A book for the beach: August Folly by Angela Thirkell

Village cricket and amateur dramatics are the closest this 1930s novel of the upper middle class at play comes to tension, but it is a sunny treat

If, like me, horror is your reaction to lying on a beach with sand in all your crevices and wobbly bits on display as you attract the attentions the local insect population, then you need a seaside read to take you away from your current hell.

Angela Thirkell's August Folly instantly transports me to a golden summer day between the wars. It's not too hot, perfect cardigan weather, and on a verdant lawn that undulates down to a brook, beautiful young people in spotless white outfits play croquet until the gong signals that its time to dress for dinner. It's that kind of novel.

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