’ (although of course, all of us at 17 Rugby Street are great believers in the august Institution)…

No. It’s because we may have a rather curious curiosity on display in the cabinet next week.  All being well.  A good friend of our good friend, Mr Peter Hone, is planning to display (look, don’t touch, and don’t even think of buying) the young Camilla Parker Bowles’s bikini.

It’s been a little damaged over the years by a certain Rothschild, who, not realising that it was merely for parade, wore the said costume as she went for a dip. Well, okay, the colours somewhat ran. But Bridie and I have decided that it would still merit display amongst the extraordinary collection that will be assembled in the shop next week.

Handsome chests of drawers in spare bedrooms are being rummaged through. The back of deep mahogany wardrobes are seeing the light of day for the first time in years. The problem is that our secret source cannot quite lay her hands on the bikini just yet. But we are confident… well, we are at least hoping… that it will be uncovered by Wednesday. And revealed in all its glory. Floreat Camilla!