Like the Forest of Dean, the Malvern hills have always been a part of my life. When I was born, my Grandmother lived here. I lived here for a while in West Malvern in a house called the Highlands.
In a somer sesun, whon softe was the sonne,
I schop me into a shroud, as I a scheep were;
In habite as an hermite unholy of werkes
Wente I wyde in this world wondres to here;
Bote in a Mayes morwnynge on Malverne hulles
Me bifel a ferly, of fairie, me-thoughte.
I was wery, forwandred, and wente me to reste
Undur a brod banke bi a bourne side;
And as I lay and leonede and lokede on the watres,
I slumbrede in a slepynge, hit swyed so murie.
These lines are taken from the Prologue of The Vision of Piers Plowman by William Langland