Our March short break began before it had even really started – as we went to the station to catch the train to Cromer, piles of last year’s dead Hollyhocks were spawning a big emergence of overwintered Firebugs – proof if any was needed that garden clippings are best kept in the garden whenever possible…

And so it was up to Cromer, across the flatscapes of East Anglia. We have a fondness for out-of-season seaside resorts (see Blackpool, this time last year), especially just before the season starts, when they are a hive of activity, the smell of paint and slosh of whitewash, the clank of scaffolding, but without the crowds.

Putting on the make-up is of course so much more than cosmetic: the unforgiving wind and salty air corrodes the very fabric of the town, threatening livelihoods but producing ample subjects for the camera:

Think Cromer, think crabs – and yes of course I had plenty, including a sumptuous sandwich from the Crab Pot Café. And then think Pier, dominating the view from any stretch of the shoreline:

The beach provides the sounds of nature, gulls calling, waves swishing up the sand and rattling the flints, which in turn become the building blocks of the town.

The church, as much a seamark as a place of worship, was worth a visit for its stained glass which suffused the columns with pastel shades as the sun streamed through:

And so to our hotel, the Cliftonville, a place we had decided to stay in after a drink there last summer amid the Art Nouveau styling. And we were not at all disappointed – our top-floor room with an uninterrupted sea view was simply outstanding, and one we would like to return to as a base for exploring the Norfolk coast by train and bus.

Breakfast and lunch, too, made the stay memorable, but prize of place food-wise must go to the Red Lion Hotel where we ate one evening, a memorable meal of fine dining but substantial portions – for me, crab risotto and cod; for Jude, rigatoni with goat’s cheese and butternut squash. A little more expensive than we normally pay, but really worth it for one of the very best meals we have had in our years of monthly short breaks.

From our room, and indeed all along the seafront, the view of the North Sea and its offshore wind farms was both ever-changing but reassuringly constant. And the gardens along the front, at least in sunshine, buzzed with bees, including  Hairy-footed Flower-bees visiting Rosemary. The other insects along the front, including on the hotel windows, were numerous Birch Catkin Bugs, presumably a spring emergence, but from where? Not a birch tree in sight!

The first day was grey and cold, the second promised to be much sunnier and warmer. So it was out on the train to Sheringham, breakfast as we passed through the flinty town, and down to the beach. Turnstones flocked on the rocks, a Greater Black-backed Gull defended its fish carcase against the diminutive Herrings, the sun was shining and it was already very warm, but offshore to the west hung a sea fret…

So we headed east along the beach, taking in the glacial geology on the way, boulder clay, sands and chalk rafts, the mobility colonised by Colt’s-foot, the flowers opening to welcome Spring.

As we continued towards West Runton the beach started to steam, tendrils of fog rising up from the sand. And looking behind, the wall of fret was upon us. Colour was sucked out of the world, and our destination disappeared, leaving the revetments as stark sculptures worthy of Easter Island or Antony Gormley. Totally ethereal, and although the blue dot on the phone offered some reassurance, it felt not without a frisson of some primordial danger as the fret moved around, shapeshifting on a whim.

But still the beach announced its geological provenance, with platforms of chalk emerging from the sand, and many huge beach flints, including some in the mysterious bowl-shaped form of a paramoudra.

Once at West Runton though, it was back onto dry ground, albeit with fog swirling, building and fading at every turn. We had seen from the map the intriguing prospect of Beeston Regis Church, marooned among the caravan sites, though finding it in the fog was more by luck than anything….

The church was simple and pleasant, with some ornate wooden mouldings as a counterpoint to the calm interior.

And on the churchyard wall, there was Henbit Dead-nettle alongside its more common relative and Hairy Bittercress …

… while along the lanes as we dropped down to West Runton, there were flowering willows, both male and female catkins providing sustenance to bumblebees and hoverflies; White Comfrey; Tree Lupins complete with big, fat aphids and their camp followers; and everywhere Alexanders…

And so into the Village Inn for a welcome pitstop!

