Splendid walking weather today though ground gloopy in parts from snow-melt. An auspicious start as the silver-tongued Beaumont sweet-talks the gullible car-park attendant at Westonbirt to waive the £5 parking fee if we promise to not look at any trees on our way through. An anxious 20 minute wait for the tardy Vaughan who finally appears apologetically over the horizon astride his trusty collapsible bike.
Today's walk takes us initially past the pretty Cherington lake where snowdrops crowd the surrounding woods. This being Royal country with Highgrove and Gatcombe nearby Kerslake is in a fever of excitement at the possibility of spotting a Royal. Each approaching walker is scrutinised for signs of regal bearing but, alas, all prove as common as the muck through which we trudge. (A note on muck: gaiters are obviously the order of the day but only Leslie has the sense to wear them. Kerslake dismisses them as 'gay', Beaumont hurled his down in frustration after 10 minutes off trying to get them on and Vaughan merely retains his cycle clips.)
Through the perky little village of Avening and up gradually ascending fields with fine views across the valley to Gatcombe Park. Anne no show. Inconsiderate farmers have ploughed up several paths and planted crops. Beaumont insists on his ancient rights of way and we plod on with clod-laden boots. The route skirts the estate of Chavenage house and we are confronted by two eleven-year olds with shotguns who eye us thoughtfully and warn us to be 'wary' - there's shooting going on. We hurry through a copse and cross a delightful green valley steeped in solitude and calm. At the top of the opposite slope the distant spire of Tetbury church boldly pierces the skyline. We pass Cotswold mansions and cottages just wallowing in their own deliciousness and flaunting snowdrops and celandines all over the shop. They love themselves so much we want to give them a slap.
The last bit takes us round the edge of the Arboretum then through to the visitors' centre. We refuse to return the trees' glances and sit in the warm sunshine at the centre cafe sipping coffee bought from the car-park fund. Young Roly and old Mitzi gratefully lower their mud-encrusted bellies to the floor and rest their tiny legs.
Bird of day: meadow pipit
Tree of day: ash
Think we missed a trick with those two gun toters - should have enlisted them and changed title of the walk to the Macmillan March
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