The One with the Sea of Yellow, a Pink Church, and a Random Yacht (Oh… and Day Two in the Hills!)
Alfie the Jackapoo and I rolled into the sleepy village of Dymock last night, Sid the Van came to a stop just around the corner from the rather lovely Dymock Church. I had visions of a peaceful night, tucked away in this postcard-perfect corner of Gloucestershire. Alfie slept contentedly, blissfully unaware that I was being serenaded (read: assaulted) by an enthusiastic bell-ringing crew that sounded like they were auditioning for Britain’s Got Talent: Medieval Mayhem Edition. Ding. Dong. Merrily… all. Night. Long.
Morning broke. Or rather, Alfie did.
At 5 am, his internal alarm clock (blessedly reliable) declared it was time for urgent sniffing and business. I stumbled out of the van, blinking like a mole, mug of coffee in one hand, poop bag in the other. Praise be for mobile WiFi, because even in a signal dead zone, the magical little box in Sid lit up and said: “You may now check the weather.” Sunshine ahead. Thank you, daffodil gods! 🙌
By 7:30 am, I had what can only be described as a Julia idea – you know, one of those slightly bonkers but brilliant sparks that starts with “I’ll just have a quick check…” and ends with marching across open countryside at speed. I wanted to scope out that notorious section of the trail – the one that, last time, had all the charm of a cow spa. (Or was it a poo lagoon? Honestly, it was less ‘walkway’ and more ‘agricultural swamp’.)
Off we trotted. Me in my boots, Alfie doing his trademark zigzag zoomies. Two miles in, I had the internal debate: Turn back or risk being late? But I was so close! And I couldn’t not know…
Victory! The infamously mucky tunnel was bone dry. Not even a pong. Just a delightfully random, rusting combine harvester guarding the path like a mechanical dragon. I whooped. Alfie sneezed.
Back we hoofed it – and made it just in time to greet 16 daffodil-chasers, all smiles, boots, and anticipation. Round-robin intros, a quick walk briefing, and off we went into the golden countryside.
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Top Moments from the Daffodil Day
🌳 An orchard full of mistletoe – in March. Gloucestershire, you rebel. Seasonal confusion at its finest.
🌼 Daffodils. EVERYWHERE. In woods, in fields, along verges. It was like walking through a romantic poet’s fever dream. Wordsworth would’ve cried.
⛴️ A yacht… in a garden. Not near water. Just chilling there like it belonged. Gloucestershire continues to confuse and delight.
🏡 Kempley village – tiny, quirky, utterly delightful.
⛪️ St Mary’s Church – pink on the outside, 12th-century frescoes on the inside. England’s oldest wall paintings, apparently. Think early Banksy with biblical themes.
🌳 Yew tree trivia from Paula: Yews are toxic to cows. Hence, they were planted in churchyards to stop graveyard grazing. Who knew cemetery landscaping had such deadly strategy?
💋 The Boob-Bouncer Kissing Gate. Ergonomic design fail. If you’re vertically blessed or chestily gifted, this gate will make things awkward. Hilarity (and video footage) ensued.
🐾 Alfie met Winnie, a four-month-old cocker spaniel with the energy of five espressos. Friendship formed instantly. A sniff, a tail wag, and it was zoomies forever.
🥪 Lunchtime at 1:10pm – sunshine, sandwiches, a patch of grass, and the joy of a sit-down. One of life’s perfect pauses.
📸 Post-lunch shenanigans included my attempt to film everyone “popping out of trees” like forest ninjas. The result? Somewhere between comedy gold and Blair Witch.
💃 Cheryl and Gillian skipped down the path like schoolgirls set free. It was infectious joy. We tried to list Barry Manilow songs to match the mood. Made it to four before giving up and switching to ABBA.
Final stretch: back through the dry (hallelujah!) tunnel, along the disused canal, under leafy arches. We perfected our silly walks, talked life, and soaked up the late afternoon sun. Roughly 10 miles all in. Alfie, with his canine detours and side quests, probably did 15. He was one happy, dusty doggo.
Day Two – The Malverns Call (aka The Hills are Alive… with Wheezing)
After another night parked outside a church (with fingers crossed for no encore performance from the bell-ringers), Alfie and I woke ready for Round Two – the South Malvern Hills.
Let me tell you now: this walk was not messing about. Blow-down trees, lung-busting climbs, and some truly epic terrain made this hike a bit of a beast. But oh, was it worth it. The views were the kind that make you pause mid-pant and say “Wow” out loud.
Despite ominous forecasts, we missed the rain entirely! Lunch was enjoyed on the highest peak – wind-free, blue skies, and nothing but good company… well, mostly good. Let’s just say, if you were sitting next to a certain unnamed lady, you may have experienced an unexpected breeze of the digestive kind. 🤭
Alfie? He took the hills like a champ. Bounding up slopes, trotting ahead, then circling back as if to say, “Come on, slowpokes!” He had a weekend of adventure, daffodils, new dog friends, and now hills to climb – what more could a pup want?
By the time we reached the final descent, we were all feeling it – the good kind of ache that says, you did something epic today.
Alfie curled up in the van and was snoring before I’d even taken off my boots. He didn’t stir once on the drive home.
Two Days. One Jackapoo. A Sea of Yellow. A Pink Church. One Random Yacht.
What a weekend. Thank you to everyone who came along – for your smiles, your energy, your Barry Manilow knowledge, and your excellent gate navigation.
Until next time… bring snacks, bring friends, and always watch out for suspicious yachts.