From there it was back along the cliff top, at least in those places where the Norfolk Coast Path hasn’t fallen into the sea and isn’t blocked by unfriendly fences. The fog still rolled in, creating frost-bows from certain vantage points, while sandy soils up high gave the feel of perched sand dunes, the turf stained red with Mossy Stonecrop and acid-green by Early Meadow-grass.

After an ice-cream stop in East Runton, it was then back onto the beach for the final stretch back to Cromer. In the by now hot sunshine, waves rolled and lapped gently to shore and several pairs of Fulmars canoodled in their cliffed retreats.

For our final day, we headed east from the town, where it feels much more wrapped up in maritime history …

… out and up to Cromer Lighthouse, giving the lie to the assumption that Norfolk is flat! Rolling hills, all part of the moraine from the endpoint of the last ice advance, clad in the richness of flowering gorse and with woods, including lots of Holm Oak over a ground layer of Alexanders. Just a pity the weather had closed in a bit, leaving the views back over the town rather hazy.

All that was left was to find our way down to the beach via the precipitous steps, through the goblin-forest wilderness of twisted Sycamores and again Alexanders, along with Hart’s-tongue Fern, and salt-pruned, skeletal scrub.

Our purpose? To try and locate the Banksy artwork on a concrete groyne. Which we did, just, with the help of a friendly passer-by, although sadly time and tide have taken their toll and the social comment about the prevalence of second homes and overpriced beach huts in a place like this are now lost. I say ‘sadly’, but Banksy probably knew it wouldn’t last, and wanted it that way, their ultimate comment on the impermanence and futility of art?

Which just leaves me with a paean to Alexanders, already mentioned several times, and abundant (to some, overabundant) along this coastal belt.

But to those who decry the ‘aggressive’ spread of this non-native plant, I would say ‘what would early-emerging insects do without it?’ As climate collapse continues apace, insects are now active at times they never were before, active and needing sustenance. Which the ‘native’ British countryside simply cannot do. As a bridge betwen eras (the one to come being especially uncertain), Alexanders helps sustain life.

And so it was for our stay, from fungal rust galls to ants, Honeybees, hoverflies and Gorse Shield-bug…

… right through to the mining bees, iconic insects that nest on the nearby sandy cliff slopes, including the rare (but increasing) Early Colletes (aka Bunny Bee).

For other blogs extolling the virtues of Alexanders, see Lockdown diary: In praise of Alexanders… | Chris Gibson Wildlife and Alexanders: the interloper our countryside needs… | Chris Gibson Wildlife .

That was a surprisingly fun short break, to a place we knew already, but staying there helped us to more than scratch the surface, to find the real Cromer. Roll on the next in our series … only five days to wait!

After a short-notice teaching cancellation and sight of the forecast for glorious sunny weather, we marked the spring equinox with a leisurely train ride to Cambridge, a day in the Botanic Garden, topped off with a lovely meal in the Station Tavern. What a great way to celebrate the season!

As always we were on the look out for wildlife other than the plants, and as the warmest day of spring so far, it was not surprising there were quite a few sparkling Brimstones in action, along with singing Goldcrests in several places. A few things stood still long enough for photos including the planthopper Eupteryx decemnotata, a species first recorded in this country as recently as 2002 and the rarer of two similar bugs found on sages and their relatives, and an early-season, free-range micromoth Diurnea fagella.

Other good finds included a Tree Bumblebee seeking a nest hole; indeed queen bumbles, primarily Buff-tailed, were everywhere, albeit concentrated on certain forage plants, most notably Nonea lutea and the winter-flowering heathers. Honeybees too were widespread and active, on heathers and Scilla especially, and drinking water from the ponds.

Otherwise, there were ladybirds making more ladybirds, Moorhens stalking the reedy patches, and the obvious galls of the fly Taxomyia taxi on Yew.

