Bishop Frank

Your Holiness,

Congratulations on your election as Pope, and I hope your new job won't turn out to be a poisoned chalice - either self-administered, or slipped to you by some corrupt member of your household (the fate which was surmised to have befallen your predecessor but two).

Although I am addressing this to "Your Holiness" - in traditional mode - I wouldn't be surprised if you didn't prefer a less lofty title, judging by the way you introduced yourself from the balcony last evening. "Brothers and sisters, good evening." What a delightful beginning!

Sam Jones had a long piece in last Saturday's Guardian about cardinals who made up the electoral college. "Then there are those who find fame for other reasons," he wrote. "Cardinal Jorge Mario Bergoglio, the Jesuit intellectual and Archbishop of Buenos Aires who travels round town by bus and told his compatriots not to waste their money on plane tickets to Rome to see him become a cardinal, but to give it instead to the poor..." My heart leapt to read this: someone who walked the talk!

And then what a great name to choose! I photographed a "St Francis" stained glass window when visiting St Alphege's Church in Solihull last month: here is a detail. You can see the saint's stigmata - reminding us of the cross Christians have to bear - and the wolf (the Curia?) alongside the rabbit (us in our pews) and the robin (Reliant? - the new Popemobile?).

I groaned when the news came of Joseph Ratzinger's election: last night, though, I was fighting back tears of joy. You are an answer to many prayers!

Macaroni

I photographed this lovely dip by the entrance to Macaroni Downs Farm today on our Wednesday walk, based on Eastleach. It was a beautiful day, the wind a little less cool even on the tops, with views as far as the clumps above Marlborough. But there was ice on our windscreen first thing, and ice too on the River Leach.

From the car park behind The Victoria, we walked South down the beautiful valley, keeping the river to our left until we crossed amongst the ducks at Coate Mill. Just before that, we had found ourselves on the wrong side of a fence. Attempting to cross it, the largest member of our party finished upside down, hanging by his trousers on the top wire: it was all three of us could do to detach him, and pull him to his feet - a nasty moment.

On a good day for plane spotters (Brize Norton is all too near), it was also - the second day in succession for me - one when I could stand and watch the less noisy, more graceful red kite: a thrilling sight.

Macaroni seems a rather appropriate place to illustrate what's going on at this moment: we are awaiting news of who has been elected Pope!