The idea was that I'd get up early and go for a run this morning. However, I woke up at 10.00 by which time it was too late since my Dad and Sally were coming over to pick me up for a drive in the country. From having no family in my daily life, I'm suddenly getting used to having a profusion of family. While still waking up this morning, I talked to my brother Neil on the phone, followed by Sally, before having a cup of coffee with my other sister Kirstie.

The big question in the family is has my brother Neil really changed for the better. According to my Dad and my sisters, he's become more interested in the rest of them, and more attentive and responsible to my Mam's care. I'm still undecided. I'm so used to thinking that Neil's every action revolves around himself, that I can't help being skeptical about the new Neil. Admittedly, though, he seemed a lot more personable and involved on the phone with me than I remembered previously.

I thoroughly enjoy my Dad's company. We drove to nearby old Hatfield, a quaint, ancient village with a stately house belonging to the Marquess of Salisbury. It's claim to fame is that it was bought by Henry VIII and this is where Elizabeth was living when she was informed that Queen Mary was dead and that she was to be crowned Elizabeth I.

The old palace, the oldest part of Hatfield House

In front of a stone frieze showing Queen Elizabeth and her court. In the frieze, the Queen has lost one of her hands (somebody must have knocked it off over the centuries), and seems to be looking at it as if wondering where it's gone.

Water lilies in a brief rain shower. The rain coincided with the ringing of churh bells, one of my favorite sounds in England. Each bell-puller pulls at their own bell, and so the bells each ring at their own rate producing this beautiful chaos.

A digitally modified photo of the countryside and sky during my evening run.

After our drive in the countryside, I went for a run. It was a beautiful early evening, and I soon got away from the road, turning down a bridlepath, one of tens of thousands of public paths across private lands that English common-law requires landholders to maintain for public access, so that Brits can practice their inalienable right to "ramble".