Being so early in the year, many of the wonderful array of trees in the garden were devoid of leaf, but all the better to show off their often distinctive shapes and bark. This was apparent even at our traditional first stop, outside the tea room, where the sunlit awning projected the tracery of branches, not fully formed leaves.

And then the other natural art in the garden: the lichens on the branches, the sun splashing everything with rich colours. Who needs flowers?

But of course there were signs of many of the trees and shrubs springing into life, producing flowers (some even in fruit), whether wind-pollinated danglers …

… or more showy insect-pollinated blooms.

Mistletoe was also really obvious on the bare trees and shrubs, very golden-green in colour, especially male plants. The two sexes have rather different flowers, the females small with a rounded ovary, males larger with more splayed, fleshy petals on which the pollen is borne directly.

And although many of the beds were still quite bare, having had their spring-clean, there were still plenty of exciting perennials in flower….

… but particularly interesting to me were the flowering Mandrake (an old friend, and a plant rich in folklore that I used to know from my spring trips to parts of the Mediterranean), Yellow Star-of Bethlehem (a scarce native that I have never yet tracked down in the wild) and the beautiful wild form of Wild Daffodil, lemony tepals contrasting with the deeper yellow trumpets.

And all that was left were the glorious glasshouses, where an even more diverse array of flowers, fruits, foliage and forms can be found, where you can visit almost every continent without burning up carbon, and immerse oneself in the fragile beauty of the botanical world around us.

A short break to recover from Disneyland Paris! What better than a two centre, two night break, in Guildford and then Arundel. A common theme of both towns is that they are overlooked by brooding edifices, none of which would look remotely out-of-place in Disneyland!

In Guildford, it is the cathedral, started before WW2 and completed some 30 years later. Indeed, this edifice is why we chose to visit Guildford, having seen it in a Guardian article about 20th century architectural marvels… And there it was, on the hilltop, especially impressive in sunlight with dark clouds behind.

A veneer of bricks give it a ‘1950s water treatment works’ vibe, but it is undeniably awesome…

And then inside to where the bricks are changed for monumental stone, surrounding towering heights…

Without the patina and wear of the ages, it may lack warmth as a building, but the space is undeniably impressive. What it must be like to hear that space filled with organ music we can only imagine, but it will be on our radar for a future trip.

Largely clear class windows lend an airy feel, with visual interest added by texturing within the glass to create transient sculpting of light as the sun shines through.

The cathedral is set atop Stag Hill, the local peak of the North Downs. Evidently the air here is relatively clean, to judge from the density and diversity of bark-dwelling lichens and mosses.

But Guildford we found (actually much to our surprise) is much more than its cathedral. We had no idea we would be visiting such a vibrant town, with all sorts of historic buildings, including guildhall and hospital.

A castle as well, set amid a pleasant garden, with spring bulbs and flowering Hazel, including one heavily infested with the mites that case the Hazel Big-bud gall. And on the older walls, mostly chalk from the quarry below, again a range of lichens.

Churches too were interesting, especially St Nicolas’, with its magnificent wall painting and  inter-faith links with the Romanian Orthodox church…

… and St Mary’s with some lovely art and modern stained glass.

The river Wey, a tributary of the Thames, runs through the town and was crossed by a ford in historic times, hence the name. Prone to flooding, the lower part of town was at risk of flood again, the river in spate after a day of heavy rain previously.

A few plants in flower included Alder, Cherry-plum and Danish Scurvy-grass, all several days off flowering back home.

And the Weyside pub, by the mill and alongside a canalized section of the river, was a fine place for lunch with a view!

And so through Sussex to Arundel. Here dominating this particular settlement are two Disneyeque edifices, a fairyland castle and the hulking Gothic-style cathedral, straight out of the Addams Family!

Being winter, the castle and gardens were closed, but the outside of the wall had some interesting plants, including Wall Rue and several lichens, including the large, foliose blackish Lathagrium fuscovirens.

