ON STREATLEY HILL

I'm in the garden. The sky is that kind of barbecue blue you get on summery evenings. White wispy clouds and vapour trails cris cross - alto cumulus gliding gently and silently over the world. Next door are playing R&B tunes, birds are tweeting and there's a distant sound of children playing somewhere. It's all very pleasant.

I took my Mum to Streatley Hill today. It's not really called Streatley Hill - but it turns out that everyone I've ever known calls it that, so it kind of is. Anyway, it's a great place to walk, to think and to see the Thames Valley dappled in light and shade. It overlooks Goring and Streatley, where the river meanders through the trees, fields and hedgerows like a silver ribbon.

The light was perfect today. I don't know what it is about this time of year - the sun sits high and casts short deep shadows on grass that's only just losing its colour and still clings to a youthful green. The sky was cloudless. In the distance the sun picked out the Water Tower which gleamed on the horizon. 

They're playing Unbreak My Heart by Toni Braxton next door now, the slow version - just to remind of me of circa 1996, which is thoughtful. Good year, that. I might pop my head over the fence and ask if they have Gangsta's Paradise by Coolio.

Speaking of memories, my Mum reminded me today that the very first thing we did in the Year 2000 was to go up Streatley Hill. Our whole family decided we wanted to watch the sunrise somewhere special. We set up a barbecue, brought champagne glasses and toasted the new millenium. It was freezing.

Not so today. A warm breeze shook the trees and tickled the grass. We sat there on a bench for a while, both of us knowing that we were forming new memories - storing them up for some time when they might be useful, when we're in need of a little tenderness. I can highly recommend it.