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.

A reading party

The best bit about staying in a Landmark is the opportunity it gives to sit and read, without distraction from telephone (mostly), computers and television. Long may the Trust's "No wifi" policy continue, though I fear it's under threat.

As may be gleaned from my photograph, the living area at Astley is upstairs, with floor length windows giving a view across to the parish church. Its origins are as old as the Castle's, but only part of the 14th Century Collegiate remains: it must have been huge! In the now vanished spire, a light was shown after dark, giving Astley - then surrounded by forest - the name of "the Lantern of Arden". We heard all this from one of the churchwardens, who met us inside the - extremely low - West door of St Mary's this morning and gave us the benefit of the knowledge gleaned during his sixty plus years as a parishioner. It transpires that visitors to the Castle included not only Lady Jane Grey, but (more significant, possibly, in the mind of our new friend) Sir Elton John.

An old friend came to lunch with us here: he serves as a priest in a parish within the Coventry conurbation, where he is busy organising a food bank. Walking up towards the transformed Castle, he exclaimed: "This must have cost a lot! What a waste of money!" It's a point of view: after all £2.7m was spent on the restoration. And didn't Rose Macaulay speak of this "perhaps overcastled earth"?

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.

Dorchester Abbey

On Saturday, I photographed this detail from a late 13th/early 14th Century glass roundel in the Dorchester Abbey chancel's SE window - "reputedly the oldest stained glass in England, possibly inported from a church in France," according to Simon Jenkins. The two characters could almost have emerged from a 20th Century cartoon strip. The window sits beneath an elaborately carved sedilia, and opposite the magnificent Jesse window - greatly trickier to photograph. Discovering the Abbey's rich chancel was unexpected: the nave (and indeed the exterior) seemed unpromisingly austere, particularly given that preparations were in full swing for that evening's concert by Showaddywaddy. "Who are they?" I asked: well, according to the pre-publicity, "they have long been established as Europe's most successful ever exponents in the art of rock and roll. 23 Top 40 hit singles including 10 Top 5 hits (Under The Moon Of Love, When, I Wonder Why, 3 Steps To Heaven, Hey Rock and Roll.....), 15 massive selling albums - including 3 multi-platinum, over 50 Top of the Pops appearances..." and so it goes on - under my radar.

The Gloucestershire Way

Yesterday, I set out to fulfil a New Year's Resolution: to walk the Gloucestershire Way. I shall leave the more remote bits till later in the year. It was easiest to start near home, from Crickley Hill.

The photograph was taken looking back North-Westwards at the Hill, across the A417. It must be the most hazardous crossing on all the 100-mile route: three lanes of traffic without any central reservation. But walk for five minutes up and away from the road and - noise apart - you are in the most glorious landscape: on a day like yesterday especially.

You couldn't find a better example of Cotswold walling than here at Coberley, supporting the garden of the former Rectory, a couple of miles down the Gloucestershire Way from Crickley Hill.

The church is certainly in need of a signpost: you can't see it at all from the village road. You approach it through a gate in a house wall, leading to a garden path. It's what Pevsner calls "the shadow of an outer courtyard of Coberley Court (demolished 1790)." The church contains some handsome 14th Century memorials, but was more or less entirely rebuilt 500 years later. Apart from its situation, it's not one of my favourite buildings though it feels much loved and cared for.



Pevsner seems to have missed the rather mysterious face in the farmhouse wall high above the entrance to the church from the road.

France: around Simorre

We only glimpsed the Pyrenees just as we were leaving our chambre d'hôte at the end of a two-night stay. Its address was a remote hamlet, Monferran-Plavès. But the house was further from there than we were led to believe: in the middle of nowhere actually. Not a place to find easily on a rainy, windblown evening after dark.

During most of our stay, the weather was misty - and very cold. We made sorties to various local villages, but all were as quiet as the grave. We spent a long time in the bleak but beautiful church at Simorre, but seeking out a cup of coffee (lukewarm) in the local bar, we found it populated just by the silent proprietor and two cats. Driving through the empty lanes of the Midi-Pyrénées in November, I thought what a desolate place to live! However attractive, you can't eat the scenery.

Simorre church is a huge, brick, fortified, 14th Century priory (restored by Viollet-le-Duc 600 years later), its main external feature an octagonal lantern, surrounded by pinacled turrets, a haven for the pigeons circling round. Inside, there is a set of 35 choir stalls (with misericords), the carving as fine as in Auch Cathedral, but more rustic, and the wood much lighter in colour. Through the grille on the sacristy door, you can see wall paintings, and a small, rather exquisite Deposition. No doubt it's not worth the risk of leaving it in an open, untenanted church, where there is a larger one - simple compared to Monastiès, but fine all the same. Some old glass too, but high up and difficult to see clearly. Altogether, a great building: like many others in sleepy corners of France, a delight to come across.

Encouraged, we also went into the church of Notre Dame de l'Assomption in nearby Boulogne sur Gesse: another large 14th Century building, but not so impressive apart from the pulpit - covered with stone carvings of animals (more or less fabulous): I particularly liked the lizard, about to devour a snail.

In that area, we liked too the Cistercian Abbey of Sainte Marie de Boulaur, with its 14th Century frescoes. Nuns returned after World War II, and it is very much a place of prayer today. But how do they maintain such a place? We were looking round the church when my mobile phone rang: the only time I heard it during our entire trip.

Gimont church (Notre Dame) also boasts an octagonal tower - very tall - but with its interior in a sad state. (To make up for it, our coffee in the market square bar was hot.)