And so, post walk on the hills, to Little Malvern Priory for a quick fossick while the man- and dog-folk waited in the car park. Very lovely it looked too, despite the drilling noise emanating from the kitchen area, where a man was hard at work re-fitting.
And very compact, having never housed more than ten or twelve monks at any one time.
Here's all the displaced kitchenalia stacked around the font, which is apparently of no special interest though I like the fact that an old column has clearly been recycled in its making.
There was specially interesting stuff there too, though, like the 14th century tiles that were made in the grounds of nearby Great Malvern Priory.
And the glass. I liked the glass very much. Here's the East Window of 1480-82 ...
... with its depiction of Elizabeth of York ...
... and her son, King Edward V (of Princes-in-the-Tower fame).
I also loved the combination of mediaeval and modern glass in the window on the north side of the nave ...
... where you have a fragment of 14th century glass, thought to represent God the Father ...
... and the day's first unexpected onslaught of poetry, in the form of roundels of modern stained glass, depicting the priory ...
... the 14th century poet William Langland (who, it turns out, might even have been a monk here) ...
... and the eponymous hero of his poem 'The Vision of Piers Plowman'.
'Learn to love and leave all other'
I also found the dimensions of the building intriguing.
It turns out that much of the original building has disappeared, including the side chapels, the ruins of which are still visible.
The effect is of a building that is Saxon in shape, although it's a fair bit later, having been constructed in the 12th century. I absolutely loved it.
And this is where the visit took a downturn.
'The garden is NOT open,' a cross posh person shouted as he advanced from the direction of the Court, 'even though the MAN doing the WORK in the KITCHEN has LEFT THE GARDEN DOOR OPEN. He SHOULDN'T have. Because it ISN'T OPEN TODAY.'
Now, I understand the concept of days off, but there are kindlier ways of giving someone their marching orders.
And let's face it, if the privilege of living in places of historical importance were allotted according to merit, all the nurses, teachers, carers and cleaners in the country would be holed up courts and castles.
In any event, I left swiftly, pausing only to make sure the door was still open.
Back in the car we decided that in view of our early start and subsequent exertions, coffee and tea cakes were in order, so we headed over the Worcestershire/ Herefordshire border to Ledbury.
Not having planned to come here, we found ourselves wandering up the nearest picturesque street.
Now, Ledbury is famous for poetry because of its poetry festival, but that takes place in July, so we weren't expecting more happy poetical accidents.
But look! John Masefield!
Yes, it turns out that the erstwhile Poet Laureate came from these parts. Rather a long way from The Sea he used to Must Go Down To, if you ask me.
The lane terminated in the grounds of the parish church of St Michael and All Angels so I had a Quick Pop Inside ...
... only to discover another treasury of stained glass, which rather delayed me.
My favourites were the Morris & Co windows. (No surprises there then.) The Good Shepherd window was made in 1913 to a design by Edward Burne Jones ...
... with The Nativity in the Sanctuary also dating from the early 20th Century.
I also loved the nonchalant St Michael and the dragon in Christopher Whall's beautiful window, which reminded me of St George and the dragon in East Harptree Church ... not surprising, perhaps, given that Karl Parsons, who designed the latter, was a pupil of, and assistant to, the former.
I wished I could get a better look at the Whall window depicting St Martin of Tours, who features so heavily in the Arts and Crafts Heaven that is St Martin's in Scarborough, but visitors are asked respectfully not to enter the Sanctuary, which is fair enough. Here's the glimpse I had.
There was also some glass by Charles Kempe, and some mediaeval glass, as well as the usual skulls and tombs and so on. I only really had time for a quick skim around but it was all quite magnificent.
The Skynner family tomb, c1631
More Skynners
Tomb of the infant John Hamilton Martin who died in 1851
I asked the steward if there was any connection in the church with John Masefield. She said that she had heard a story that the family had been asked whether they would consent to the baptistery being renamed the Masefield Chapel, but refused permission, having fallen out with the vicar.
John is buried in Westminster Abbey.
The 17th century font which is much more pleasing than the 19th century one currently in use
Time to go ...
... but there was one more poetic encounter on the way back to the car park, this one with Elizabeth Barrett Browning, who made her home in Ledbury for a time. This is the Barrett Browning Institute, which is a memorial to her.
'Earth's crammed with heaven. And every common bush afire with God. And only he who sees takes off his shoes; The rest sit round it and pluck blackberries.'
Or possibly a Four and then Two Of Them Again Raven Walk ... ? Anyhow, it doesn't really matter because we were up on the ridge south of Upper Wyche (whence we had headed north on our previous Malverns walk), ignoring the instructions I'd printed off that suggest you do the lower woodland section of the circular route first, in favour of seeing the sunrise ...
... if, that is, there was going to be one through all the cloud.
east over Worcestershire
north to Worcestershire Beacon
Oh but in all directions, it was beautiful.
south to Pinnacle Hill and beyond
west over Herefordshire to Wales
We'd crawled out of bed at 4am, pausing only for a cup of tea ...
... so breakfast should have been a priority but we just walked for a time, beguiled by the blue, autumnal light.
Perseverance Hill and Jubilee Hill were already behind us when we stopped on Pinnacle Hill, at the site of what is commonly described as two possible round barrows.
A drooling Ted, who'd spotted a young rabbit up ahead, had to make do with broken off bits of homemade quiche.
Sounds were magnified in the stillness. The ratchet of a cockerel, the mewling and puking of a buzzard, ravens and crows, the bleating of nearby sheep, a church clock somewhere below us striking seven ...
... and the yelp of a border collie who's just nuzzled an electrified fence, poor lad.
We were off again. Up ahead, British Camp - somewhere I'm itching to explore - had come into view, although we'd only get tantalising glimpses of it on this visit.
Looking back the way we came
Over Black Hill
At Wynds Point there was a view of somewhere I did plan to visit later that day, namely Little Malvern Priory, which was looking rather like a Tuscan campanile in the valley below.
We walked on as far as the road that cuts through the hills at this point, and then retraced our steps.
Past Wynds Point we took the path that leads down through the woods on the eastern side of the ridge, and soon reached Berington Quarry where we sat on the base of the winding drum and drank what passed for tea in our thermos.
What looked like a family group of four ravens flew overhead - one parent and possibly two youngsters, followed a little later by another adult, the two larger birds conversing with each other across the expanse of excavations.
From then it was 'simply' a matter of finding our way by reversing the instructions given on my downloaded walk.
'You slaaaaag - '
This involved much use of the word 'counter-intuitive' by the member of the party who wasn't a dog and wasn't in charge of the map.
Quick, the ring-wraiths are coming!
Two (more) ravens treated us to a fly-past.
Our next stopping point was Holy Well, the most important spring of many in the Malverns. It is the site, so they say, of remarkable historic cures and the present-day production of Holywell Malvern Spring Water.
A tiny visitor's cubicle told the story of how stalwart locals won the right to use the word Malvern on their bottles as part of their trade name, after Coca-Cola, which closed down production of Malvern Water and tried to sell the site for development into luxury flats, refused permission.
Onward. The route through the woods mentioned 'bench' and later 'green bench'. Actually, there were lots of benches and most of them were painted green.
So I checked we were on the right path by turning around to see the waymarks that were behind us ...
where the path has just split into three
where the path has already passed to the side of a prominent rocky outcrop
... and we found ourselves back where we started, with all the rest of the day ahead.
It turns out that much of the original building has disappeared, including the side chapels, the ruins of which are still visible. 
... with The Nativity in the Sanctuary also dating from the early 20th Century. 
John is buried in Westminster Abbey. 
