The skies have turned darker, and the air has turned colder. This time last year, it was so different. The blue skies and warm temperatures we experienced in Majorca were definitely unseasonal, with most days in the high teens or early twenties.

The picture above is Plaça Major, a large 19th-century pedestrianised square in the capital Palma, with cafés, restaurants, and shops lining the lower floor of its outer fringes. While market stalls often sell a variety of handicrafts in the centre, entertainers on a small stage jostle and play with the crowds.

With the burnt ochre buildings made brighter by the sun, their green shutters and doors glistening like leaves, this Majorcan memory lightens even the darkest winter day.

Rather than losing something in the translation, it apparently seems to have gained something.

As if to prove my theory from last week correct, today the weather did its best impression of summer yet, and glorious sunshine saw us head out to Alton Water.

Set in the Suffolk countryside in an area of outstanding natural beauty, Alton Water is the largest area of inland water in the county. Technically Anglian Water’s fourth largest reservoir, it is situated a few miles south of Ipswich, and provides the drinking water for 200,000 customers. A shortage of drinking water in south Suffolk in the late 1960s saw a demand for Alton to be constructed, and work started in the early 1970s.

Formed by building a man-made dam across a natural valley, and using locally available clay, the water supply to fill the 400-acre expanse was obtained by pumping water from the River Gipping four miles away. Also a nature reserve, the reservoir attracts around 100,000 visitors a year.

We could see why. As we walked around the eight-mile rambling route, trying to avoid the gaggles of cyclists using the ten-mile bicycle track, we literally stumbled across wildlife at every turn. Bright yellow-flowered gorse bushes lead us to spawning frog ponds and cormorant-sitting rafts, small birds and rodents let us glimpse them feeding, while the only signs of the elusive barn owls were their large triangular nest boxes placed high up in the trees.

The frogs were an amazing sight, and we had never seen so many in one place before. As the sun tickled our faces, we sat on the banks of the dragonfly pond, and watched as many pairs of beady eyes looked back at us, wondering whether to swim closer. Under the jetty, in the hope of  attracting a mate, a chorus of the slimy amphibians honked away to each other. Sounding like tiny geese, the mating calls didn’t sound like what we had expected, but were strangely soothing all the same. And, as we sat for half an hour or more, they were the only sounds that filled our ears.

By late afternoon, we’d walked around the inland path, and were looking forward to a tea stop, and the visitor centre didn’t disappoint us. As we quenched our thirst, we reflected on the enjoyable afternoon and the watery view in front of us, and vowed to visit again in the summer. It’s the perfect place to take a rug, stake a place in the grassland or wildflower meadows, and enjoy a fun food-filled picnic.

A perfect day.

Wildlife watching closer to home started the day off on Saturday, as the squirrels that visit next door’s garden to use the tree-mounted feeder unwittingly posed for pictures.

Saturday’s weather was less accommodating, but the day was still fun. A mooch around DIY stores to get ideas for home improvements of the paint colour and bathroom kind was followed by a drive out to join the country set in Woodbridge.

We’d seen an old ironmonger’s shop there a few weeks ago on our last visit, and as I need a grate for my flat’s open fireplace, we decided to see what it could offer me. The friendly owner gladly lent us a tape measure so I could compare the widths of the various iron log baskets with my measurements at home. On first thoughts, they all seemed to be too wide, so I returned the pull-out rule and thanked him with the non-intentional punned ‘Thanks, that’s great.’

He wasn’t impressed.

Last night was a fun night of photos, and learning about how to take them. The plan was to snap Canary Wharf in the cold and still darkness, with the steam rising from the top of the fabled One Canada Square, and the lights shimmering like neon-coloured jewels outwards from the tower building.

As it as a dry evening, we walked along the South Bank, starting just past Blackfriars. The Millennium Bridge gave us stopping to take pictures from London Bridge. The brightly-coloured bridge itself was a willing subject, and was joined by HMS Belfast, and Tower Bridge, with Canary Wharf peeping through behind it. Sight-seeing boats hummed to and fro, causing the gentle lapping waves to ripple louder while they passed.

