Severn and Wye

I took this photograph, walking through the orchards of Corse Court Farm, just West of the River Severn, this warm afternoon. (We are enjoying an Indian Summer.) The adjacent St Margaret's Church, Corse must be one of the remotest from its village in Gloucestershire. To have gone round by the road would have meant a long detour, so we walked across to it. It's an idyllic setting, but there is nothing very remarkable about the interior, save for an excellent set of boards explaining about the Chartist Movement. One of five rural utopian communities was briefly established in the neighbourhood in the late 1840s, to my shame not something I knew much if anything about.

Earlier, we had driven just beyond Ross, and I found myself looking down on the River Wye, glistening in the sunshine. Away from the A40, you are soon in narrow lanes with high hedges. Good brakes are needed - and (my advice for the driver of a Chelsea Tractor we encountered) it does help not to be on the phone.

The view from Wellinghill

We set out from home this morning in unpromising weather - half light, and a gentle drizzle. But walking up from Charlton Kings, it gradually brightened, and by midday the sun had appeared.

This was taken a bit earlier, looking North-West over Harp Hill, towards the high ground beyond the River Severn in Hasfield parish and then on to the Malverns. Tewkesbury Abbey, 10 miles away as the crow flies, stands out clearly.

Severnside

The Yew Tree at Chaceley is only half an hour away, but I had never been there before yesterday. Caroline and I were the only customers, sitting on the lawn separating the pub from the River Severn. After winding along the road that leads North from Tirley - a much hedged-in lane - it's a surprise to come across such an open landscape all of a sudden - as if you've reached the seaside.

No doubt passing traffic is usually heavier than it was during our lunch hour, the landing-stage being big enough to accommodate a fair few barges. And as indicated by a weathervane, there's a sailing club just downstream, though we only saw one yacht on the river.

Dividing line

The Severn and the Thames are divided by the Cotswold escarpment obviously, and the line of the  Stroudwater Navigation and Thames & Severn Canal attempted to bridge that divide. Trade began about the time of the French Revolution, but the canal proved viable for barely more than a century, thus mocking the millions of hours of labour expended on its construction and maintenance.

40 or so years ago to a trust was established with a view to restoring the dwindled asset, and indeed stretches near the Western end now look very much more like the real thing than this scene I photographed today, near South Cerney.

On a dull but rainfree morning, we walked from that village through the Cotswold Water Park and up the Southern bank of the canal almost to Siddington. That bank, made of soil excavated from the canal bed of course, divides it narrowly from the zigzaggy River Churn at times; and our quintet's pleasant walk was in turn separated from the stop-start of foursomes on the South Cerney Golf Course by the watery tangle now infesting the canal itself.

"Cotmore"

Some friends were gathered at the Landmark Trust's Shelwick Court, just outside Hereford, this week, and I was kindly invited to join them there yesterday. My route was roundabout, to put it mildly: up on the train to Worcester (across the very swollen Avon); SW to Hereford (across an equally swollen Severn, and arriving near to a no less swollen Wye); SW again to Newport; E to Bristol Parkway and then home. There had been a landslide near Gloucester, it seems. Anyway, I had good value, I suppose, for my £12.05 fare.

After lunch, we walked from the fine old house down towards the River Lugg, but got nowhere near: more flooding there of course. In the morning, we were in the Cathedral. Its loos have a separate entrance, across a garden: emerging from them, the wind blew my cap off. Up it sailed, onto the loo block's high flat roof. Ah well, I thought, it's not irreplaceable. But I left my address with one of the stewards in case it ever came down.

We went on with our visit, which was timed to coincide with a lunchtime Service. We were out of luck, as there was a funeral taking place in the Lady Chapel. Disappointed, we approached the elderly retired priest from Much Wenlock who had welcomed us when we first came in. "Could you," I asked, "kindly lead us in a short prayer? Our group consists of Pax Christi workers and supporters..." He took us to the tiny Stanbury's Chantry, where we sat for a few minutes. But prayer for peace was there none. It seemed he had never heard of Pax Christi, which gave me rather a jolt.