The cathedral was dramatic outside, if only for its uncompromising bulk, but actually quite disappointing within, apart from the shapely columns and again the interplay of sunlight, glass and stone:

But much more interesting, betwixt castle and cathedral, was St Nicholas Church, its ecological churchyard and positive messages within about God’s Acre being for nature as much as for people.

Again, the walls and churchyard sculptures had a good range of lichens and mosses:

The town was attractive enough, with flint walls, and plenty of places to eat (La Campania Italian restaurant was especially good, and surprisingly good value, on its Wednesday fish night) or buy trinkets (if not normal day-to-day shopping). And our hotel, the Swan, was an excellent Fuller’s pub which produced a breakfast like no other, including the best black pudding I have ever tasted.

At the river, the Arun was in spate after the same rain system that had affected Guildford.

But again welcome messaging everywhere about nature, pollinators and steps being taken to protect and enhance the natural world. And yes, in the late February sun there were bees and hoverflies taking full advantage of the largesse of the townspeople. A lovely end to a splendid three days away.

Especially in winter, it isn’t always possible to have a break that goes according to plan: flexibility is the watchword! And so it was last weekend, when it was our intention to introduce Eleanor to some of the delights of west London, especially the London Wetland Centre at Barnes, following our lovely trip there on equivalent dates last year…

Firstly, weekends mean the risk of rail replacement buses. And this time it was all the way from Witham to Newbury Park, and an additional hour of travelling time each way. But it did give us the chance to sit under one of the iconic structures of Modernist design, the Newbury Park bus station canopy, in the best lighting conditions: it was shaping up to be a lovely sunny day.

It was still lovely and sunny when we exited the tube at Putney bridge, casting shadows on walls and lighting up the seedheads of Common Reeds by the river.

Moving past the church, we came to into Fulham Palace, itself an impressive building…

…but just as impressive was the walled garden, where on the south-facing wall Clematis cirrhosa ‘Freckles’ was in full, rampant flower and drawing in all manner of insects, most notably lots of queen bumblebees.

Otherwise in the sunny warmth, insects were being attracted to other winter-flowering shrubs such as Mahonia and Laurustinus, while irises, hellebores and snowdrops were there waiting to welcome spring.

In the grounds, there is plenty of dead wood, especially in the natural play area, where various jelly and bracket fungi and King Alfred’s Cakes were all fruiting profusely.

From there it was a lovely walk along the bank of the Thames to our hotel for the night in Hammersmith. This was just across the river from London Wetland Centre and had its share of waterfowl, including numerous dabbling Teals in the shallows:

All that and the frankly obscene number of planes dropping into Heathrow. Has nobody heard of climate collapse? This day of sun was unexpected, coming hard on the heels of storm Éowyn, widely reported as one of the strongest storms ever to have hit our islands. Extremes upon extremes… when will we wake up and take some responsibility for those who will come after us?

As the evening progressed and new weather warnings started to come through, the sting in the tail of Éowyn (or maybe the first vestiges of Storm Herminia?) … the names don’t matter, but the forecast was for much more rain and very strong winds. So next day we decided not to head to the windswept wilds of Barnes, and instead in to the relative shelter of central London, a chance to show Eleanor something she had just learned about at school (the Monument) and iconic buildings like the ‘Walkie-talkie’.

We have planned to take her there at some time, up to the Sky Garden at the very top, but today it was closed, so we continued on to Canary Wharf where the Docklands Museum and especially the Crossrail Place Roof Garden kept us busy, interested, dry and sheltered.

One of the great things of London of course is that there is so much to do, much of it free, such that plans can often be flexible right up to the last minute to help mitigate the worst of our weird weather.

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Eleanor, as so often, was happy everywhere so long as she had a camera to help her navigate through life. And she had three, both our phones and Papa’s bridge camera, all of which were used often deliberately and appropriately.

I may be biased (#ProudPapa) but I just loved her successes, hearing the joy in her voice as she captured the approaching train. Or the pigeons. Or the squirrel ( “it looked at me!”).

