Capital! Capital! Cried Mr Toad…

The Willows Three suddenly found themselves on the move. A long trip down the motorway – and then there they were, being balanced for a photoshoot on the bottom of a wall. “Hurry up, I’m getting cold” moaned Mole, as Ang spent ages focussing here camera

“Look at that big red bus, I feel we are somewhere important” said Toad. And so they were…

All weekend, the three three found themselves in the company of thousands of Baptists – including the Great and Mighty Rev Jonathan Edwards,[he is nearly as tall as Bob] and the Small and Mighty Chris Duffett [he is nearly as small as Ang]

It was much more fun than they had anticipated, but by Sunday afternoon, they were feeling quite tired from all their travelling round the great Metropolis.

Not having Oyster cards of their own, they were forced to lurk in the dim recesses of Angela’s capacious handbag whenever she hopped on a bus. Then suddenly they were sitting comfortably again.

“Where are we, do you think?” said Ratty. They peered round the lovely chair where they’d been settled, to see such stunning decor!

Amazing frosted glass windows, chandeliers, a stained glass ceiling, and more. Victorian styling and paintings everywhere

“This looks like a high class gentleman's club”declared Mr Toad, with an air of Knowing About These Things. Ratty quietly pointed out that if that were so, why was Angela sitting in a capacious armchair, knitting furiously, only occasionally pausing to sip some orange juice? Surely women were not allowed in such Clubs?

It was then that they realised that they were not in a gentleman’s club, nor with the Baptists in Westminster – but rather in The Windsor Castle – a lavishly restored gin palace in Victoria! But it was wonderfully quiet and peaceful – apart from the Almonds [he tweeting, she knitting] and the barmaid [reading a book] there was but one other patron- and he was asleep beside his pint of beer. The five who had travelled down from Leicester relaxed for an hour, then returned to their meetings. But en route, another photo was taken…

Mr Toad was not at all amused by being forced to pose under the sign.

His earlier brushes with Her Majesty's Constabulary had not been happy ones.

Later, insult was added to injury back at Liz and Jon’s flat – our intrepid trio found themselves behind bars. But fortunately it was just part of a collection of bits of scrap wood which Bob was using to mend some furniture.

“I don’t like this very much” said Ratty “Don’t be silly – at least we are safe from that big ginger cat in here” Mole reminded him. The three friends settled down for the night, hoping they would be released in the morning.