Just as we'd left the Cathedral, the same steward I'd seen earlier came running after me - cap in hand. My request, "St Thomas of Hereford, pray for us" had borne fruit.

Just as we reached the car park, I noticed The Hereford Cattle Society office, with a statue of a bull over the door. I was about to photograph it when one of the staff emerged. Do you by any chance have "Cotmore" inside? I asked. Yes, come and see him, was the kind response. And so I was able to photograph the painting I'd long heard about, featuring my great-great-great-grandfather Thomas Jeffries' prize-winning bull in all its glory. Cotmore was where he had lived, near Lyonshall, and there bred this beast, weighing in - aged 9 - at 35 cwt (over one and a half tonnes).

Hill

Another first today, visiting the hamlet of Hill, right down by the River Severn beyond Berkeley. We were supporting the Gloucestershire Historic Churches Trust and in the process enjoying a jolly lunch in a left-over marquee pitched upon a sodden lawn. Never can loitering within tent have been such a prevalent activity in any recent Summer.

St Michael's church is no contender for any revised edition of Jenkins, but it has a certain atmosphere, thanks to the generosity of various Fusts. One of them married a Jenner - not the famous doctor's family - and Jenner-Fusts still live at Hill Court. (Indeed they are cousins both of Caroline and of Nicky Talbot Rice, GHCT's enthusiastic and welcoming Chairman.)

Had a bomb dropped upon that lunchtime tent, much of the fun would have been taken away from Gloucestershire's social life. Not that I would have survived to bemoan it of course.

Chepstow

My friend Jerry asked me to join him today, on a visit to Chepstow. Our mission was to look at the methodist church there: it has submitted for an eco-congregation award, and independent assessors were needed to see what they had been up to.

It's a town centre church, with a lot going on, including the busy Beacon Coffee Shop, where we met: it gives good heart to the community (the church has more than 200 members including quite a decent portion of younger ones - compared to many). The recently-installed PV panels will have made a big difference to the carbon footprint.

We had an interesting discussion with members of the green team - and Jerry and I had another interesting discussion, trying to come to some conclusions on the train journey back.

Before catching our train, we visited the great barn of an Anglican church, St Mary's Priory. How do you set about doing practical green things in a building of that scale? Perhaps the event at Southwark Cathedral tomorrow night would be of interest to them: "Thinking global, acting local" is the title for a discussion on how that ancient building can become more environmentally sustainable.

I didn't remember how beautiful that stretch of railway was, running along the West bank of the Severn. It must easily rank amongst Britain's most scenic routes.

Severn walk (2)

A couple of months ago, I walked for the first time along the East bank of the Severn: this morning, I walked a new (to me) stretch of the West bank - Southwards from Westbury to Newnham - dodging the showers.

Looking downstream at the point where the path from Westbury church meets the riverbank, I took this photograph of Newnham. When you get there, it has a bit of the look of a seaside town: standing on its high bluff overlooking the river, it must certainly seem as cool, when the wind is anywhere near the East. Some fine architecture indicates the importance of the town in times past, though who wants to live in a beautiful house if it fronts onto a busy road? Nor does it make much difference that the more or less continuous traffic on the A48 runs predominantly Southwards - into Wales: you only pay the Severn bridge toll going East-West, so this Gloucester-Chepstow detour avoids it.

Both SS Peter & Paul, Westbury and St Peter's Newnham have quite good Kempe glass - the latter's being the more interesting: a splendid Anna, and a Tabitha. But Newnham's 12th Century font is the real star of the show - that and the beautiful Peace Garden at the Eastern extremity of the churchyard. You enter as through the portal of a Shinto shrine, the injunction to bow your head being a little unnecessary for me.

Severn walk

The temperature rose, snow falling at last on Saturday night - our first of the year. As usual, we "suffered" less than in the East of England, and indeed it was pretty much a non-event. Certainly, there was nothing like enough to put us off driving to meet friends for a walk along the river.