The way she explored interesting details of and perspectives on the world around us …

And new for this particular trip her evident fascination with repeated patterns and distinctive textures, both man-made …

… and found in nature.

It is a genuine privilege to try and perceive the world as her seven year-old eyes and brain do.

Our final short break of the year took us to uncharted territory: Maidenhead. While the main reason was a friendship visit, at least the river frontage of the town has always looked alluring, even at high speed, on our rail journeys further west….

… so we booked for a night into the Thames Riviera Hotel, ideally situated on the Thames bank, between the 18th century stone road bridge and Brunel’s 19th century brick railway bridge. The hotel was very comfortable, if uncannily quiet, and did provide us with a sumptuous evening meal: for two of us, lamb shank at its melt-in-the-mouth best.

Next morning we explored the river and its environs. After a sharp frost, it soon got really quite warm in the solstitial sun as we ventured over the border into Buckinghamshire at Taplow. Down leafy lanes, Ivy berries were ripening nicely for late winter bird food and Old Man’s Beard was catching every drop of the low light in its shaggy halo.

Our breakfast destination was the Lake House Café, overlooking a watersports lake, and so probably a whole lot more relaxing at this time of year when the only residents were the ducks, Cormorants and Coots! Breakfast was excellent, as were the views, ever-changing cloudscapes reflected in the tranquil waters.

Then we walked up-river, alongside the Jubilee River, a major flood-relief, only 25 years old but merging seamlessly and naturalistically into the landscape, in a series of habitat improvements designed to offset the effects of developments within the river valley:

Willows and roses were covered in overwintering gall structures, Mistletoe was everywhere, and Red Kites wheeled and mewled around in remarkable numbers, some taking time out in the bankside trees…

Then it was back to the Thames and its islands and locks. Ray Mill Island had more kites, Egyptian Geese and sweetly scented Winter Heliotrope, flowering alongside a remarkably late blooming Ivy bush.

From there it was a very pleasant stroll through the back lanes into the town centre. What of Maidenhead? Well at least it has a clock tower …

Actually, that is unfair. We thought that might be all that there is to it, until in our last hour when we scratched the surface and discovered the waterways that reach into its heart, right up to the High Street, providing interesting photos and mind-bending reflections, along with Grey Wagtails…

Then there are the sculptures, ranging from this Green Man to a hanging gaggle of bats, the latter to celebrate the filming of a Dracula film in the nearby Bray studios (and the sourcing of rubber ‘models’ from the local Woolworths!)….

And a few interesting buildings like the church below, plenty of shops, and a fine pint in the Bear, an old pub still with atmosphere and life (and cheap beer, being a Wetherspoons).

All in all a very fleeting visit but a worthy end to our catalogue of short breaks in places less visited. Roll on 2025!!

Planning short breaks in the winter months is always beset by the short days and of course the risk of inclement weather. For the December trip in our first year of monthly short breaks by train we decided to ignore the weather risk, and simply accept the inevitability of short days (the above ‘sunrise’ photo was taken well after breakfast!) … indeed to face it square on by heading north into even shorter days, and return to Dundee after our fantastic couple of days there last year. The answer is to make the most of good food and drink when it is dark (is that why whisky was invented?) and to take advantage of good short-term weather forecasts and the shelter afforded by museums, churches and trains (and pubs!) to avoid rain, which we did pretty successfully.

With long train journeys bookending our four-day break, it is important to enjoy the travelling. And going north up the East Coast mainline, it is impossible not to enjoy the journey of cathedrals (Peterborough, Durham, York), castles ( Durham, Lindisfarne, Bamburgh, Edinburgh), bridges (Newcastle, Forth, Tay), islands (Farnes, Holy Island, Bass Rock), the Angel of the North and a whole lot more.

So another two nights in the Premier Inn right on the bank of the Firth of Tay: what’s not to love with the low sun only just rising above the horizon, but lighting the Firth in dramatic spectacle?

