Stately

We went to Leith Hill, the highest point in the southeast, followed by National Trust property Polesden Lacey today (no pics as my camera batteries ran out, annoyingly). According to what I've just read, it was on the summit of Leith Hill in 851 that Ethelwulf, father of Alfred the Great, defeated the Danes who were heading to Winchester, having had their way in Canterbury and London. The day was windy and sharply sunny, progressively colder as the hours passed. Hail, sleet and snow all feel in small amounts by 4pm but it's just cold now. No snow, yet.

The view from the top of the Leith Hill tower was good – you could almost make out the jagged tops of the buildings at Canary Wharf, the smooth curve of the Wembley arch, and possibly the sea. On a clearer day, these would have appeared more distinct, no doubt. It was very windy and I was glad of my hat. Also, I was almost sick on the walk up, perhaps because of the medicine, I'm not really sure.

Polesden Lacey had an inviting atmosphere, unlike some NT stately homes that can seem somewhat austere. It felt warm, possibly helped by the deep brown wooden panels and sumptuous, plush crimson drapes, and when the NT volunteer wound up the gramophone, you could close your eyes and feel as though time had stopped. The rooms – visited by the late King George VI and his Queen during their honeymoon – would have been filled with ladies and gentlemen dressed exquisitely, every detail of their clothing attended to and properly arranged. The dining room and the drawing room (well, the one with the large chandelier) struck me especially in terms of their beauty. Pictures of people long gone decorated walls and sideboards – people with straight backs and no-nonsense values. The place had just opened today after its winter cleaning recess, and the efforts were not unnoticed. Every colour was bright and the surfaces shone. When the weather is warmer we'll visit the gardens.

On arriving back home at 4.30pm, I lay down on the bed and fell asleep for four hours. S came in at one point and whispered that the Pakistani team's cricket coach, Bob Woolmer, had been found dead, but this sad news seemed simply like part of a surreal dream at the time. I was surprised to see the time when I finally did wake.

Closer to home – inside it in fact – the rabbits have forged a strong bond. They snuggle and follow one another around. It is wonderful to watch. Yesterday, I tried to get hold of the younger bun to groom her but she raced to her companion's side and sat there, pressing her soft pale body into that of the black, silky rex who proceeded to growl – yes, growl – when I tried to get hold of her lagomorph best friend.