Passing Frampton, we parked at Fretherne, walking from there N-W towards Arlingham. Awre church tower stood up on the far side of the channel, breaking the flatness. It feels odd looking North to May Hill from here; but then we know this part of Gloucestershire hardly at all. The last time I came to Frampton was with a motley bunch of bikers, en route for Slimbridge to help launch the National Cycle Network.

Not many birds to see yesterday.

Veiled vale

A starry night meant low temperatures again in Cheltenham, one of the coldest places in the country apparently. Having scraped the ice off the car windscreen, I was rewarded with a lift up to Ullenwood, and walked back from there - in broad sunshine. The Severn Vale was shrouded in mist, May Hill looking like a distant island.

Spring is round the corner now, with snowdrops and woodpeckers as advance guards. Despite the frost, there was still plenty of mud coming down from The Crippets and through the deer farm. GCHQ dominates the view from the escarpment here: its occupants are no doubt sitting in their shirt sleeves, the twin boilers going full pelt - as can be seen:

County boundaries

Gloucestershire is unusual in not having that many natural external boundaries: for a few miles, the Thames separates its South-East corner from Wiltshire, and in the West the Wye separates it from Wales, but otherwise the main boundaries are internal. The Severn is a major divide between prosperous East Gloucs. and unfashionable West. In the Cotswolds, house prices are at a premium compared with the Vale. Royal South Gloucestershire is another world from housing estates in Tewkesbury.

Today, in pursuit of more photographs for the Summerfield Trust (as mentioned last week), I drove to Cinderford, to see the vibrant Artspace project there; and from Cinderford to Cirencester. My two photographs here show the contrasting worlds I entered: below, Cinderford town centre, with its charity shops, and absence of any buildings of architectural note; and (above) Cirencester, with its elegant modern estates just adjacent to the town's beautiful market place.

Glorious Gloucester

Clutching my wonderful bus pass and a sandwich, I set off for Gloucester yesterday with a view to exploring the County Records Office. That will have to wait till another day.

I was sidetracked by the Cathedral: just before I left home, Sarah Loveday had arrived, and said I should drop by the Cloisters to look at Diana Green's Creation & Fall etchings, which are on temporary display. So I did (and admired them); which led to an amble round the Ambulatory and into the Lady Chapel. I realised that, in spite of many previous visits, I was looking at much of what I saw for the first time.

An hour or more had passed when a Steward walked by. "Was I joining the Tower Tour, starting in five minutes?" "No," I said, but then thought, "Why not?" The tower of the Cathedral is visible on almost any walk around Cheltenham, but I had never climbed up it.

The guide on duty - it happened to be a friend of ours, Sue Hamilton - does not it seems share my fear of heights. Intrepidly she led us 175 steps up to Great Peter (which strikes the hours), into the adjacent Ringing Chamber, and up again past the ring of twelve bells. Finally, we emerged onto the roof, and there we were, in driving rain, 225 feet above the Cathedral floor.

The view is of course amazing, even on a day like yesterday. When taking the photograph above - there are some more in a web sequence beginning here - I was pointing the camera West over the nave. In mediaeval times, the River Severn would have been visible flowing from right to left in the top of the picture. The West walk of the Cloister is visible at the bottom right, and beyond it the half-timbered building is where Richard II is thought to have held his Parliament of 1378.

To its left is the former Deanery. Caroline's great-great-grandfather Dean Edward Rice, who held office for 36 years, would have lived there with his 12 children: he kept chickens in the Cloister garden, according to Tamara Talbot Rice's autobiography. Sue Hamilton said there were still chickens kept in a roof garden somewhere in the Cathedral Close: I didn't spot them.

At that height, you cannot help thinking about the faith of the monks who organized such a tower to be built 550 years ago. On the bus, I was reading a newspaper article by a professor of philosophy under the headline "The rise of Milliband brings at last the prospect of an atheist prime minister." God save us!