Edge upwards

Four of us met at the Edgemoor Inn this morning, and walked along the Cotswold Way to Haresfield Beacon. It was misty for the most part, limiting our views South and West from the trig point, but the light was good. Though the rain of late has brought many of the leaves tumbling, rich colours remain, particularly - today - in the patchwork quilted floor of Stockend Wood, tepees amid the beeches below.

On Edge

We are planning to walk from Edge next Wednesday, if there is reasonable visibility so as to enable us to enjoy the view from the top of the escarpment. Today would have been almost perfect, though a little misty. Four of us caught the bus to Painswick, and walked a shortish distance along the Cotswold Way - there and back.

In the field just below Painswick, we passed a signpost, newly-erected, commemorating the late Tony Drake. He was Gloucestershire's arch-Rambler, so it's a fittingly elaborate memorial to someone who lived to fight for rights of way.

As it's my common complaint, when out walking, that you never see many farm workers these days, I was glad, passing Randall's Farm, to spot one in a field with just one cow in it. Wearing the traditional long coat, little seen nowadays, he gave her a pat, no doubt to say he was waiting for her calf to appear. Our path ran alongside the fence of another field containing a whole herd. "Oh, look at that handsome bull! I shouldn't much fancy being in that field." "Unless you were a cow of course."

Leaves are at their best, many still on the trees, but enough underfoot to scuff with satisfaction. It was shirt-sleeve balmy, with little wind - the culmination of some extraordinary October weather.

Bath

As the unexpected beneficiaries of our friends' cancelled holiday, we are in Bath for two nights, staying at the Lansdown Grove Hotel. On a windy but sunny morning, we walked down to the River Avon passing majestic trees (in their Autumn colours) and buildings to correspond: you can only glimpse them from a car.

Ahead of the first shuttle bus up the other side of the valley to Claverton and the American Museum (where we happily spent most of the day), there was time to explore Bath's wonderful Victoria Art Gallery: neither of us had been in before.

Barnwood

A car-less friend needed a chauffeur this morning, to take him to give a talk at Barnwood. I had been booked for this weeks ago, and in turn booked - as I thought it - the car. But just as I was ready to set off, I saw it disappearing out of the drive. So, for the rest of the time till lunch I was rather ill-temperedly playing catch-up.

The hiatus did enable me take a look at the church in Barnwood, much Victorianised, but quite handsomely set in an enormous churchyard, with some fine trees. Pope Francis has just put out his first big document, Evangelii Gaudium: "The Church," he says in it, "is called to be the house of the Father, with doors always wide open. One concrete sign of such openness is that our church doors should always be open, so that if someone, moved by the Spirit, comes there looking for God, he or she will not find a closed door."

St Lawrence's was firmly locked.

The Frome Valley

We had a gentle outing today, exploring a couple of areas North-West of Cirencester. We parked first at Daneway, to inspect the Gothick West portal of the canal tunnel, restored by Cotswold Canals Trust in 1996. The canal itself is barely visible, but one day...

Up the hill behind the pub, we peered over the electric gates of Daneway House, to admire a weather vane by the Miserden blacksmith, Michael Roberts. It's in the form of a golden phoenix alighting on a blue sphere - but alas too distant for me to get a decent photograph.

This unspoilt view down the valley was taken when exploring the site of Sapperton Manor, demolished nearly three centuries ago. Some of the panelling was salvaged for embellishing St Kenelm's Church, just to the East. But where did the church's Jacobean bench ends come from? Atlantes on each of them, and all different.

We were guided round and asked to lunch by a friend, a widower for eight years now. Not one to complain, he nevertheless admitted that "Living alone is lousy."

After lunch, we detoured to snoop at Middle Lypiatt, some or all of which has recently been on the market. A Bentley sits in the garage, overlooked by a polo player weather vane, which I could and did capture - maybe for an updated edition of my book.

A beautiful day, mostly sunny, no wind to speak of, and the colours splendid.

Sign of madness

Caroline was off to a sculpture trustees' meeting at Quenington this morning, so I cadged a lift part of the way. Leaving her to drive on from a little way beyond the top of the hill, I came back along the Cotswold Way.

It was a blustery day, the colours just on the turn. Walking down the steep former tramway from the top of Leckhampton Hill to Daisybank, the beeches looked particularly good.

At the start of the walk, I followed the rough track North from Ullenwood, certainly not fit for motor vehicles. Why the signage therefore?

Autumn (still)

It was six weeks ago that I posted signs of Autumn colouring - at Westonbirt. With the mild weather we've had, it still seems - from the trees in our garden - to be Autumn even now in late November. Roses are blooming: snapdragon and geranium phaeum are still in flower. Meanwhile, the Christmas lights are on and the Promenade is full of tawdry German Marketeers. One of them pointed out a bat yesterday, asleep on the tree trunk just behind his hut.

The Film Society offering this evening was Patagonia, with great landscape photography veering between Argentina in the Autumn and Wales in Springtime: it brought to mind the visual shock I experienced at this time of year in 2003, flying away from our soft Autumnal colours in order to land amidst vibrant reds and blues in South Island, New Zealand.

The Churn Valley

On Thursday morning, instead of my usual walk up the old track from Coberley towards Birdlip (shown in this photograph running from centre to bottom right), I found myself going round the edge of the big field to its North. This opens up a slightly different view. A long line of lime trees guards the field's road boundary, with Coberley village nestling in the trees beyond. Straggly Upper Coberley hides likewise in trees on the far side of the main Churn Valley. The two prehistoric tumps (just left of centre) look no older than the rusting farm machinery I passed in their lee. Beyond Coldwell Bottom, Bubb's Hill - in Elkstone Parish - presides on the right horizon. Behind me, hawthorn berries gleam in the sunshine, the Rosebay Willowherb - though no longer in flower - retains the attraction of its russet stems, and the Old Man's Beard shows promise for later on, when Autumn's colours have drained away. Unsurprisingly for October, I heard not a single bird.

Westonbirt

The National Arboretum may not be quite at its golden best, but it still made a pleasant diversion this afternoon, between Tetbury Festival concerts. The main drag was heavy with people, but there's plenty of scope for escaping the crowd, and getting a little lost on one or other of the lesser used tracks. There are after all 17 miles of them. The sun peeped through for some of the time, and the drizzle only started just as we drove away out of the car park.

Earlier, I had been taken out to lunch at The Close, the first visit to that hotel since we stayed on our wedding night. Not wanting to offend my hosts, I can't nevertheless say I'd go again just for the food.

Autumn

We have all the grandchildren staying here, so Caroline delegated dog walking to me this morning. We trespassed, dog and I, up near Withington. Although a mere six miles from home, as you can see from my photograph, it's completely another world from Cheltenham.

Only two disturbances to today's Autumn tranquility crossed my mind, one vertical. one horizontal. The steel pylon, which reared up at me as I took a wrong turning in the woods reminded me that, despite all the renewable fuel that surrounded me, the need for electricity is all-pervasive, and complete carbon elimination a far cry. Two low-flying vehicles of the RAF, gone almost before they came into hearing (but nevertheless brutish for those few instants) semed to be saying that - however our longing for disarmament and a constructive peace - some defence force will always be required, albeit at a huge and unsustainable cost.