Memory lane

This week's Wednesday outing started from the Royal Oak car park, Andoversford. Apart from the task of finding (lost amidst the new houses) the footpath opposite the old market, it was plain sailing. This is because of our time (1973-94) living along the way we took.

Mind you, everything has changed, as Gill Hyatt agreed when we chin-wagged briefly in Sevenhampton Churchyard. Syreford's once-reasonably humble dwellings are all mansions, with the trappings of the prevalent horsiculture, electric gates, weathervanes and the like. Sevenhampton seemed deserted, many of the properties being second homes. A large house seems to be going up along the tranquil lane to Brockhampton (Gassons). The trees on Elsdown have been thinned no doubt to afford the now-converted barn there a view. Did the walk make me homesick? It's not a world where I would now feel at home, but I was glad to have renewed its acquaintance, especially on a fine Spring day.

The same goes for Saudi Arabia. Wajda, at the Film Society film last night, unfolded a delicate, wry and at times painful-to-watch picture of life in that country, all the more affecting because filmed by a female director. "Is it any wonder," Caroline asked, "that Muslims criticise us for the laxity of our children's behaviour?"