Flying high again

After a good deal of rain, we four walkers took off from the Churn valley this sunless morning in the direction of higher ground. East from North Cerney, you soon reach a plateau, with views towards Blunsden and beyond. Our field path - not too muddy - crossed the White Way before coming to the Calmsden lane. We followed it down into that hamlet, past The Tallet. Pausing to admire the 14th Century wayside cross, we pushed on up along the side of Rendcomb airfield: it's much developed since I was last in these parts. The Monarch's Way was muddy, through Conigree Wood, but overall it was generally agreed to be a good walk on a dry, mild, windless day.

Not so much scenic variety in Nebraska though, judging from the film of that name which we saw last night. It was a road movie, a little slow-moving in parts, but wryly humorous and poignant.

Flying high

It was cold this morning, and Jeremy and I had to halt a chilly while on our walk up the sunless valley to Tresham while pheasants were being slaughtered. Beaters moved North-Westwards through Knight's Grove putting scores of birds up to fly high over the Guns, each with his (sic) loader. Thus Downton Abbey lives on in Beaufort country, save they now arrive in their Range Rovers, and use magnet-tipped walking sticks to collect the empty cartridge cases.

We warmed up once we were up on the ridge road back towards Alderley, Newark Park peeking through the trees to the North, across Ozleworth Bottom. From Tresham, we watched two mechanised sheep dogs rounding up the flock in order to sweep it down below Furlong's Brake.

We can recommend the pub at Hillesley, now owned by a community cooperative. On a grassy patch adjacent, I saw something yellow: a daffodil is in flower.

Leap of Faith

There is only one church dedicated to St Faith in Gloucestershire, a remote and delightfully modest one: as I hadn't photographed it, and as it was my turn to plan today's expedition, I suggested the six of us should set out to walk to Farmcote from the car park of the nearest pub, the Plough at Ford. Did it prove a step too far? Despite another glorious day (no sign of the forecast "weather bomb"), I detected some murmuring in the ranks.

The first photo op came as we were booting up. Jackdaws Castle abuts the car park, and there was Jonjo O'Neill's string proceeding down towards us in stately fashion, before turning and galloping back up the hill, four by four, an exhilarating sight (only possible to stage if you have several million pounds in the bank).

Cutsdean, straggling along the upper reaches of the Windrush, possesses - nestling within a farmyard - a church of St James. Though it was locked, we could still admire the black scallop centred in the church gate. It looks recent - no coincidence, surely, that a James owns the village? [PS As it happens, it IS a coincidence!] The same lordly hand has left its impression upon the landscape that extends North from beside Beckbury Camp down to and beyond Stanway House. The prodigious avenue, all of two miles long, will have cost but a fraction of that string of racehorses, but will I trust endure long after horsiculture is forgotten.

Grandfathers' footsteps was the name of the game as we followed Campden Lane West from Stumps Cross.

Woodchester

In contrast to Monday, today was brilliantly sunny, a perfect day for Winter walking. Four of us set off from the lay-by on the A46, past the 18th Century former drying tower (now a house) up Frogmarsh Lane and through South Woodchester, a village with a past: so many fine 17th/18th Century stone properties! Then up alongside Dingle Wood, and back left on the drive towards Bownhill Farm, with a 180 degree panorama from Horsley to Randwick. We descended, skirting Woodchester Park, to Inchbrook through a large, rather incongruous vineyard, before the final climb up to pass above C.F. Hansom's Our Lady of the Annunciation and the former Poor Clares' convent.

Naunton

Three of us set out this dank morning from Naunton: we walked up the Windrush and across to Guiting Power, then to Barton and East towards Huntsman's Quarry, cutting downhill back to the Black Horse in time for not a very good lunch. Fact acquired: the Guiting Amenity Trust owns 73 properties. Photo: Longford House, next to the pub - built around 1800.

Post-remembrance

In the West window of Sapperton Church stands a fine arrangement of poppies, which would be lost against stained glass. Yesterday I was there showing Dido round the local Arts and Crafts connections - they were new to her. Beforehand, we had a brisk walk up the valley from Duntisbourne Abbotts - a little too brisk (and far) for Murphy's short legs: to get him back to Long Ford he had to be put on the trip-me-up.

