L'Ortolan, shotguns, rivers and roses combine for birthday and anniversary fun

The planning paid off.

Early last year, when we looked at possible dates for our wedding anniversary, my birthday popped out on top.  He was less likely to forget either if they were linked, went the joke.  More seriously, I thought that bringing them together gave us an excuse for bigger festivities.  Exciting weekends and celebratory trips.  A year on, and the combo of first anniversary and 40-somethingth birthday validates my choice.

We started out at our local Michelin star restaurant (10 miles up the road, just outside Reading).  We'd been impressed by L'Ortolan on our first visit earlier in the year and wanted to give it another go.  But, clearly, the price tag necessitated a special event.

We discovered a second dining room, in a conservatory off the main one.  I'd found the look of the place a bit boring in January, but this room is lovely, with fairy lights behind gauzy curtains in the glass ceiling and a view to the garden beyond.  Make a point of requesting seating here.  The eight-course gourmand menu with matching wine flight was a necessity, of course.

All was up to expectation.  Exquisite flavours, beautifully balanced and artistically presented.  Highlights included the innovative beetroot meringue and the horseradish ice cream that went with grilled mackerel (though we thought we needed a bit more fish); melt-in-your-mouth lamb with the poshest grilled sweetcorn I've ever seen; and a combo of lemon curd, crispy meringue, raspberry sorbet and pickled raspberries that made me forget my normal opinion that chocolate is required for a proper dessert.  While the style is generally traditional European there are takes from other cultures, like that corn (hints of American BBQ) and a fish course of brill with crispy chicken wing, curried lentils, coconut and pickles that had clear roots in Asia.  The wine flight offered numerous memorable tastes (we're still waiting for them to email us the list) and was unusually generous; a very full glass with each course, poured by a gregarious and informative sommelier, for an additional £40.

Mid-meal an enormous bouquet turned up at the table.  My wonderful husband had sent a photo of my bridal bouquet to the local florists, who used it for inspiration, picking up the scabious, lilies and roses I'd carried down the aisle.  A fine indication of the pleasures to come, as he'd done the planning for the weekend.

The next morning we were booked at the Spitfire Shoot for an hour's lesson.  The weather was exquisite, making the 40-minute drive deeper into Hampshire a joy in itself.  Blue skies, undulating hills  zig-zagged by lines of vivid green trees, the rich gold of just-harvested fields dotted with piles of hay bales.  The shoot ... the equivalent of a golf driving range for shotgun-wielders ... sits in a deep valley.  A path winds down its centre, with offshoots to different hides branching off it.  Targets at each stand mimic a different kind of animal movement.  Here, a pheasant being driven towards you.  There, a startled bird flying away.   Next, rabbits fleeing across a chalk escarpment.  Not real animals, of course, but clays fired out of machines.  All to help you practice for the real hunting.  I fear that I'm unlikely to bring home dinner any time soon with my own gun, but this outing suggested I'd have most luck bagging a bunny.  Pigeons, evidently, will be quite safe from my aim.  Piers, true to his military heritage, blew things to dust at all stands.

On to Mottisfont Abbey for a late morning walk.  This National Trust property features a lovely brick and stone mansion sitting behind a deep lawn along the River Test.  It's best known, however, for the walled garden on the hill above the house, and most particularly for its roses.  May and June, therefore, are its best months, but many of the roses were in a secondary autumnal blooming, clematis and penstemons were out and the buddleias were covered with butterflies.

The pleasing ramble worked up an appetite for lunch, which took place further up the Test at the Mayfly pub.  Its long riverside garden is its best feature.  The food and drink aren't worth going out of your way for, but the view certainly is.  We sat in warm sunshine, watching the light sparkle off the racing water as ducks and swans glided by and the bullrushes danced on the far shore.  Datchet, out for the day with us, was entranced.  But no amount of pulling at his lead was going to get those birds any closer.

Back home, I had indulgent time to make myself my own birthday cake (chocolate, iced with white chocolate ganache) and retreat to a hot bath laced with oils of violet and honeysuckle, a glass of champagne in hand and the latest issue of Country Life for entertainment.  Piers whipped up dinner (spinach, bacon and nectarine salad) from the pork-focused cookbook I'd given him for our anniversary.

Memorable, indulgent, variety-strewn and calming.  A combined celebration of another year of life and the joy of being together.  And, frankly, a glass raised to our hopes for the next year.  Cancer, job changes and the trials of selling and buying houses made the first 12 months of marriage less of an easy ride than it was supposed to be.  Here's to an extended honeymoon through year two.  We deserve it.