I've spent the last few days popping here and there through my part of West Sussex the countryside, in the car, with the camera, to photograph Public Access Defbrillators (PADs) in various rural locations. We have a local village Response Team - people from the community who have basic training and can act as First Responders on the spot in case of emergencies.

So there are about twenty PADs scattered here and there - in rural church porches, on the outside of cricket pavilions, etc. - and I'm photographing these locations as part of a website location map, so that people can see where they are.

All of which is a long winded way of saying that one of the delights of doing this - particularly at this time of the year - is rolling and strolling through winding, leafy country lanes, dappled with the sun shining through the trees and hedgerows - hazel, oak, beech, hornbeam, chestnut everywhere. It's glorious. One of the PAD locations is on the external side wall of the Royal Oak pub in the hamlet of Wineham. A pub with no music, no modernisation, original wooden floors, beams, no pumps on the bar as the beer is in stollage out at the back.

So I chatted with the landlord after taking a pic of the PAD, and we agreed it would be churlish of me not to have a pint of Harveys after my gruelling experience. So I sat under an umbrella at a table in the garden, admiring the ancient beams and tiled roof of the pub, pint in front of me, with all the world at peace.

Now THAT, for me, is England.