Anna Usborne and her donkeys

We wanted to get out for some air and a short walk this afternoon to enjoy the clear light and blue sky that we've had all day. Neither Woodpeckers nor I had anywhere specific in mind, so I drove up the Frome valley to Chalford, where the road takes to the hills and climbs steeply up Cowcombe Hill to the open Cotswold countryside, which is so different from the wooded coombs and valleys where we live.

We took a side road to Frampton Mansell as we looked for something in the landscape that would catch our eye for strolls and blip potential. The woods and fields all now seemed coloured by the starkness of winter. Normally thick hedgerows, thickets and woodland could all be seen through revealing the detailed shapes of the ground.

We drove on slowly along a ridge and were able to see down and across to Oakridge and Waterlane and the curving valley formed by the upper reaches of the River Frome. The road took us to the small hamlet of Sapperton sited at a point where the flat open countryside drops sharply down a steep hillside close to the beginning of the valley's journey to the River Severn and the sea. Woodpeckers noticed the village Hall which we have visited before and she remembered that it was built by significant members of the local arts and craft movement including Ernest Gimson.

I pulled over as soon as I could which turned out to be by the entrance to the only village pub. As we got out we noticed two donkeys tethered to a rail and we thought it might be the celebrated Chalford village donkey. We wandered over to them, carries ready and Helena got in conversation to a man and a woman who had just eaten a pub lunch at table in the garden. Anna and her friend turned out to be their companions having walked them along footpaths and the same road we had driven along from her home on a farm above Chalford.

I took pictures but the donkeys were tied on the far side of the rail in an area of ground reserved for 'Horses only', which made it difficult to photograph them. Right beside this area was an old castiron water pump which probably was accessing a well supplying a horse trough before the advent of engines. It was lovely in the sun and the calm of the quiet village, with the animals waiting somewhat frustratedly.

Anna brought the donkeys to Chalford in 2008 to revive an unique transport service in the village was is perched on the steep northern valley side, where small footpaths provide the access to all the former wool working cottages. The story was widely reported at the time, by the popular press, but the other side of the coin is reflected here Chalfords donkey derby.

After a long chat with Helena, they got up to leave, untethered the donkeys, Chester and Teddy, and set off down the road and the three mile walk home. Although this isn't a great picture, her wave will remind me of meeting with them all! Woodpeckers blipped Teddy as well!

It was a great start to our stroll. The village hall, just fifty yards down the road, was looking a little sad, and a printed pamphlet on its noticeboard explained that an Appeal had been launched to look after the building. It does seem strange that the hall is so unloved, being in one of wealthiest parts of England.

By the church, Helena made a dash for an adjacent classic telephone box which is not only still working, but actually takes coins as well. Close to it, the rather enchanting entrance to the churchyard was also photographed, as were some horses doing their utmost to stretch out to reach the fresh shoots of grass on the far side of the wooden fencing. It must be so annoying for them to see the food but not be allowed to reach it.

And that was that. It was so cold. Time to go home, although we did take a lovely long route along old droving roads, narrow lanes and holloways. We crossed open farm land whose field were edged with cotswold stone walls, or thick old hedges, which had nearly turned into woodland. We cut and dived down steep lanes to cross streams in dense woodland, surrounded by old woodbanks coated in thick green mosses. From Duntisbourne to Edgeworth, we went past Wishanger Manor and Miserden, and reached The Camp where we joined another old but direct route taking us through Bisley and back to Stroud. Finally a cup of tea, a slice of walnut bread and some Christmas cake capped a fine sunny winter's afternoon. The fire is lit, I have been given a Rum and soda drink, and all is well.