Rosieville

There are currently signs pointing to "Rosie" as you approach Miserden, and the road through the village has been covered with gravel. Not only that indicates filming in progress: the Carpenter's Arms is currently "The Woolpack" and strange posters adorn the noticeboard under the tree. Yes, the BBC are doing a remake of Laurie Lee's "Cider with Rosie" and clearly despaired of securing any peace for the project in its true location, nearby Slad.

Disturbing the peace

Not many places in Gloucestershire can be as tranquil as the upper reaches of the valley of the Holy Brook. Five of us were walking that way this morning, starting from Miserden - just the smallest sprinkling of ran could be felt for a minute or two, but otherwise yet anther fine, warm Autumn day. There were no mushrooms, but nuts and blackberries were gleaned, and above Honeycombe Farm a touch of Spain and Italy too: for Our Leader produced Cava, olives and sun-dried tomatoes, no less, from his backpack, with which we all celebrated his reaching that milestone that is three-quarters of a century.

Returning via Sudgrove, I had a word with Lawrence and admired his pumpkins. I had spotted his Concorde weather vane earlier in the year when we walked that way, and wondered what connection Concorde might have with such an outpost of civilisation (pace Ian McEwan). "There used to be a cat up there," Alex told me, "but I've always been a plane spotter: Concorde was based at Fairford during its testing, and when it came over and they were playing cricket, the game ground to a halt. I found the image in a weather vane pattern book, so I ordered one to replace pussy." From purr to roar.

Still mild

Apart from the first bit, I walked today without gloves. Not often can I write that in January. Five of us set out from the Miserden pub car park at 9:45 and returned there around 12:15. We had walked clockwise via Sudgrove, Througham and Wishanger. (This is the landscape to the left of our path between the last two places.)

It was not just warm and windless, it was 99% dry too, and a wan sun even tried to poke through the clouds at times. Underfoot, the going was slippy at times - hardly surprising in view of the rain we have had - and care was needed over the stiles; but a near perfect light. I photographed a Concorde weather vane near Ian McEwan's house at Sudgrove, mist in the steep valley below it and my first lamb of 2014. All very satisfactory.

Three valley walk

Stepping from the bus this morning, I set off down Lower Washwell Lane, towards the Painswick Stream and Lovedays Mill. Ascending to Cockshoot, there were great views back to the self-styled (?) Queen of the Cotswolds, and then a good view also of Sheepscombe from Blackstable Wood.

After a few yards along the Slad road, my path soon led down vertiginously into the next valley East, Dillay Brook, tiny lambs scurrying away from me. I took this photograph on the climb back out, before the less scenic trudge up through Nottingham Scrubs.

Back at 250 metres, I crossed the Calf Way, before my third descent, to the Holy Brook at beautiful Honeycombe Farm, and the final climb leading me soon into Miserden and the warmth of the Carpenter's Arms. Not having seen a single soul since I left Painswick, "Are we following each other?" a voice asked. It was someone who had just come in from a walk in Miserden Park, and (like me) had also been walking round Dursley four weeks ago: he had seen me lunching in The Old Spot (where the food is better).

Miserden

It wasn't the best morning for a longish outing, but we had arranged to meet an old friend to walk in Miserden Park, which he knows well. We had only just set off through the wonderfully ancient pasture, below the Park, when we heard the first shots: pheasants were fearing for their lives in the woods we were aiming towards. Having turned round to regain the car and look for peace elsewhere, I took this photograph: horses, 4: humans, 0 - about par for a Cotswold village these days.

We ended up parking at nearby Sudgrove, and walking from there N-W along the contour, opposite Througham: that hamlet, though close by, was hardly visible through the mist. It's another ancient landscape, and one we should return to discover in more detail on a sunny day - and when the ground is drier.

"Arise Sir Martin"

Edmund gave me the happy news at breakfast that our good friend Martin Smith had been awarded a long-overdue knighthood in the New Year Honours!

He it was with whom we walked and lunched yesterday in Miserden, but not a word did he then breathe of the news of his elevation: great self-control, I call that.

In my congratulatory email I suggested he and Bradley Wiggins should ride down The Mall together on a tandem, to line up for their dubbing: my photograph of Martin was taken in the porch of Gloucester Cathedral during his epic Land's End to John O'Groats bike ride in 2008. (I accompanied him for a short distance.)

That trip raised a satisfying amount for charitable purposes, but it doesn't begin to compare with Martin's other generosity over a long period: causes orchestral, operatic, scientific, environmental, educational... all have benefited enormously from Smith largesse. Never has an honour been better deserved!

Miserden

Edmund drove me up to Miserden this morning. We were meeting a friend for a walk, and looked forward to it being a testing one: we were all in need of overcoming the ill effects of Christmas.

It turned out, however, to be a brief road stroll, as said friend had forgotten his boots. (He had, to compensate, brought with him the keys of his wife's car, necessitating some tricky telephone negotiations whilst we walked.)

The triangular route ended by St Andrew's Church. This (right) is an intriguing Anglo-Saxon doorhead in the North wall. It sits above a modern (well, 14th Century) opening, known according to the guidebook as "the Devil's Doorway": the devil would apparently come in by the South door and leave by the North.

The church also contains some excellent early 17th Century monuments, including one of Sir William and Lady Sandys in Derbyshire alabaster: their clothes look particularly lifelike. None of us could imagine anyone having the skill to create such a memorial today, at whatever price.