Today's the day when the reality of two weeks with my family set in. Until now it's been a pleasure, but today, on a day where I decided to take it easy and try to do some writing, I realize that I've overestimated my ability to live the quiet life.

There's always been something about suburban life that I've found depressing. A distinct ennui began this morning when I went shopping for groceries at Safeways. Everybody looked pale and worried, in that fixed hangdog way of middle England, and the sky was overcast. And babies everywhere, being pulled, carried or wheeled by anxious parents. This is real life, I suppose.

In the afternoon, I set off to find some places where I could sit and write. I started off at a cafe on the main shopping street in St Albans. It actually wasn't too bad; decent coffee, and a pleasant environment open to the air through big windows. Funnily enough, I looked up and there was my Dad and Kirstie passing by, heading for home to take the dog for a walk.

After a while, I took a walk down to the big park behind St Albans Abbey. By now the sun had come out, albeit intermittently, so I sat under a big tree. But the air had become a soup of tiny greenfly and other insects, and the park wasn't even that peaceful since a rock band were performing an open-air concert. And kids everywhere, yelling and screaming. I just wasn't meant to be in suburbia I guess.

Looks idyllic, doesn't it?

My options for the evenings are even more narrow. The cafe closes in the early evening, so the only place I have to write in at night is my tiny little bedroom upstairs. And I know that my sister will think me weird and anti-social if I retire there each evening. I wasn't actually intending to write in the evenings anyway; I'd presumed I'd spend them with Kirstie and her boyfriend. But Kirstie is going to visit some of her girlfriends tonight, so it's just me and Paul. I guess my family has gotten used to me in just a few short days.

I did go over to my Dad's bungalow to keep him company for a while. I wasn't sure what we'd talk about, though. I enjoy going out with him, because he's always intrigued by his surroundings, and we can chatter quite amiably about history and nature, and the sights we see. But left alone inside in his company, those are untested grounds. Maybe he felt the same thing, because he put on a documentary video about the Northumberland coastline, which gave us plenty enough to talk about until it was time for me to go back to Kirstie's.

Now it's 8.00 p.m. and I can hear Paul in the garden below, where he's been pottering about since before noon. He's one of those indefagitable home-makers you find in suburbia. At the moment he's installing garden lighting. I like their place right now, but I almost dread seeing how over-developed the garden could be next time I visit England. Anyway, it's time for me to put on my social hat again and go down and cook some dinner. Tomorrow I'm getting out of suburbia for a couple of days when I go stay with my brother and his boyfriend in London. From the frying pan into the fire.