I was shown how to capture long exposure images, and the quite beautiful effects this technique has on water. The river and the reflections on it become still, almost quite literally frozen. We were almost definitely frozen, but my new gloves bought earlier in the day provided much-needed protection from the cold.

Looking across to the north bank of the City, the Tower of London had two-storey high Oscar statues atop the four vaulted roofs, we think, to celebrate Helen Mirren’s success at the Academy Awards. A strange sight indeed, and as we zig-zagged the criss-cross paths toward the eastern end of the Thames, our thoughts turned to satisfying our mild hunger pangs, and how bitingly cold the evening had become.

Canary Wharf shopping centre served as a fulfilling refreshment stop, and while we ate in Jubilee Park, the part of the city from which we had come seemed so far away. Deciding it was too cold to fill our viewfinders any more, we headed for the train, and away from the bright lights of the City, and towards the dark fields of home.

Don’t worry glittering lady of Docklands; we’ll pop by and see you another time soon.

A weekend of memory jogging, this last one. Saturday dawned dry, bright, and surprisingly mild, so plans were made to travel further afield, in search of panoramic countryside vistas and scenic walking paths. Not having last visited since I was at school, Nik and I found ourselves at Framlingham. Best known for its twelve-towered mediaeval castle, the historic market town lies a few miles north west of Wickham Market. The block of apartments in which I live is named after the town too, so it seemed right that we visit.

A muddy circular walk through green fields and meadows brought us to the imposing fortress. Built in the late 1100s by Roger Bigod, the second Earl of Norfolk, Framlingham Castle still stands proudly over the town today. With hollow towers set in its 13-metre high curtain wall, it was besieged by King John in 1215, and was home to Mary Tudor in 1553. It has since changed hands many times, and a poorhouse, prison, and a school are just a few of its former lives.

A perfect day for taking pictures then, and surrounded by Framlingham Mere (an artificial lake set in marshland on its western side), the castle’s stone walls glinted in the slow-fading sun, painting our viewfinders a lovely late-afternoon orange. Stopping to chat and take in the views looking out across the gently rolling Suffolk countryside, fisherman’s pie and baked apples soon called us home.

An electrical gremlin, which was seemingly trying to literally trap us in Nik’s car, necessitated an early wake-up call, and saw us both head down to Essex separately on Sunday morning. We made our birthday-celebrating lunchtime appointment though, and the rest of the day was spent eating birthday cake and blancmange, playing games, and generally having thoroughly enjoyable fun.

I learnt ‘Newmarket’ once again; a family card game which used to be a Christmas and New Year staple when I was young. ‘Betting’ with pennies on one of four horses and laying down cards in numerical sequence, it was surprising how much I remembered. I did make one slip-up; a moment of non-concentration saw a winning ‘horse’ stay in my hand, and the mounting jackpot go to a much more deserving winner.

Bugger.

All in all, a fun and relaxing couple of days. And, I’m glad spring is just around the corner; I’m really enjoying getting out and about.

Primrose Hill, to be exact. And, the twinkling view of London that Nik and I enjoyed tonight, as we shared a flask of warming tea. A truly perfect evening.

It was sunny and fine yesterday; great weather for taking pictures, but it certainly wasn’t warm. We strolled down to the old R & W Paul Ltd site, which is the latest stage in the East of England Development Agency’s masterplan to bring a cosmopolitan feel to the waterfront. The former mill has already started to be demolished, but, for the moment at least, the imposing main part of the building (and a major feature of the Ipswich dockside skyline) stands tall and proud, seemingly resisting to go quietly.

The white stuff was already turning to slush by mid-morning, and there was only just enough snow left for the big kids to make snowmen. My train journey in this morning from the flat lands of Suffolk was on time, and it was the same story for the one home this evening.

