It gets dark

I'm in a little village outside Malvern in a ramshackle Victorian house watching logs burning on an open fire. The smell is intense. It reminds me of Christmases as a child. I suppose there's something a little doleful about an open fire. It implies the onslaught of autumn. The nights are definitely drawing in...

I don't know this part of the world, but its incredibly pretty. It's where Holst, Elgar and Vaughan Williams all come from, and the breathtaking scenery obviously inspired them all.

As the sun set, we drove to the top of the Worcestershire Beacon, slowly snaking our way through the little villages which lined the route. One of them was hosting an art fair and most of the garages in the place had been thrown open and lined with paintings. A hugely eccentric sight.

The higher we drove, the more intensely lime-green everything became. I have seldom seen such beautiful shards of light raining through the over-hanging trees.

We stopped by the side of the road at a fountain which was gushing with water from two taps. This was famous Malvern spring water, and it was free for anyone passing to drink.

My Dad and I walked to the summit of the hill as the sun set. The views were staggering. They say you can see three counties from there; Shropshire, Worcestershire and Herefordshire, but I'm convinced you could see as far as Wales to the West and Oxfordshire and Warwickshire in the East. The sun was disappearing behind dark clouds and throwing all sorts of peculiar patterns of light across the plain. What was really interesting about the view up there was to see how the ridge of hills had created a "rain shadow". The fields to the east were yellowing and brittle whilst the fields to the west were much greener and better watered. Intriguing.

A rare photograph of my father climbing up the hill

And here he is at the top...