One guidebook describes Cookham as “sitting smugly” on the river. Well, we too were sitting smugly on the river last week, ensconced at the perfect mooring along Bell Rope Meadow: a gentle stretch of tree-shaded lawn dotted with benches, just before the blue bridge. So, when the sunburnt lady from the local council demanded £18 for three nights, we cheerfully handed it over.

Rowing teams, both boy and girl, flitted by with practised ease, sometimes (though not always, fortunately) pursued by a coach on a skiff with a noisy megaphone. All sorts of people came down to enjoy a picnic lunch, parade their infants, walk their dogs or admire the line-up of seven or eight boats; others were just on their way for a drink or a meal at The Ferry, located immediately after the bridge.

Biking around Cookham

Finally, we got out and actually rode our new Brompton bikes. Here’s where I have to admit I was wrong: I thought they’d be expensive toys that we wouldn’t use, and therefore a waste of money. Now I can see they’re going to be extremely useful, especially as Roy dislikes walking, but doesn’t mind getting on to a bike – especially if it means avoiding a walk.

Our first foray was around the beautiful old Cookham Churchyard (me respectfully trying neither to swear at the new bike on such hallowed ground, nor to wobble into the venerable tombstones). Then we headed into the village and along the narrow high street. From there, Roy followed his nose – mine having absolutely no sense of direction – to a path leading to the weir and Cookham Lock. Cookham Lock is exceptionally lovely, as the friendly lock-keeper agrees: “Just a pity the boats come along to spoil the peace and quiet.”

Our second was to forage for sustenance: first at a Londi’s superette, and then at the delightful little French deli near Cookham Station for a baguette (Honorine, sourdough and beautiful; remember the name), a stack of mountain-dried ham and some saucisson sec – plus a glass of chilled white wine on the house. Urged on (nay, nagged) by Roy, I attempted to practise my halting French on the man behind the counter, but he was having none of it. Deciding that he was probably trying to practise his English, I did my best not to take it personally.

After three nights in Cookham, we moored overnight near Temple Island, a few kilometres from Henley-on-Thames, and cycled into town for a couple of sangrias at Hotel du Vin. Despite the bumpiness of the path in places, the fading of the light and the potency of the sangrias, we made it back safely, apart from a little short-term damage to the bits that connect with the bicycle seat. So, I think we now declare the bikes a success.

Towpath walk to Boulter’s Lock

One extra day in a place can make all the difference. As we’d decided not to go further downstream this time – to Eton and Windsor, say – I set off solo to find the towpath to Boulter’s Lock, one down from Cookham. Find it I did, and followed it along the Cliveden stretch, deservedly described as the most beautiful part of the Thames – river wilderness to one side, pastoral idyll to the other.

The lock is unusually situated between a road and a river island with a restaurant; a cute bridge links the two. Parched by now, I couldn’t wait to buy an ice cream from the Italian mama presiding over the ice-cream stall.

Stanley Spencer Gallery

Just a five-minute walk from Cookham Bridge is this picturesque art gallery. Built in 1846 as a Wesleyan Chapel, it is now named after one of Britain’s most famous artists and currently exhibiting a special collection of his works. Spencer (1891-1959) was a son of Cookham, and had a special affinity with the place. Though it’s not his most spectacular work, I especially like View from Cookham Bridge, because it looks down past the little white Ferry House and along to Karanja’s mooring on Bell Rope Meadow.

Granted, we have the luxury of time. But the longer you spend in a place like Cookham – or anywhere else, for that matter – the better you’re going to get to know it, to appreciate it, to absorb its special charm and to remember it.