That pretty, light carpet of snow and snowy skies are certainly very different to yesterday’s fine and sunny weather, and have, I believe, turned some parts of the UK into a very late seasonal postcard.

Ice could be the main hazard tonight, so we’ll see what, if any, travel chaos ensues tomorrow. I may have spoken too soon.

I’m so glad that I don’t drive every day, which, if you know me, is very strange. This is because I like cars so much. I always have done, since I was young. I used to really enjoy my driving, even to the extent of going the ‘long way home’, adding endless miles to even the shortest of journeys. But that was before the advent of nose-to-tail traffic jams, rigorously-imposed speed limits, and the school of driving on the right-hand side of a motorway, even when the left-hand lane is empty.

Yesterday however, I had an appointment to keep, and after a good thirty minutes trying to defrost the car after a very severe frost (sitting in the car with a freshly boiled kettle at one point, as the inside of the windscreen was frozen), I was underway.

In my role of editor of the VW Polo Register newsletter, I receive an annual invite to regional driving activities organised by the lovely people at the Volkswagen UK Press Office. Usually, these take the form of arriving at a Midlands-based country house, and driving the latest models, or those which have recently been revised, around the local area. Refreshments are provided too, with a break for lunch, and as much tea and coffee as you can drink.

There is normally a Polo or two included in the list of cars attending on the invitation, but, these days are also a nice opportunity to drive other models which I usually wouldn’t be able to, or to test the latest engine technologies.

Yesterday’s event was at the very impressive Rushton Hall, a short distance from Corby. The weather was pretty much perfect for this time of year; dry with big blue skies. Upon arrival, the venue appeared even more upmarket with the parking of a large helicopter on the front lawn.

After saying ‘hello’ to Allison, Angus, Louise, Nikki, and Paul, I discovered that true to the invitation, there were to be no Polos in attendance. No matter though, as the prospect of the Golf GTI Edition 30, Eos V6, revised Touran, and revised Touareg, still saw me driving the 100 miles anyway. I can’t say that I didn’t feel the tiniest twinge of guilt though. Priding myself of my green credentials, even I knew that a day spent driving wasn’t going to do my environmental points score any good.

However, I sought to drive at least models which were designed with improved fuel economy in mind. The most obvious, and the one which I thought may have been the reason for my invitation, the Polo BlueMotion, sadly wasn’t in attendance. But, I was determined to seek out at least two models to drive which would assuage any guilt that I harboured.

One of these eco-friendly cars wasn’t going to the be the Golf GTI Edition 30 though. An all-out performance car, it was launched in January, to celebrate 30 years of the Golf GTI in the UK. Billed as ‘a fitting tribute to the iconic hot hatch’, it develops 228bhp, and is a limited-edition model, with only 1,500 being sold. An average modern-day small car such as a Fiesta or Polo, develops around 75bhp, so the Edition 30 promised to be a real road rocket.

And so it proved. Very, very quick, with involving handling, it was the most exciting car of the day. Feeling very low and almost tied down, it could be a full-size slot car. With 30bhp more from its turbocharged engine than the standard GTI, and lots of fancy add-ons, it certainly does the legendary badge no harm, and has already won praise from the motoring press.

Starting at £22,295, manual and DSG (direct shift gearbox) semi-automatic versions were available to test. The DSG option is very clever, as the gearbox holds the next gear after the one which is being used ready for change, but for all its dual-clutch frippery and shorter-than-human gear change time boasts, for me, a manual will almost always be better. So, the day was off to an exciting and fun start.

I hadn’t driven an Eos before, so the £28,400 V6 Sport which came next spoiled me a bit. Launched here in July of last year, it is a newcomer to the four-seat coupe convertible market, and Volkswagen’s first foray into the field. A five-piece folding roof also means that it has a glass tilt and slide sunroof; the only car in its class to do so. That roof is also fully-powered, and only takes 25 seconds to transform the car from snug tin-top to open cruiser.

The Sport is the top trim level, and the 248bhp V6 the top engine variant, so the car promised much. The test car’s colour did it no favours, but colour was of no interest to me; I just wanted to see how the roof worked.

