Padstein

It's been a dry day, but only fitfully sunny: cool in the wind. Walking down to the Coast Path across Beniguet's large, springy-turfed lawn, we made our way this morning via an almost deserted Daymer Bay and the golf course to St Enodoc's Church.

After buying postcards and admiring John Betjeman's tombstone, we skirted Brae Hill and climbed over the dunes to the beach, where the Padstow ferry was kindly waiting for us. Nicely sprayed during the crossing, we were unloaded into a seething mass of people: to escape the crush, we fought our way uphill from the Harbour as quickly as possible before collapsing into a café. Having set off eventually to continue in the direction of Stepper Point, I realised my poles were still propped up against the café wall; so we redeployed to collect them and explore instead the nether reaches of Padstow itself. The beautifully-maintained church of St Petroc turned out to be well worth discovering.

All the Apostles are clearly distinguishable on the four faces of a handsome 15th Century font, and an early 17th Century Prideaux monument plus later memorials leave one in no doubt as to which family has been running the place for some centuries. Peter Prideaux-Brune, the present incumbent of the big house - a Catholic - must surely be happy that the church is now officially shared, with the blessed sacrament reserved in the Lady Chapel. (I have not spoken to him since 1956, when he and I sang in Messiah together under Roger Bevan.)

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.

Altarcation

Today, we have been exploring North Wiltshire, so near (from home), and yet so far. Caroline had never been to the Swindon Museum & Art Gallery before - and indeed I only went there last year for the first time: currently, they have an Arts Council touring exhibition of Matisse's Drawing with Scissors lithographs. This was interesting, as are some of the Modern British works in the permanent collection, and indeed the 20th Century pottery.

The Gallery feels rather a sad place to visit though. Swindon's population is nearly twice the size of Cheltenham's, but its arts facilities bear little comparison.

Things looked up as we left to visit three churches nearby, Simon Jenkins's guide in hand. St Mary's Lydiard Tregoze was luckily open, but only briefly: I should like to return, to look longer at the extraordinary array of memorials, and some rather tantalising mediaeval glass fragments.

St Mary's Purton we thought was probably less likely to get a second look, though the setting is delightful, the twin-towered church alongside a fine late Elizabethan manor house and enormous L-shaped barn. There's some mediaeval wall painting, and a 17th Century "Last Supper" over the main altar: Jenkins describes the reredos as an "awful tapestry", but he visited at a time when the Flemish painting had been stolen, and a local artist had lovingly created a version to fill the gap. (It now hangs at the West end of the church: Jenkins was not too cruel.)

Finally, to St Sampson's in Cricklade. Its disproportionately large tower dominates the Upper Thames valley, and should certainly be seen from within, so we gathered. But the church was locked. Happily, a kind Churchwarden came rapidly along to open up for us in response to my phone call: most impressive. St Sampson, a rare bird, appears in a Kempe West window.

The cat accompanied us as we explored the church: it apparently lives locked up inside.

Washbrook

Yesterday, after some of the heat of the day had abated, we drove the nine miles South to Painswick. The annual exhibition of the Gloucestershire Guild of Craftsmen - well worth a visit between now and 25th August - was opening that evening.

Having set off in time to meet our friends John and Sue Colquhoun for a walk beforehand, we aimed Westwards from Painswick into unfamiliar territory. Our path followed the Cotswold Way for a mile or so, then branched right down into a likely-looking, wooded valley, leading to what turned out to be the Washbrook. Soon we came across an unexceptional mill building, just like so many one comes across beside a stream - but look at this William and Mary doorway!

Walter Hawkins, a Bristol brewer, built Washbrook as a grist-mill, it seems. Successive owners milled cloth and then corn here for more than two hundred years. Hawkins' coat of arms, flanked by more swags, surmount another doorway on the same frontage, with an oval window above.

What extraordinarily rich carving to find in the middle of nowhere! (What an encouragement to go places on foot!)