The world from my window

Once upon a time, when I was fit, I cycled up to the most wonderful place on earth. It's in West Dorset and, when you get to the top, you feel like you're looking out across Narnia. A patchwork of fields, a huddle of houses here and there, ancient hillforts in the distance and then out to the sea, the coastline curling round towards Devon as if Dorset's saying, 'I'll let you into this view, this photo opportunity, but only if you're on your best behaviour.' The spot in question is Eggardon Hill, a magical, mystical, wonderful place owned, in the main, by the National Trust . Years ago, I watched a storm from here, as it circled and brooded its way over Bridport several miles to the south west. The lightning lit up a dark sky and, up on Eggardon where it was as dry and calm as an empty millpond, it was like being in charge of the weather. Twenty years ago, I rode up the long, steep hill to Eggardon on my touring bike without getting off. I was as ...

In Dorset, the A35 road sweeps up over Askers to reveal the most beautiful view of all. After looking to the left and the sweep of the Jurassic Coast, the corner of your right eye is drawn to Eggardon and the lush hinterland, with Lewesdon and Pilsdon - the twin peaks known to sailors as the Cow and Calf - Coney's Castle and Lambert's Castle acting like pulsating echoes in the distance. And the electricity pylons march like giants through Narnia, giving perspective to a landscape so dear to me I almost cry. There is a sense of drama in the air. And then down to West Bay, to check on the boat, a pizza to share at Ellipse and then a look at some of the locations for the hit ITV series Broadchurch  as a real-life SoCo gathers clues next door after a drugs bust.   Waiter, waiter, there's a body in my soup . It's a strange experience, because not long ago this was my manor. We wind our way back to Lush Places, that Brigadoon village in Jack and the B...

The world from my window this morning is bright and cheerful. May is absolutely the best month, with the lime green leaves of trees on the village green and the gypsy lace, pink campions, bluebells and yellow dead nettles along the banks of the lanes. The fields are full of buttercups, dandelion clocks, cuckoo flowers and speedwell. There are wallflowers in pots outside my front door, a huge sign on the playground fence advertising a fete tomorrow (complete with snail racing and paintballing) and the remains of some tulips next to the village pump. The latter is due for another twee revamp in the shape of concrete containers filled with bedding plants, courtesy of a villager who thinks it makes the square look nice. Please God don't let her put bizzy lizzies there again. I can't abide them. Begonias make my flesh creep. The tree pollen causes me to sneeze, as does the dust created by Mr Grigg as he puts the finishing touches to our front room, now that the builder (with shirt...