"The Testament of Mary"

This was the subject of our discussion at our book group lunch in Cheltenham yesterday. We hadn't met for more than four months, yet still expressed relief that it was a short read. Is our stamina failing as we near our group's tenth anniversary?

I liked the juxtaposition of the mannequin's anorexic legs with the Big Issue salesman feeding a sandwich to his molly-coddled dog in the Promenade.

Joint Core Strategy

With heavy hearts, we trekked down to Shurdington Social Centre this evening: the outing was to visit the three local Councils' travelling exhibition to promote their draft plan for where to locate an extra 33,200 new homes over the next 18 years. Of particular concern to the Davis family is that over a thousand of them are scheduled to interfere big time with Caroline's dog-walking.

We listened to a desperately dull presentation from one of many men in a suit, who then declined to answer questions from the floor. Whereupon the microphone was grasped by a spokesperson for the snappily-acronymed Hatherley and Shurdington Triangle Action Group, HaShTAG. Bridget Farrer (she it is in my photograph), the bit firmly between her teeth, resisted all the suits' attempts to cut her short, a doughty display, much appreciated by the citizenry.

It has to be important to safeguard the lea of the Cotswold escarpment from the building that's mooted. I go back to an idea promoted by Kit Braunholtz many years ago: develop along a channel directly between Cheltenham and Gloucester, and combine that development with a major upgrade of the public transport infrastructure - e.g. a new light railway - and a strategy for bringing together the complementary strengths of Cheltenham and Gloucester. So far from either losing its identity, there's no reason why their distinctive attributes could not be enhanced by such a process. Further, the joint attraction of the two towns would make our area a more viable alternative to Bristol for those wishing to relocate to the South-West.

Around Northleach

As last Wednesday, the forecast was rain for this morning. Happily, it didn't materialise, and the five of us who set out to walk in a gentle anti-clockwise circle from Northleach stayed dry. Not only did the rain hold off, it was warm and intermittently sunny, as can be seen from my photograph, taken as we came back down into the Leach valley, looking forward to lunch.

We ate at the Sherborne Arms, our peace being interrupted by some continuous high-pitched barking a couple of tables away: the temptation to order a dog roll was hard to resist. By Winterwell Barn we had spotted rather more useful specimens of that ilk - four sheep dogs and a spaniel in the front of a pickup, overlooking (in the back) five sheep - a high pupil:teacher ratio.

Earlier, we chatted with the lone Stowell Park tractor man: born in nearby Withington in a bygone era, his CaseIH Steiger 485QT Quadtrac GPS-guided machine is a monster. Elsewhere than the Cotswolds, you could buy a house for what one costs. Weighing 24 tonnes and consuming 100 litres of fuel per hour, this vehicle is not something you look forward to meeting coming towards you on a country lane.

And a far cry from green economics: the other tractor man was "transitioned" when it arrived.

Before I left for Northleach, we had the Today programme on Radio 4. The Thought for the Day presenter was well upstaged by Celestina Mba an hour later, interviewed by Justin Webb.

Merton Council employed Celestina to work with needy children. At her interview, she had said she could not work on Sundays, as she was a Christian. "We can work around that," she was told, and was offered the job, which she accepted. But things changed, and the same man who interviewed Celestina told her, "We need you to work Sundays."

Justin Webb, who seemed perplexed by Celestina's stance, was told, calmly but impressively firmly: "You have to care for yourself, to be able to give care to other people. If I don't take care of my own spiritual being, I cannot give anybody anything. The reason that I work with them [autistic children] is because God enables me to work with them. It is not an easy job, but I enjoy what I do and believe I have so much to give them."

In other words, Nemo dat quod non habet.

Foot patrol

Our hostess knows lots of people down here, as has become apparent. One came to supper this evening, and remarked on the contrast between dress codes in Cornwall and Hampshire. "People don't mind what you look like down here," she said. To which I was tempted to add, "So long as you have a dog to accompany you. Or preferably two. Otherwise, what would there be to talk about?" Temptation then resisted, but when she exclaimed: "I won't ever go for a walk without a dog!" I couldn't help myself murmuring, "And I won't (if I can manage it) ever go for a walk with one." Bad experiences of being tripped up by extending leads don't help.

In previous September visits to Cornwall, I have made for the surf - a highlight of coming here. This year, I don't feel in the least tempted. Funny. The house is so near the sea and to Polzeath beach and yet so far away from it, and the weather is uninviting. Today, there hasn't even been a glimpse of the sun, though we escaped any rain on our windy walk from Pentire Farm via The Rumps home.

So we were able to watch the surfers from a distance, well-shepherded as they are these days by lifeguards. This hut sits on the South side of Hayle Bay: the sign outside tells passers by that the beach is today watched over by five "veterans". Ready to hot-foot it into action, I observe.

From above Polzeath, there's no danger of confusing wetsuited surfers with seals, as once we stupidly did when walking on Worm's Head. Today, rounding Pentire Head, we had (real) porpoises pointed out to us by fellow walkers: much more interaction between coast path traffic than there is on the pavements of Cheltenham, where you may be looked at askance if you offer a "Good morning!"

Winstone walking

The Wednesday walkers this week convened at the Highwayman and walked Southwards through Winstone parish. We were too hot to go at any great pace, so it was quite a small loop; but it was interesting to compare the churches in Winstone and Duntisbourne Abbots. The former, shaded by a huge Cedar of Lebanon, feels loved and cherished, a candle burning on a North aisle window shelf: the latter lacks that sense of mystery, its churchyard grass mown to an inch of its life.

On our way we passed the house of friends, who invited us in to see their bitch's litter of six whippet/lurcher puppies, born on Sunday evening. Aaah!

Tenby

I must have been all of six years old when we went on holiday to Saundersfoot, my grandmother too. Was it then that the car broke down en route? I rather think so, but I can hardly claim to remember much: the steep drop from the town of nearby Tenby to its beaches was however vaguely familiar.

Today, five of us went on something of a ruin crawl - Lamphey, Manorbier, Tenby and Carew: we didn't really explore Tenby a great deal, but I guess its castle counts as a ruin. By contrast, St Mary's Church there looks very much up together, with some terrific memorials and monuments.

At lunch we were encumbered with dogs: when we had at length found a pub with a garden I then made the mistake of not choosing fresh fish - a wasted opportunity, when we are so seldom near the sea. After three fine days, we were caught in a shower this afternoon, but only a brief one: September is definitely the month for holidaying this year.