And it just happens to be a couple of hundred metres from one of our favourite buildings ever, the utterly magnificent V&A. A whale from one angle, the prow of a ship from another, and walking underneath it has all the echoing wilderness of a dripping Scottish sea-cave:

Surrounded by water, it is equally as impressive in reflection…

… and the delights continue after dark.

So impressive that going inside the building is almost disappointing, though the ‘strata’ and (genuine) fossils are a magnificent touch.

As a building the V&A really benefits from the sun creating an ever-changing interplay of light and shade, so it is fortunate that our day and a half of daylight were under blue skies, also great conditions to stroll along the Firth to the Railway Bridge:

The sunlight showed the many monumental buildings in the city centre to their best effect…

… a city centre also filled with public art and sculpture:

Churches, pubs (here the Trades House) and the museum provided us with culture and sustenance…

And for us one very special place was the graveyard known as the Howff, a beautifully unmanicured space, where Death begets Life.

But apart from the gulls and Shags on the Firth, the main other wildlife interest was in the adornments of lichens on pretty much every street tree:

Our next move came about at the recommendation of a friendly street-sweeper who out of the blue came up to us and suggested we visit Broughty Ferry, even giving us the details of how to get there by bus. And as we had a couple of hours before the anticipated arrival of rain, it would have been rude not to. A very lovely peaceful fishing village, with harbour and castle, this kept us very happy.

Rock Pipits, Turnstones and a partially albino Carrion Crow fed along the beach, where Sea Mayweed and Sea Rocket were still clinging to flower, and again lichens added their splashes of colour to the harbour walls:

And as the first rain arrived it was into the delightful Ship Inn, where we tucked in to the very best bowl of Cullen Skink just before the kitchen closed, and essentially decided the treat we would try and recreate for our Christmas lunch this year!

We’ve still not done with Dundee! We will be back again. Even though it sits astride the National Cycle Route 1, the very same as I worked with Sustrans to deliver as its first stage through Wivenhoe some 30 years ago,  we are perfectly content to let the train take the strain!

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All too soon, it was time to head to Perth, the destination for our final night, with dire warnings of Storm Darragh ringing in our ears. Amber warnings were everywhere, for snow just to the north, wind just to the south, and rain all over! And even though the rain came, we largely missed it in the pubs and other place of shelter…

Perth was clearly once a place of considerable wealth, to judge from its buildings, but now it feels as though it has seen much better days.

The same sense of faded glories ran through our hotel (the Salutation), the sight of which on a TV programme originally piqued our interest to stay there – but the excellence of its breakfast in the palatial dining room was undeniable.

The mighty Tay still flows on through Perth, as it has since the city’s heyday, under a lovely sandstone bridge, in which erosion of the sand matrix has left pebbles embedded in relief, like natural braille… what are the rocks trying to tell us?

Lichens once more adorned the rocks and walls, and trees were filled with tseeping Redwings…

And in the backwaters of the mill races (leats) that run though the city, we had excellent views of a Kingfisher, a shaft of brilliance on the dreariest of days.

St Ninian’s Cathedral provided both shelter from the showers and plenty of interest, as did the newly refurbished museum, with some excellent exhibits including the Stone of Scone/aka Destiny in its new permanent home. Similarly the Art Gallery was just the right size, not too big but with enough fascinating art (much by William Gilles) to pass a happy couple of hours.

But lunchtime arrived and it was time to head homewards via Glasgow and the West Coast Mainline as the storm raged further south. Yes, we could see the snow settled on higher ground between Perth and Stirling, and quite a lot of flooding, but for us just a few minutes’ delay. Then into England, a points failure at Penrith added to the delay, but all in all it amounted to just two hours. Not bad really given the severity of the storm and the dire warnings that preceded it – and of course, it meant we got our money back!

Our monthly short breaks often have their genesis from a single place or sight or activity we want to experience, padded out into a two- or three-night stay with other things we think might be of interest in the vicinity, or at least easily accessible by public transport. November’s trip was no exception: for this, we need simply look back to the televised rail journeys of Michael Portillo. Love him or hate him as a politician, it cannot be denied that he opens the eyes of many to the abundant delight of rail.