Brimpsfield

Four of us met at Nettleton Bottom this morning for a shortish walk in the Brimpsfield area. It wasn't as muddy as we feared, though there was plenty of climbing over stiles. Brimpsfield itself is a more extensive village than I had realised, but with few buildings of much real interest apart from the church: we explored that at some length, and John kindly advanced me the wherewithal to buy one of the excellent guidebooks.

This evening, we have been watching old film, brought (on DVD) by Caroline's cousin, who is staying: it included joyous scenes of a 10-year-old Caroline as a bridesmaid in Lincolnshire, and later with her donkey in Devon.

Romania reunion

Seven of those of us who walked together in Transylvania last year met up in the Malvern Hills this morning, for a stroll Southwards towards Eastnor. The view from the Herefordshire Beacon wasn't as extensive as it might have been, with the mist slow to clear, but it was a pretty perfect day for a walk nevertheless.

Edge upwards

Four of us met at the Edgemoor Inn this morning, and walked along the Cotswold Way to Haresfield Beacon. It was misty for the most part, limiting our views South and West from the trig point, but the light was good. Though the rain of late has brought many of the leaves tumbling, rich colours remain, particularly - today - in the patchwork quilted floor of Stockend Wood, tepees amid the beeches below.

On Edge

We are planning to walk from Edge next Wednesday, if there is reasonable visibility so as to enable us to enjoy the view from the top of the escarpment. Today would have been almost perfect, though a little misty. Four of us caught the bus to Painswick, and walked a shortish distance along the Cotswold Way - there and back.

In the field just below Painswick, we passed a signpost, newly-erected, commemorating the late Tony Drake. He was Gloucestershire's arch-Rambler, so it's a fittingly elaborate memorial to someone who lived to fight for rights of way.

As it's my common complaint, when out walking, that you never see many farm workers these days, I was glad, passing Randall's Farm, to spot one in a field with just one cow in it. Wearing the traditional long coat, little seen nowadays, he gave her a pat, no doubt to say he was waiting for her calf to appear. Our path ran alongside the fence of another field containing a whole herd. "Oh, look at that handsome bull! I shouldn't much fancy being in that field." "Unless you were a cow of course."

Leaves are at their best, many still on the trees, but enough underfoot to scuff with satisfaction. It was shirt-sleeve balmy, with little wind - the culmination of some extraordinary October weather.

Aldsworth

After so much sunshine recently, it was a disappointment to have to walk in wet conditions this morning. Six of us set off at a brisk - for us - pace from the Sherborne Arms, describing a circle with a circumference of about the same number of miles. On a fine day, the views might be worth it, but in the drizzle, and with mud underfoot (why don't all farmers restore the footpaths across their land?), it was not one of our happier outings.

Less than a week ago, a friend had been telling us about a couple we both knew who had recently moved to Cirencester, a town of some 20,000 inhabitants. And it transpires that two of our regular walkers live in that same estate and have already met them.

Because of the weather, my camera stayed covered up during the walk: I took the photograph of Aldsworth church, visible for a mile or more when driving from Northleach, back in July.

Uley

We lunched today at the Old Crown - sitting at the self-same table as I did before the Owlpen concert in July. The friends we met there are - I guess - used to rather more upmarket pub food than Uley provides, but I reckon it's adequate, and the atmosphere is a good deal more pubby than in most other places in the Cotswolds these days.

Afterwards, on another mild, dry afternoon, three of us walked down and across to Owlpen, calling into the church before skirting round the Manor, the most idyllic setting in Gloucestershire that I know of. We watched a newly-hatched calf stagger to its feet and make shaky progress towards the food supply.

Sticky moments

A farm building at Climperwell, a euphonious place name if any there is, sports this weather vane, which I spotted today towards the end of our walk. Three of us set out in the mist from Foston's Ash, traipsing through more mud than we have been used to for many a month.

But what has become of the driver of this handsome combo? Was he perhaps distracted while bowling along through nearby Buckle Woods, and - failing to anticipate a bend - ejected from his carriage? A sticky moment. Similar indeed to the one that we so nearly experienced in those same woods en route to our rendezvous this morning.

It put me in mind of the first of three major brushes with death I have had in the past forty years: it took place forty years ago today. At about 8 p.m. I was driving home from Kingham Station when, near Bledington - a fitting location - I ran into the back of an ill-lit farm trailer. Thank God for seat belts!

