When I went for an interview with a lady called Ruth Gill at a huge ad agency in London back when stuff was in black and white and the London tube had wooden escalators, she asked me at the end of the interview what my hobbies were. My reply was ‘ I haven’t got the job have I?’ She was gracious in her reply and said she was sorry ‘No’. I think she used the question to fill the gap after the more serious questions and what’s more she was not remotely interested in what I did in my spare time. I’ve forgiven her.

I’ve never thought of myself as having ‘hobbies’ and ever since have never described what I do between stuff as a hobby. Perhaps I should re name these activities as a Ruth, or a ‘Gill’. ‘Gill’ wins as I can use a description for an activity that I have not really taken up seriously, like the recent bit of stone masonry fun, as ‘Gill Sans’. Perhaps ‘Gill Sans Italic’ would be something that I do as quickly as possible, as it needs to be done, but is not onerous, like ironing. Which I quite like but is not a bloody hobby.

When I retired from my work as a print rep one of my colleagues asked me what I was going to do and then answered herself : ‘ You can do that sketching hobby of yours’ managing to insult me twice by calling my drawings sketching, and naming the activity as a hobby. Ungraciously I replied through grimaced teeth that what I did was drawing, and rather than it being a hobby, it was a calling or religion, thank you very much.It was in retrospect pretty ungracious of me. Sorry Rowena.

Walking and talking ( much better than the singular ) is one of my favourite ‘Gills’ and yesterday it was almost the font of true happiness. A sunny day by the River Severn, chauffuered there in his fancy car by good friend Mike was a near perfect outing. A plan to go to Purton changed by a traffic jam to go to Arlingham right out on the curve of the Severn.

If you are looking for peace and quiet this is the place. Near zero traffic noise and yesterday the visit coincided with the river at high tide. The light was superb and the pre Spring trees and grasses seemed to glow. We heard ( or my phone did ) a meadow pipit, and saw the little yellow flashes of goldfinch as well as circling buzzards giving us the eye.

From the Old Passage Inn the walk follows the River upstream in a big arc, so at one point you look back and think, where’s that place, and it’s Newnham on the far bank from where you started. The Inn is being refurbished by builders to become a pub again, it’s been a restaurant that served small fish on big plates, then a sort of bar cafe to suit walkers, the only passing traffic, and now back to being a pub. Getting customers to make that trip down the long road to the edge of the river is set to give them a challenge. The suspicion is that the new owner is getting permission to put some static caravans on site to let out to holiday makers, so his customers will be on the doorstep. Others up river have some the same, and it seems to work for them.

Mike and I take lots of photographs on our walks, and naturally put the world to rights, but yesterday in this corner of peace, the world was alright for a time.

Here are a few pictures from the day: