This is an outstanding book which contains beautifully written and often touching vignettes of the author's life. It made me laugh out loud and also brought tears to my eyes more than once.

I highly recommend it.

James Lees-Milne was the 20th century's greatest diarist. Less well known today are his huge and diverse collection of other works, which range from novels to architectural criticism to biography. It is surprising to me that a. Reggie Esher wasn't arrested and locked away forever, or b. at least socially ostracized, and c. that many people in British society ever spoke to the author of his biography again. The "enigma" of Esher was his bizarre combination of out and out (and I do mean pretty much "out") bizarre sexual interests combined with a broad and almost unfathomable influence in society and politics. Lees-Milne, as always, writes beautifully, but one is even more in awe of his courage in choosing to write such an honest book rather than the somewhat hagiographical biographies of members of great families which pass for biography in the upper strata UK life today. Mind you, James would have never written as bluntly about Debo and Andrew Devonshire.

This volume, the sixth of James Lees-Milnes' incomparable diaries, confirms his undeservedly minor reputation as one of the best diarists of the second half of the twentieth century. Covering 1973 and 1974 he records life with his wife Alvilde, both then in their early sixties. Although he had retired from the National Trust and they were based at Alderley Grange, their comfortable house and garden in Gloucestershire, Lees-Milne continues to visit London and a variety of country houses; but now as a friend of the owners (and occasionally as a celebrated expert). Alvilde was a formidable, cultivated, socially gregarious character who widened her husband's already wide circle of smart and aristocratic friends and acquaintances. Ancient family retainers, old neighbours, dukes, duchesses, and members of the Royal Family are encountered and keenly observed. Jeremy Paxman described the early wartime diaries as "suffused with the aroma of decline" but with many of those crumbling houses saved, it is now his friends who are ailing, along with Dutch elms throughout the country, and (in his reactionary eyes) the country itself which he sees as riven by socialism, strikes and IRA bombs. He deplores beards and flares, bad manners and most of all philistines but he manages to do so without appearing especially priggish or prim. His style has been described as "purple-ish mandarin" but the elegant combination of self-irony, detachment, modesty and waspishness (and none of the tact he displayed to his hosts) makes for compelling reading. Like any good diarist he reveals as much of himself as others. His prejudices are predictable and sharply expressed but not unexpected for someone of his class and generation. He regarded political correctness as deceitful and admitted to being an unashamed elitist. In the canon of twentieth century diarists, James Lees-Milne shines brightest. While Sir Henry 'Chips' Channon lustrously captured the glamorous centre of political and aristocratic world of London in the thirties and forties, his conceit and lack of personal candour leave him a somewhat unsympathetic figure. Cecil Beaton's diaries are full of vivid descriptions and fascinating insights into an equally glamorous but wider world than Chips Channon's but again they tend to lack the personal touch. Evelyn Waugh's diaries are brilliantly readable but as they were invariably written at night after he had eaten and drunk well, they lack the sparkle of his letters (which were usually written in the morning). The only other diarist with whom he might be compared is Frances Partridge, the very last of the Bloomsberries. The worlds of these two diarists occasionally intersect but Mrs Partridge's is more confined and, given her sympathetic and tolerant nature, her life and thus her diaries are all too often peopled by bores. James Lees-Milne died in 1997, aged 89, and so his readers can hope for another two decades of diaries to follow Ancient as the Hills. Mark McGinness

Although the later volumes of James Lees-Milne's diaries have been criticised for showing him as somewhat misanthropic and decidedly politically-incorrect individual, there is much of interest in this latest volume. It may lack the enthralling spectacles of the early volumes (particularly those during and immediately after the Second World War)but 'Through Wood and Dale'does have some wonderful moments. For those who enjoy Lees-Milne, these later volumes of diaries have one distinct advantage: we learn much more about the man himself. This volume sees him rage against the Labour government and the general decline in society but still combines wonderful moments of frustration and anger (as often as not directed at his neighbours the Duke and Duchess of Beaufort).

For admirers of Jim Lees-Milne this is book is compulsive; for those yet to experience his writing, this could be a welcome introduction.