Two mornings of early trips to the railway station to drop off the young master. Dogs are bundled into the boot and we then walk down at Hamadryad Park, on Clarence Embankment. At 7 a.m. it is peaceful and very attractive. I like the river, there are often early morning rowing teams out, and a wide selection of birds, including cormorants, gulls and swans. You can see both the Millennium Stadium and the Millennium Centre, St Davids Hotel, and close by, Century Wharf. We rented a flat there very happily for a while when we were househunting in Cardiff. We loved being so close to all the attractions of the Bay, it was wonderful to be able to stroll out and have such a variety of bars and restaurants on the doorstep. The development itself was very peaceful and secure, although there was the most horrendous noise every morning from the entire urban gull population which roosted nearby on a set of factory roofs, and decided to start an enthusiastic dawn chorus at 5 a.m. every day. Each morning we'd groan and wish for an Uzi.

In the park, I'm particularly struck by the abundance of wild flowers - very attractive at this time of the year. After our trot round the park, with an occasional squirrel sighting for Andy, it's back in the car, and back past County Hall to return home, for an eight o'clock breakfast, for woofs and for me. Then a brisk couple of hours attacking the housework, followed by an encroachment (but not a full invasion!) into the ironing. When domestic duties are completed, a refreshing shower, lunch and then a peaceful afternoon with my cross stitch, accompanied by two snoozing hounds. Booty prefers an upstairs bed, where she can rest her little head on a pillow, and get some serious power-napping done. Andy likes to keep an eye on me , just in case I suddenly feel the urge to throw cheese at him or leave a steak lying around the kitchen. Young master not too late tonight - prawn curry though he had to miss out on the poppodums, on account of his war wound, which is healing nicely.

A relaxed evening with a bottle of wine, watching Barefoot Contessa (like her cooking style), my evening dose of the Tour and then an episode of Lewis, which I must admit seems to be streets better than Morse. Tomorrow the Tour will be decided by the time trial - there is still only a matter of seconds in it, and some particularly strong riders. Unusually, I don't have a strong personal favourite, although it would be nice to see Frank Schleck get it, or Carlos Sastre. Somehow, I have enormous respect for Cadel Evans, but find it difficult to root for him. This year it's been a really close race all the way through, although there hasn't been the high drama of last year's race with Vino, or even the year before with Floyd Landis, who did that extraordinary chase back to regain time, won and then was discovered to test positive. Quite operatic in its intensity and excitement. I love it.