WHENEVER I go to Malvern, I get that Goodnight, Sweetheart sensation. I'll explain.

Many of you will recall the series in which the central character steps from the present into 1940. It's a timewarp situation exactly like the Malvern experience.

I say this because the recent well-dressings reminded me how many former hippies live in the town. Sometimes, it seems 1967 never ended. Many of its inhabitants talk as if paganism was a mainstream religion, that Worcestershire Beacon is most certainly a saucerport for visiting aliens, and that fairies lurk in the crevices of every mossy bank.

I know you will tell me that there are people from all walks of life living in this town but I still think there's something highly unusual about Malvern. Perhaps it's to do with ley lines, druids or the fact that Caractacus got his comeuppance on British Camp all those years ago.

One day late last summer, my eldest daughter and I came across what can only be described as a secluded grove near Hangman's Hill. All I can say is that the atmosphere was highly unusual. Whether weird, wacky or wonderful, there's something rather strange about the town of Elgar.