I’d driven a New Beetle Cabriolet at another of these events in the past, and it lived up to all my open car expectations. Not having much experience of roofless cars and driving, an open car really does let the outside in, and the Eos was no exception.

Driving through the stone cottage-lined chocolate box lanes of Northamptonshire was truly exhilarating; the birdsong making itself heard above the sonorous V6 engine, and the road-crossing pheasants seemingly much closer than they would have been in a closed car. I found the suspension too soft though, for a car billed as a ‘Sport’, and would have preferred a firmer setup. Overall though, very refined, very desirable, and A+ for effort.

Lunch was followed by a more lengthy blast in the DSG-equipped GTI Edition 30. There was time for nature too, with a short stopover at the nearby Rutland Water nature reserve. It really was the perfect antidote to a day spent driving. The waves lapped the shore, the sun glistened on the surface of the water, and the peace was very welcome.

The revised Touareg came next. Another first, as I had never driven a version of VW’s mud-plugger. Due to hit showrooms on March 1, the most expensive diesel model, comes in at £54,770. However, the Touareg SE V10 TDI has no normal diesel engine; I think I was kidding myself that it was eco-friendly. With a capacity of five litres, 311bhp, and torque of 553lbs ft, I don’t know about a tow car; you could tow entire villages with it. It may have luxury gadgets, wood trim, giant-slaying pulling power, but it wasn’t my sort of car.

Spirited driving was hampered in extremes by a rolling body, and although the high-up visibility was welcome (anything that makes you seem taller when you aren’t blessed with height is good), it didn’t push my buttons. And, at one point, the on-board computer displayed 17.3mpg. Not eco-friendly at all.

Finally, a brace of Tourans rounded off the day. Again, not having driven this model before, the pair would only serve to bolster my understanding of Volkswagen’s wide and diverse range. A compact MPV based on the Golf, and initially launched in 2003, like the Touareg, revised styling means it can face its competitors with a new-found confidence.

Never a fan of the bland old styling, I think the new one does look fresher, but, as with the revised Touareg, it does look facelifted. The chrome grille is the biggest culprit, the styling not looking resolved enough, the addition of the new nose appearing as an afterthought. However, looks deceive; these two were the biggest surprises of the day.

I don’t know if it was my expectations, but a compact family-friendly MPV just doesn’t say sporty drive to me. But, guess what? That’s exactly what they felt like. The first, the £18,235 SE TSI, showcases another of Volkswagen’s new engine technologies; called a ‘twincharger’ unit, it features both a mechanically-driven supercharger and a exhaust-driven turbocharger.

Offering a high level of performance and economy, the 1.4-litre engine develops 138bhp, and, coupled to a six-speed manual gearbox, felt surprisingly quick, tied down, and just generally sporty. I was very pleasantly surprised. The £21,060 Sport 2.0 TDI felt much the same, but with more pulling power in the low and mid-ranges. It was surprising, but these two bowled me over. If I was in the market for a small MPV, the new Touran would certainly make my shortlist.

A final cup of tea, a chat about old Russian aviation technology, and numerous ‘goodbyes’ saw me on my way home. It’s mostly the case with press cars that they come loaded with extra trinkets, and the ones at this event were no exception. This can skew your perspective; it’s not until you glance at the information sheet in every test model that you realise exactly what you’re paying for. Current list prices for all of Volkswagen’s range can be found here.

Overall though, an enjoyable day. Even though I have been a Volkswagen fan for as long as I can remember, and the cars offered have changed beyond all recognition since I started driving, 2007’s range is as good and as varied as it has ever been, with seemingly something for everyone. But, for my 160-mile round trip work journeys, I’ll let the train take the strain. When it can.

If only so I don’t become a member of the bad driving standards community.

Did he really? But, what was it that he did? And, I wonder if he’s the same person who’s leaving Oatibix strewn all over the pavements of Ipswich?