A beautiful day, so me and Graham headed to Blenheim.

Last time we went there was a charity swimming event in the lake - today it was a half marathon. It seems Blenheim is conspiring to make us feel unfit.

We started with a coffee (I accidentally gave myself a mocha dip-dye), then had a walk (the wrong way along the marathon route), stopped for a picnic (out of sight of the runners, we're not that mean), then lounged in the sun by the lake. We bumped into Zoe and Ollie at the palace, then did the tour of the house. The first half was fine: lots of grand rooms and Churchill memorabilia. The second half was a terrifying journey through a series of rooms with talking, moving wax models. The doors were automated to be in time with the tour too, so I couldn't even just rush through. I felt emotionally drained afterwards.

San Pellegrino, then home to a jogging Francis and a soup-making-Beatle-singing Jon.

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