A few months ago he alighted at East Midlands Parkway. A station in the middle of nowhere – except for that fact that the platform is almost within touching distance of the iconic cooling towers at Ratcliffe-on-Soar power station….

For this one we were hoping for fine sunny weather, and as we left St Pancras, it seemed we were in luck. But by the time we reached Nottinghamshire, the anticyclonic gloom of the past few weeks had closed in again. We shouldn’t have worried: against blue skies or grey, so close up those iconic megastructures cannot fail to inspire awe.

And yes for a few precious moments, the towers lit up as a few shafts of sunlight broke through …

To hear that these cathedrals to power generation are due to be demolished, we knew we just had to visit. And just in time perhaps, as the power station ceased generating at the end of September this year, the very last coal-burning power station still operating in this country.

Of course, it is wonderful to know that such power stations are no longer polluting our world. But do their most obvious manifestation, the cooling towers with their almost sensually curved shape, need to be wiped from the face of the Earth? Surely there is still space for these iconic buildings, if nothing else as a memorial, Lest We Forget the damage inflicted to our planet and its future over the past three or four generations, and the damage inflicted upon human communities by heartless political dogma without effective transitional help towards low-carbon economies.

Every step we took, we were overlooked by the eight brooding, tamed beauties, even down by the River Soar at Redhill Marina, just about the only place within walking distance to find an afternoon cuppa.

A few hundred metres short of its discharge into the Trent, the river here is canalized, with locks, towpaths and barges, the stiller waters rampantly colonized by invasive Floating Pennywort.

In common with seemingly everywhere this year, the valley grasslands abounded in fungi, including fresh cowpats with the orange discs of Cheilymenia stercorea.

There just past the lock was the red hill after which it is named, quite a surprise in the flat valley. And the rocks really are very red, a type of friable mudstone with numerous ramifying seams of fibrous gypsum, up to several centimetres thick.

It could be the gypsum that is imparting a calcareous influence to the soil, with seepages encrusted in tufa, and the slopes festooned in Old Man’s Beard.

Then, after a happy three hours in the middle of nowhere, it was back onto the train and onwards to Nottingham.  What a revelation! As the light stated to fade we were back among canals and warehouses …

… including the welcome Canalhouse Bar, in a former canal museum and still with a narrowboat on show inside the bar.

The Premier Inn, also by the canal in the Island Quarter, was conveniently situated just along from Binks Yard restaurant, which provided us what has to be the very best meal of the many we have tasted on our monthly travels this year. For me it was free-range local pork chop with sautéed potatoes, seared hispi cabbage and a delicious honey mustard dressing, while Jude went for the rainbow salad with all sorts of magical ingredients, topped with fried halloumi strips. We finished off with the richest possible salted chocolate tart, with blood orange sorbet, though pleased we ordered just one with two spoons! And very reasonably priced even with a splendid bottle of Tempranillo… I don’t usually put such foody detail in these blogs, but that really was one of the best of the best, one to be savoured vicariously over years to come.

Next morning, the grey had given way to blue as we headed back along the canal, the sunlight showing the distinctive red bricks to advantage, and contributing to some lovely reflectascapes …

… which were rendered even more exotic by the extravagance of displaying Mandarins.

But there is another side to the city, perched on the red sandstone hills: castle, cathedral, churches, municipal and other monumental buildings looking down over the canal.

Then built into the cliff is the art gallery, Nottingham Contemporary, continuing a centuries-old practice of expanding the city underground into hundreds of caves hewn out of the soft rock.

Used for storage, shelter and industry, we visited the ‘City of Caves’. Perhaps the tours under the castle would have been better organised, albeit no doubt more expensive, but we were left a little disappointed, especially when the wifi signal dropped out and we were left without commentary half way through …

Still we got the drift, and emerged blinking into the bright sunlight into a pop-up garden, full of dahlias, and even in very unprepossessing concrete surroundings, teeming with insect life!