Season of mists

We walked up to Barber Wood this morning, with cobwebs lining the track that rises gradually across the contours above Coldwell Bottom. The mist all but obscured the pylons on the skyline the other side of the Churn Valley, which normally take so much away from one of my favourite Gloucestershire views.

Disturbing the peace

Not many places in Gloucestershire can be as tranquil as the upper reaches of the valley of the Holy Brook. Five of us were walking that way this morning, starting from Miserden - just the smallest sprinkling of ran could be felt for a minute or two, but otherwise yet anther fine, warm Autumn day. There were no mushrooms, but nuts and blackberries were gleaned, and above Honeycombe Farm a touch of Spain and Italy too: for Our Leader produced Cava, olives and sun-dried tomatoes, no less, from his backpack, with which we all celebrated his reaching that milestone that is three-quarters of a century.

Returning via Sudgrove, I had a word with Lawrence and admired his pumpkins. I had spotted his Concorde weather vane earlier in the year when we walked that way, and wondered what connection Concorde might have with such an outpost of civilisation (pace Ian McEwan). "There used to be a cat up there," Alex told me, "but I've always been a plane spotter: Concorde was based at Fairford during its testing, and when it came over and they were playing cricket, the game ground to a halt. I found the image in a weather vane pattern book, so I ordered one to replace pussy." From purr to roar.

Ashleworth

I had intended that we should walk in Eldersfield parish, and lunch at the Butcher's Arms there, but they can't apparently do dishes without garlic - so, no good for one of the trio of us out today. Instead, we drove to nearby Ashleworth and lunched at The Queens Arms there - excellent food and very accommodating on the allergy front.

Ashleworth feels spread out as a village: we never seemed far away from housing, but it wasn't obtrusive, and some of the architecture was interesting, a mixture of brick and stone. The tithe barn, of course, is magnificent, but the church next door was worth exploring too. Hard to get a photograph of it, though, as the graveyard is a jungle.

Inside, you can see the glorious mixture of styles so typical of our village churches. I liked particularly this fragment of mediaeval glass, representing the beloved disciple.

Both barn and church were deliciously cool on yet another Indian Summer day.

Painswick

Five of us walked from Sheepscombe this morning. The only steep bit was at the outset, up through Lord's Wood. But worth it for the view down towards Painswick.

Four Gentlemen of Leisure

A quartet of Wednesday walkers started out from Leighterton this morning, and made for the Silkwood at Westonbirt, not a walk I knew. Though the sun didn't come out till later, it was very warm, and the scenery varied. Rather too many stiles for my liking.

I've come home this evening from an RSC live relay (to our Cineworld). Another first for me - Two Gentlemen of Verona. Though it's early Shakespeare, with a far from plausible plot, there are still plenty of good lines, and they came across well in Simon Godwin's production. Michael Bruce's music played a big part in creating a playful atmosphere, though no setting of the celebrated song is ever going to be a match for Schubert's An Sylvia.

Wednesday walking resumed

Two of us only set out from Staunton yesterday, in the direction of Hasfield. It's not an area I knew - on foot anyway - and I underestimated the difficulties: a longish walk, for instance, through the prevalent crop, in order to avoid brambles and nettles - yes, it was maize as high as an elephant's eye (and on O what a beautiful morning).

We felt the need for lunch, so started the return leg before reaching Hasfield. Instead, to visit the church, we drove by on our way home: well, not "by" exactly - it's very tucked away, but worth discovering if only for a fine outlook from its graveyard. In fact, there are good views all round. At one stage, I was surprised by finding Gloucester Cathedral in my sights, when I fancied I'd be looking towards Cheltenham.

I read today of the death of Lauren Bacall. She thought "your whole life shows in your face and you should be proud of that." By Staunton church, with its 2,000-year-old yew tree, I bumped into a not-quite-so-old friend, who seemed to bear her out.

Tangled legs

The day started early and badly. I fell down stairs. As I was carrying half a mug of tea, it seems to have splashed every surface of the hall. Luckily, it happened only two steps from the bottom, so it was just my pride that was wounded.

Caroline (leaving early for Oxford) dropped me by Leckhampton church before seven so I could walk the dog for her. The light was good, but taking photographs I always find flare a problem when there's low sun. Perhaps it's the lingering influence of our visit to the Yorkshire Sculpture Park last week that these two logs caught my eye, lying by the path on my way back home.