Cycle Norfolk

We are staying in rural Norfolk, having come here by train and bike today. There was over an hour between our supposed arrival into Paddington and our departure from King's Cross, ample time, I thought, to bike between the two along the Regent Canal towpath, our most tranquil route. But the Cheltenham train came in late, and it was slow going through the rain, so we ended up having to run the length of platform 11 to catch our connection. Then we had to squeeze our bikes in between the end carriage doors, there being zero other provision, this despite the service feeding Cambridge, Ely, King's Lynn, the most cycling-friendly part of England. (As Amanda tells Elyot,"Very flat, Norfolk.")

King's Lynn merits further exploration, but we much enjoyed what we had time to see of the old town, whizzing round the outsides of Clifton House (with its 18th Century barley sugar columns either side of the front door and extraordinary Tudor tower at the rear), the Guildhall, the Old Gaol, the Custom House and the so-called St Nicholas' Chapel (almost the size of a small cathedral). It was St Margaret's Minster that impressed me most though. Not just the Norman West front: the 13th/14th Century arcading and brasses too - but also the modern crucifix above the pulpit, altar frontal and stained glass in the large N-W window under the tower. A vibrant church!

We were glad to complete our 15 miles here before dark, and get out of the rain. This after only a minor detour - not bad considering I had no proper map. As my photograph shows, our kind hostess, a very old friend, has begun to look uncannily like Basil Hume. He was never, to my knowledge, a cat-lover: she gave us a cat as a wedding present.

Astley

We have travelled to North-East Warwickshire today, to stay in one of the latest Landmark Trust properties to become available. Astley Castle was really more designed - in the 13th Century - as a fortified manor house: this part of the world is pretty flat, so the site has few natural advantages. The Trust provides parking behind the 18th Century Coach House, seen to the left of my photograph, and wheelbarrows for luggage to be pushed up the path - hardly an arduous task as it's certainly not an ear-popping ascent. The gates would hardly stop many armies in their tracks, though the moat is impressively deep.

What is so attractive about Astley? Its history - three English Queens are associated with it; and the fact that there's now a totally modern dwelling with plenty of room for eight people, built within the old walls. Brilliant in fact for a four-day stay!

Great Coxwell's sow and litter

For the first time this month, Caroline and I drove off together across the Gloucestershire county boundary. Not many miles, though we could have touched on three other counties in the process.

First stop was over the Thames to Inglesham, Wiltshire. Notwithstanding Hans Hotter was singing Der Leiermann for Michael Berkeley's Private Passions guest (Dominic West) on the car radio, there was a touch of Spring in the air.

After a pub lunch in Coleshill (Oxfordshire, we were assured), we drove a short distance to Great Coxwell (Berkshire, according to Pevsner) to look at its stupendous 13th Century barn. More than 50 yards long, it is "as noble as a cathedral," in William Morris's words.

But I'm glad Caroline suggested we should explore a bit further before turning the car round: the village church of St Giles (even older in origin than the barn) has some interesting glass: engraved 18th Century in the East window, and a combined Good Shepherd and Good Samaritan window in the South wall of the nave, possibly Kempe or Clayton and Bell.

The church's most intriguing feature though is this sow with her litter, a rustic mediaeval relief carved high up on the West face of the tower. Its simplicity and humour contrasted so markedly with the ponderous sensationalism of Jeremy Paxman in BBC's The Victorians which we watched on television later.

Brussels: the final leg

From Luxembourg it's not that far up through the Ardennes to Brussels, where we arrived at midday. An unmemorable journey, apart from the train being remarkably empty: the day was misty so we couldn't see much. Oh yes, Namur's Citadel looked impressive, perched above the River Meuse.

We were kindly invited to Brussels to stay with Thibaud and Ulli de Saint-Quentin, recently-moved there from across our road in Cheltenham. Thibaud, with an insider's knowledge of the chocolate industry, was well-placed to guide us round the mouth-watering shops in Place du Grand Sablon: the window of Maison Marcolini looked more like a jeweller's than a chocolatier's.

Left to ourselves, we enjoyed the Royal Museums, both ancient and modern: the modern (besides its impressive collection) has a lift as large as a dentist's waiting-room. We also had an excellent lunch in the Museum Brasserie: recommended. Earlier, we explored the Marolles quarter, and the market in Place du Jeu de Balle: I bargained for some pretty plates there a couple of years ago, carrying them back unwrapped in my hand on Eurostar.

I had visited the beautiful late Gothic Notre Dame du Sablon a couple of times, but apart from another look at that lovely church we also went into the nearby Notre Dame de la Chapelle, an enormous Romanesque/Gothic church, burial place of the elder Brueghel, and the Chapelle Sainte-Marie-Madeleine. This last is tiny by comparison, a restored jewel, clearly much used and loved. One of the Sisters of the Assumption keeps a small shop.

Reflecting on our nearly four weeks away, it's the Christian thread to our journeys that stands out: great cathedrals; monastic buildings, churches and chapels, and religious painting and sculpture - all relics of a common culture flourishing over a period of many centuries. The same stories again and again, but told each in its unique way, and with the utmost reverence, formed a persistent theme for meditation. Even if churches lack repair and may be poorly attended, with few priests available - as in France particularly - nevertheless in that kindness to strangers we experienced everywhere we went, I felt and was grateful for more than a merely humanist tradition: it is Christianity's enduring legacy.