I watched a rainbow appear in the distance beyond Stonehenge tonight. The traffic all slows down on that short stretch of the A303 as it reaches the top of the hill and slopes down Salisbury plain to reveal the stones, small and grey against the golden green grass. To those of us used to that journey, the pace is frustrating - there is no shortcut home and no way to overtake - and yet there are times when you can step back from your own immediate hurry to be somewhere and appreciate the sight. Tonight was one of those times.

The sunlight was casting a copper glow on the countryside, which seems to ripple up to the horizon, it's patchy browns, yellows and greens glowing gold in the fading sunlight. The sky was a brilliant hazy blue earlier today, but the black clouds rolled in after noon and, as the sun set, shafts of sunlight burst through angry clouds, which blushed in the reflected light. A thick band of colour rose up like smoke from the northeast, each tinted pink against the clouds. Drivers heading in the opposite direction, on their way to the West Country for the bank holiday weekend, held up their hands as shields against the rays and squinted. I turned the wing mirror away to deflect the light. Each blade of grass on the roadside had a distinct shadow.

Today I went to my new home for the second time. As my parents exclaimed in delight at the tiny, perfectly equipped kitchen and the spacious living room, I felt for a moment as if I were standing outside, peeking through the half-closed blinds at my life and smiling, just for a minute, because it seemed good; it seemed to be working. I wished Lori was there to see it too; it felt lonely, as if I was preparing to move into it alone. I realize how much I have come to depend on her company; on the constant conversation, sometimes without words, and on the mutual understandings of a day. Whenever I feel nervous about the move I realise the nerves are actually not mine; they're hers. It is a big step, to move across the world away from family and friends, let alone to start a postgraduate course in a system you've never experienced.

But I feel comfortable there, and I think she will too. I find it ironic that a dishwasher and a fan oven can do such wonders for nerves about Victorian literature and critical theory.

So now I'm balancing my time between furniture and literature. Tomorrow morning I will go horse riding (who is this new me?). I'll come home for lunch and then start reading again - perhaps some more Rise of the Novel, perhaps some History of Knowledge, or perhaps I'll start Portrait of a Lady. There are so many things on my to-read list that I can't quite keep up. I also think I might have to begin a "Recent Acquisitions" list in imitation of the Little Professor. I wish I could read books as fast as I buy them.

It's almost 1 a.m. and I have to be up early to go riding. I hope it's good weather tomorrow. Weather.co.uk says 10% chance of rain, so I should guess at about 60%, because, well, this is England.

I'm going to IKEA on Tuesday. Very exciting.

Good night, dear void. You must be feeling quite popular by now.