[EDIT: you can read the stories from my progress across my map here.]

Summer is back, with a fury. The morning is hot, bright and blue. I love it, and I miss it having been continually in England for two years now. It is too early to speak of an ‘Indian summer’ (in fact this year, these few days of warm sunshine probably constitute ‘summer’ full stop.) But it’s certainly not too early for me to meander off into a Google search about Indian summers…

An Indian summer is a name often used to describe a warm, calm spell of weather that occurs in autumn. The Met Office Meteorological Glossary first published in 1916, defines an Indian summer as ‘a warm, calm spell of weather occurring in autumn, especially in October and November.’ The exact origins of the phrase are uncertain, several writers have speculated it may originally have referred to a spell of warm, hazy autumn conditions that allowed Native American Indians to continue hunting. Whatever the origin of the phrase, it evidently first was used in the eastern United States. The first recorded use of the phrase appears in a letter written by a Frenchman called John de Crevecoeur dated 17 January 1778. In his description of the Mohawk country he writes “Sometimes the rain is followed by an interval of calm and warm which is called the Indian summer.”

The term was first used in the UK in the early 19th century and went on to gain widespread usage. The concept of a warm autumn spell though was not new to the UK. Previously, variations of “Saint Martin’s summer” were widely used across Europe to describe warm weather surrounding St Martin’s Day (11 November).

I spent a little time, as I so often seem to do on this map, cycling around streets of ordinary but not very exciting homes. I’m no expert* but, to my eye, old English buildings are things of beauty and a great asset to our country and our countryside. But, with not very many exceptions, those built in last 100 years are unremarkable. I say that as someone who lives in a 1980s house myself. And I say ‘unremarkable’ as someone who has spent ten months trying to remark on everything I see but no longer have any remarks to say.

It seems to me that too many of our streets and towns built in the last century are ugly, uninspiring, un-uplifting, and boring. (“Poll after poll suggests we prefer the homes built before planning really began with the 1947 Planning Act, not those that came after,” Housing Secretary Robert Jenrick said in a July speech to the Policy Exchange think tank.) Apart from keeping the rain off when we go to sleep and offering many places for us to park our many cars – to the detriment of green space, they don’t seem to fulfil many of the remits of what you’d hope for from a community. Somewhat snootishly I’ve always considered the suburbs of European towns, the French arrondissements and the Soviet Khrushchyovka apartment blocks I’ve cycled or walked through to be drab, repetitive and a bit depressing. Little that I have seen on my map suggests that Britain has done much better. Although I should add that the brand new town I stumbled upon the day I saw my first swifts of the year seems to have done a much better job, so perhaps we have turned a corner. (In the eternal battle between front lawns and our love of the car, it seems, the automobile is winning. And, in a strange paradox, supposedly green electric cars are killing off more front gardens than ever, with eco-conscious drivers needing to park close to their front door in order to keep their motor charged.)

The Government has committed to delivering 300,000 homes a year across England by the mid 2020s and seem to be trying to alleviate the housing crisis without wreaking aesthetic destruction on our towns, cities and countryside. But it raises many questions: why did housing get so ugly? How do we define beauty? Will the new rules lead to naff pastiche, glorious neo-traditionalism, or just a continuation of the status quo? Was Prince Charles right when, back in 1984, he castigated modern architecture and called for a return to traditional building styles? “The Government correctly believes that the ugliness of new development is one major reason why people oppose it,” says Dr Samuel Hughes, a senior fellow at Policy Exchange.

As I cycled from street to street, the homes became noticeably larger, grander and more spaced out. From basic council terraces, to young families of commuters, to Waitrose delivery vans and willow trees. There is such a clear differentiation of wealth in this country, visible here in the varying standards of housing. I suspect there is a correlation too between the health and longevity of these streets. I find myself wondering though if there is a corresponding link (or an inverse one) with important life measures like happiness?

Research suggests that while our genes and personality influence about 50 per cent of how happy we feel, the balance is influenced by our health, employment and relationships. Countless studies have tried to determine whether there is a link between how much people earn and their happiness. The consensus seems to be that the amount of income does matter, but only to a certain extent — to afford a “comfortable” lifestyle. Beyond this, happiness seems to plateau. Yet happiness is also linked to how much people save.

The happiest 10 per cent of people lived in households with surplus monthly income of £841 per month, about £28 per day. So could you be happier if you spent less, and saved more? The average UK household surplus income is just under £15 per day. Reducing other household spending by £13 a day would generate enough of a surplus to put the average household in the happiest category. How much we earn relative to our peers seems to have more of a bearing of how satisfied we are with life. Even if you have enough income to lead your definition of a nice life, knowing that your colleague is earning more than you is likely to put a dent in your happiness.

Some years ago, gardeners and florists were found to be the happiest occupations, whereas bankers and IT workers were found to be the least happy. And never forget the value of greater autonomy — self-employed people have also been found to have higher levels of happiness than employed workers. Whether you love your job or get your satisfaction from activities outside work, the cumulative value of all your future income from working represents a very valuable asset — your human capital — which is derived from your resources such as time, energy, knowledge, skills, health and relationships.

