New Year's Eve resolution

Caroline's dog has been ailing for a while. Indeed, after a last operation (of many), the vet gave it a precise 56 days to live, which expired on Boxing Day. This morning, she bravely made the call to have her put down. Then it was just a question of communicating the sad news to the children and grandchildren.

A recent parish bulletin has an apposite piece, "Some signs and symptoms of inner peace." I set them all out below, with best wishes for the coming year.

A tendency to think and act spontaneously rather, than on fears based on past experiences

An unmistakable ability to enjoy each moment

A loss of interest in judging other people

A loss of interest in interpreting the actions of others

A loss of interest in conflict

A loss of the ability to worry - a very serious symptom

Frequent, overwhelming episodes of appreciation

Contented feelings of connectedness with others and nature

Frequent attacks of smiling

An increasing tendency to let things happen rather than make them happen

An increased susceptibility to the love extended by others as well as the uncontrollable urge to extend it

Resigned

Since we last walked by the ghost-like barns at Wontley, just below Cleeve Common, a rash of signs has appeared, making this look like the Spaghetti Junction of the local footpath network. Nevertheless, stepping out with friends visiting yesterday from Brixton, we saw not a soul.

It was a good spin, from West Down, via Wontley to the windswept tree on top of the Common; but too much for our dog, Rosie. We had to leave Caroline with her by the masts, and come round with the car later. (Caroline fears she is not long for this world.)

From Brixton Market, we were presented with a pomegranate, two each of custard apples, Sharon fruits, prickly pears and plantains, and a mango!

Dog duty

Caroline is in Majorca (only for the inside of this week, thank goodness!) and so I am on dog-walking duty. And in charge of chickens too - rather less arduous.

Today, I chose to drive to Crippets Lane and, from there, walk below Leckhampton Hill. The wind was less fierce than earlier in the week, and the bright sunshine made it a perfect Autumn's day. I came back, planted garlic in the vegetable garden, and prepared for the broad beans and onion sets (purchased yesterday at Dundry Nurseries) to go in tomorrow. There's a frost forecast for tonight, so I brought some of the geraniums into the lean-to conservatory. You can't hope to save them all unless you have a greenhouse heater (which we don't).

Fr. Charles will be pleased about Arsenal's extra time win in France!

Walking to Prinknash

The forecast wasn't that good, but we need to do some serious walks ahead of our Camino, which starts on 3rd April. So, off we set bright and early, to walk to Painswick (from where there's a bus back hourly).

It turned out to be just right, not cold, some sun even and the only rain falling after we had abandoned our walking near one of Prinknash's lodges. (We and the dog were all exhausted by so much mud underfoot!)

We joined the Cotswold Way above The Crippetts. After stopping for coffee at the Air Balloon, and snarling at the traffic on the A417, we soon found ourselves in the magnificent escarpment woodlands which contined for the rest of the way. I specially like the look and feel of young beech trees after rain.

Ash Wednesday

On Monday, I mentioned The Times were doing an article featuring the Davis family and its "ashcan". How appropriate that its publication should be today! (There is even a second photograph in the print version.)

It's been quite surprising how many people have telephoned and emailed: The Times is evidently still the paper for many - in spite of the impossibility of such an article appearing in The Times as it was when I was first introduced to it. Our headmaster promised a Mars Bar for any boy who managed to have a letter printed: one did, but the promise seemed by then to have been forgotten.

Meanwhile, at my former office, a petition is circulating to save the family dog...

Ripe for development?

The word is that this and the other open land between us and Leckhampton Church has all been optioned (if not bought) by builders or developers, who are just waiting for the dominoes to start falling via the planning process. I - and many others - support LEGLAG, in opposing any such development, for many reasons, including the increased likelihood of flooding. Well, as you can see it was pretty boggy today, as always in Winter. Albeit scenic of course in the snow.

Caroline has set out intrepidly for Hampshire, loaded with sandwiches, blankets, mats and a shovel - as well as Agnes and Ida. They are to stay with William and Laurie for a couple of nights, whilst Edmund and Claire go to Norfolk for a wedding: it seems likely to be a white one.

Lost in Whittington

Caroline has been teaching this week: we have a young man from Chile staying with us, here on his Summer vacation to improve his English. As a result, I was on dog duty today. It was sunny at home, so I decided to drive up to Whittington, the parish in which we lived for nearly 12 years. There, however, the fog was dense. The footpath I remembered was easy enough to find and follow, through the woods, but when I emerged into the high, open country I felt surprisingly lost. Though the traffic on the A40 seemed nearby, there were none of the usual landmarks - until this familiar, rather beaten up copse came into view - and the sun poked through.

Autumn

We have all the grandchildren staying here, so Caroline delegated dog walking to me this morning. We trespassed, dog and I, up near Withington. Although a mere six miles from home, as you can see from my photograph, it's completely another world from Cheltenham.

Only two disturbances to today's Autumn tranquility crossed my mind, one vertical. one horizontal. The steel pylon, which reared up at me as I took a wrong turning in the woods reminded me that, despite all the renewable fuel that surrounded me, the need for electricity is all-pervasive, and complete carbon elimination a far cry. Two low-flying vehicles of the RAF, gone almost before they came into hearing (but nevertheless brutish for those few instants) semed to be saying that - however our longing for disarmament and a constructive peace - some defence force will always be required, albeit at a huge and unsustainable cost.

The slow lane

Rosie - our springer spaniel - has not hitherto featured a great deal in my blog, but here she takes centre stage, along with my companion of yesterday morning, Maestro Smith. Elise, not in the slow lane this weekend, had left Martin a grass widower, to whom we promised a walk and lunch.

We met at Brimpsfield - Martin, fashionably late as usual (but not much) - and walked Southwards along the open valley below Eddington Wood. Here - contrast Thursday's post - you would never know you were only a mile from the A417(T) dual carriageway.

This photograph was taken as we approached Caudle Green, where we saw the largest clump of Autumn cyclamen you could hope to find, and Rosie was in her element chasing roadside pheasants. Our path went left, up another equally lovely valley through Ostrich and Poston Woods, thankfully free of the threat of being overlooked by any Syde Park mansion development. Finally, we passed Brimpsfield Park's lakes, pausing to watch a single swan cruising carelessly.

All this in shirtsleeves, and good conversation too.

Sight but sore ears

glouc
This morning, with the mist clearing, I went with Caroline (and Rosie) up to Crickley Hill. Having parked the car, we walked South: this photograph was taken at the Park's noisiest extremity, with traffic on the A417(T) roaring away below us; and yet it is the most peaceful of scenes. For the deaf, Crickley must be a haven!

After our cold and stormy spell last week, it was warm enough for shirt sleeves, though the oak and beech are already beginning to turn in the huge old wood above the cricket field. Gloucester Cathedral stood out clearly from the hill fort, as did the C&G head office at Barnwood: there will be many working there today, who are nervous about their future job prospects: Lloyds TSB surely won't want to keep two large building societies in parallel.