And all that was left to do was head to Ye Olde Trip to Jerusalem, built into the Castle mound, for a good lunch within the beating heart of the underground city.

Next stop further up the Trent valley was Lichfield. Again we had few preconceptions about the place, but very soon realised it is all about the Cathedral, the three spires from every angle looming large over the city and its other historic attractions.

It soon got dark, and even though it wasn’t illuminated, the cathedral made its presence felt, like something from the brushes of Atkinson Grimshaw, the master of nocturnal painting,

Overnight rain came as a bit of a surprise, but by breakfast the sun was out and the skies cobalt blue. First stop of course was the cathedral: up close its many statues, figurines and external decoration lend it an intricate Gothic scariness, the sort of thing we have felt previously in cathedrals such as Cologne.

And no doubt it was not so long ago even more forbidding, before most of the stones were cleaned of the grime of the centuries to reveal the natural red sandstone, which now with lower aerial pollution levels is allowing colonization by mosses, lichens and ferns.

And so inside. The space feels vast, and it comes with all the requisite pillars, ornamentation, stained glass and wall paintings, but both of us felt it lacked a certain indefinable something. We couldn’t fault the warmth of the welcome, but the fabric of the building simply didn’t have it for us.

Out again into the sun, time to stroll around Stowe Pool for lovely reflections, visit Dr Johnson’s house, walk past Erasmus Darwin’s house, and settle down in the Angel pub for a fine local ale. And before we knew it, back to the station and home. But only three weeks until our next trip!

During school holidays, we always like to take our granddaughter Eleanor, aged 6, away for at least one night, to start to show her the world. This week it was to London: always busy, but buzzing and vibrant. And despite the half-term crowds, the only time we were queueing was right at the start, to get on to the cable-car across the Thames. But in fact the wait of nearly an hour was quite fortuitous: we started queuing in heavy cloud and light rain …

… but once aloft the sun came out …

… and by touchdown it was clear blue skies! At least for a few minutes, until the grey gloom settled in once again.

After lunch, it was back under the river to Canary Wharf, the glass cathedrals to business now softened with the newly created and very attractive Eden Dock garden.

Time then before it got dark for the playpark in Greenwich Park before we headed to the Greenwich Premier Inn for a very comfortable night. After breakfast next morning we took the opportunity for a walk around the back of the hotel and a view over Deptford Creek, one of those tidal tendrils of the Thames, once so important for trade and commerce. It may be hemmed in by development, but it must look quite impressive at high water. And there were Mallards and a Grey Wagtail to brighten up the dull day, as well as a team of Large White caterpillars demolishing a cabbage!

The Horniman Museum and Garden was out destination for the second day.

Situated in Forest Hill, it really is on a hill, and we were very pleasantly surprised at the views of London from the top of the garden, snapshots of familiar places between the trees.

What attracted us there was the butterfly house, thinking Eleanor would find that exciting. As of course did we: a great place for taking photographs (once the lenses stopped steaming up) of unfamiliar butterflies and caterpillars, along with tropical flowers and even a Cottony Cushion Scale-insect.

Although the end of October, it was still mild outside so there were insects there as well in the lovely gardens, with ecological plantings, interesting flowers and autumn colours:

Yes, Eleanor did enjoy the butterfly house, although as much for flowers and foliage as for the butterflies as her photos show:

But what really seemed to inspire her efforts with Granny’s phone camera was the garden. We do rather forget that those of smaller stature see the world very differently to us, framed by fences and barriers that we quite literally overlook.

She was clearly taken by some of the more showy flowers …

… but also the colours, patterns and textures of the leaves around her. It is a privilege to share some more of her photos – the world as seen through the eyes of a child!

And then all that was left was a visit to the playpark across the road (‘fun’ is always needed, as well as ‘interesting’), serenaded by squawking hordes of Rose-ringed Parakeets, and home after a lovely couple of days.