One of the enduring impressions I get when wondering around the gardens of Calke Abbey is that I am in a recreation of the garden out of Peter Rabbit.  Yesterday was not an exception.  The sun was shining, the chill north wind was a only slightly bothersome, and once you were inside the walled gardens it dropped away to almost nothing. Suddenly for a few short moments it was almost paradise.  To complete the cliche of an english country garden in the largest of the of the walled enclosures young lambs played whilst their mothers rested and recovered from the ordeal of giving birth.   Everything was right with the world – including the cream tea which was obligatory after such exertions!