This morning I woke in the slightly unpleasant environment of a hot and clammy tent. Unpleasant this may be, but it is also a very positive sign of good weather ahead. Sure enough, at 7 o’clock it was already hotting up outside so I thought I better get my run out of the way. Given the temperature, the sunshine and, most importantly, the fact that no one knows me round here, I decided that this should be the maiden voyage for my running shorts.

It was quite pleasant feeling the breeze on the extra inches of exposed thigh, but the swishing of the fabric and the net knickers arrangement may take some getting used to. Reports of several sheep being blinded by the whites of my legs have yet to be confirmed.

Last night the rain came. Nothing torrential, just enough to keep you awake for a bit before wrapping yourself a little more snugly in your sleeping bag and drifting off again. Rain always sounds louder in a tent. Sheep also sound louder in a tent. We are surrounded by sheep, some are woolly, some have been sheared, all look slightly bemused at the sight of people in running kit. Having said that, so do most people on the campsite.

This morning was a 2 mile loop round the farm.

I was reassured to wake up to the sound of donkey o’clock (when one of our neighbours gets his breakfast and eeyores in gratitude) and eventually hauled myself out for a country lane 3 miles.

Even though I’ve brought my Shuffle, it will remain largely unused as most of the lanes round here are single tracks with no pavements. There is just a painted white line keeping me from certain death by tractor.

The first half mile was a bit heavy legged, but the rest was fine and I returned to the tent where I was handed a glass of Vimto by a well-trained Ginge.

In true camping tradition, our first breakfast was bacon butties and a mug of tea.