Painswick

Five of us walked from Sheepscombe this morning. The only steep bit was at the outset, up through Lord's Wood. But worth it for the view down towards Painswick.

Trench Hill

With difficulty, we found our way to the garden which was open for members of the Gloucestershire Organic Gardening Group tonight. It was worth persisting in our search. A magnificent evening, and a garden filled with colour and interest! Celia Hargrave must work all the hours that God gives to keep on top of it. The view down towards Stroud alone should sell it for anyone looking for a garden to visit in the NGS list. In the foreground just out of this photograph there are wild orchids, as big as any I have seen in Gloucestershire.

On foot, and Benn

"Foot and Benn Disease" is said to have been the illness Labour suffered from in the 'Eighties. Michael Foot was often seen in Cheltenham during the literature festival - I bumped into him, shopping on one occasion. And in 2011, beside Imperial Gardens, Tony Benn was just too late to say that I could not take this photograph.

Benn's death aged 88 - hardly a shock - removes from the scene one of the great characters of late 20th Century political life in Britain, like him or loathe him. I was mainly in the latter camp, except in respect of his stand on the Iraq War. How you long for people in politics today to have the same courage of their convictions!

I set off to walk from Brockworth to Slad yesterday morning, but was so exhausted climbing Cooper's Hill that I decided Sheepscombe would be far enough. In contrast to the 99% dry-under-foot walk on Wednesday, it was heavy and uncertain going as I made my way up through fog from the Cross Hands. Even high up in the Beechwoods National Nature Reserve the paths were muddy, another hazard being the trees that had fallen recently.

Arrival at the Butcher's Arms was delayed by my retracing my steps in a vain effort to recover a lost lens cap. I suppose it must have rolled away off the track through Lord's Wood.

Above Sheepscombe

Being deprived by festivities of our last two Wednesday walks, we met at Foston's Ash yesterday morning, to shake away some cobwebs. The mud was our main prospective enemy, because of the terrific rainfall recently. (Our drawing-room alcove ceiling almost gave way: just in time, Edmund drilled holes to channel the water leaking in.)

To avoid the shooting at Climperwell, we walked towards Cranham and then leftwards into the beechwoods above Sheepscombe. Hard core has long been laid on the tracks there, providing a firm path for us as well as the forest machinery. This giraffe-like trunk caught my eye.

Delaying our start till a squall had passed, we then missed any more rain, and indeed the sun lit up the tree tops on our final stretch, through the woods that the late John Workman gave to the National Trust.

That is an organisation evidently not solicitous about its punctuation: "Workmans Wood" on one sign, and "Workman s Wood" on two others. Should one be surprised when one of its top brass sends us a family round robin displaying a similarly cavalier approach to the apostrophe rule?

Oh dear! Bang goes my New Year's resolution - to be less nerdish. It contrasts somewhat in scale with Ian Jack's. Writing in today's Guardian, he says:

New Year resolutions rarely see out February because they're born in a… wishy-washy sort of hope, too weak to resist the seduction of old habits. Fear, on the other hand, keeps you on the straight and narrow… Domesticated ruminants are the largest source of anthropogenic methane and account for 11.6% of greenhouse gases that can be attributed to human activity…The use of highly productive croplands to produce animal feed is [also] questionable on moral grounds because this contributes to exhausting the world's food supply. Other well-known consequences include tropical deforestation and the erosion of biodiversity, but unless governments intervene… it seems unlikely that the demand for animal flesh can be curbed. 

But which popularly elected government will ration meat or deliberately price it as a luxury?… 

Nonetheless, my resolution this year is to become a vegetarian… I doubt that I can stick to it. Where's the terror at three in the morning that will change my behaviour? A gale may be tearing over the house and a flood running down the street, but the link to a lifetime's mince consumption will be hard to fix in my imagination. When it comes to the bleak future of the world, the complicated route between cause and effect is the greatest barrier to our doing much to change it.

Sheepscombe

My Wednesday walking colleagues were meeting at The Butcher's Arms in Sheepscombe today. I took this photograph, looking back at the village shortly after we set out, so the shadows are still quite long. Though I know the Painswick area a little, I hadn't done this walk before: some lovely views! And a perfect Spring day for it.

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).

Lord's Wood

Caroline dropped me off at Foston's Ash yesterday morning, to meet up with a friend and his dog: ours isn't up to much. We all later gathered for a protracted pub lunch.

From the busy Birdlip-Bisley road, you are soon it seems miles away, dropping down into the National Trust's Workmans Wood. A muddy track descends through the beeches, past a lake and into Sheepscombe. From there we climbed up the bank into Lord's Wood, before swinging round North of Ebworth House and back to the road. Many hares were started: few solutions arrived at.