Perhaps the most important thing you can do is to make sure that your lifestyle expenditure rises at a lower rate than your income. The reason why many people are not able to convert enough of their human capital into financial capital is that they get sucked into the marketing myth that to be happy you need to spend money now, rather than saving and investing it for later.

If you have good health, do work that you enjoy and have a handful of close personal relationships, the chances are you will be very happy indeed and live to a ripe old age. 

I’m in a chipper mood as I ride away from the village in search of countryside. There’s no doubt that a warm sunny day lifts my mood. The morning sun feels hot against my dark t-shirt. I pull my cap down to give my eyes a little more shade. Overall, people who live in warmer climates are more satisfied with life than people who live in colder climates. People who live in sunnier climates are more satisfied with life than those who live in cloudier climates. So, the overall weather in a region does seem to be related to life satisfaction. Of course, there are many possible reasons for that. It is easier to exercise when it is warm and sunny than when it is cold and rainy, so perhaps people who live in warm climates get more physical activity than those who live in cold climates. Second, we often assume that specific factors will have a greater influence on our overall well-being than they actually do. In fact, although those factors did have a short-term influence on people’s well-being, they did not have a long-term influence on judgments of life satisfaction. That is our overall level of life satisfaction is governed by many factors, and it is hard to predict how any factor will affect us. Ultimately, we have to realise that the best predictor of how satisfied we are going to be with our lives tomorrow, six months from now, or next year is how satisfied we are with our lives today.

A car accelerates past me as I leave the restricted 30 mph zone of the village. Speed limits have evolved over time as societies have set different priorities for their road system. In the UK the Locomotives Act 1865 introduced a 4 mph speed limits for motorised vehicles on open roads and 2 mph in towns. These were raised to 14 mph in 1896. The law in 1878 abolished the requirement for mechanical vehicles on public highways to be preceded by a man on foot. The general speed limit was raised to 20 mph in 1903, but as cars’ performance improved this was widely ignored. After much debate the Road Traffic Act 1930 abolished the speed limit but it was restored at 30 mph on built-up roads in 1935. After a trial on motorways started in 1965, the Road Traffic Regulation Act 1967 established the present limits of 70 mph for motorways (reduced to 50 mph between November 1973 and April 1974 to save fuel). The current limits of 70 mph on both motorways and dual carriageways and 60 mph for rural single carriageways were introduced in 1977. 

Since the decline of piracy, various military units have used the Jolly Roger, usually in skull-and-crossbones design, as a unit identification insignia or a victory flag to ascribe to themselves the proverbial ferocity and toughness of pirates. Admiral Sir Arthur Wilson VC, the Controller of the Royal Navy, summed up the opinion of the many in the Admiralty at the time when in 1901 he said submarines were “underhand, unfair, and damned un-English. … treat all submarines as pirates in wartime … and hang all crews.” In response, Lieutenant Commander Max Horton first flew the Jolly Roger on return to port after sinking the German cruiser SMS Hela and the destroyer SMS S-116 in 1914 while in command of the E class submarine HMS E9.

In World War II it became common practice for the submarines of the Royal Navy to fly the Jolly Roger on completion of a successful combat mission where some action had taken place, but as an indicator of bravado and stealth rather than of lawlessness. The Jolly Roger is now the emblem of the Royal Navy Submarine Service.

I paused along the path to feast on blackberries. It was a popular footpath so most of the low hanging fruit had already gone. But the benefit of being above average height meant that I was able to reach up and enjoy the higher fruit. By standing on the pedals of my bike in a trackstand, I was able to reach even higher. On the oak tree nearby I notice the acorns beginning to grow and swell.

Breakfast over, I crossed the railway lines on one of those rural footpath crossings where you have to walk over the actual tracks. These always make me mildly uneasy. On the other side a kestrel was busy hunting for its own breakfast, hovering over a field in a picture of taut, poised concentration. Blackthorn hedges, frothy with clouds of white flowers back in the spring, are now heavy with ripening sloes. A chiffchaff chirps from the spiky sanctuary. The number of sloes you will find on a blackthorn bush or tree each year is very much linked to the weather during the previous spring and summer. Too dry and the sloes will be small and shrivelled. Too wet and cold and they will not develop at all. A good crop of plump, well-ripened sloes needs the perfect balance of warmth and water. Sloes are in the same family as plums and cherries so if you’re brave you can eat them raw, though they are incredibly sharp and will dry your mouth out before you even finish your first one. If you’re picking them for sloe gin then traditionally you wait until after the first frost. These days, there’s no reason why you can’t pick them earlier, bag them up and pop them in your freezer to mimic that first frost. The theory behind this is that the frost splits the skins so the juices can flow into your gin without you having to go to the effort of pricking all the berries.

* Most of my enjoyment from this year’s exploration has come from embracing not being an expert on anything much but still learning what I can and venturing an opinion on whatever crosses my path.