We three have progressed through various life transitions together, things like gaining independence when graduating from active playground moms to passive bench moms, taking a pass on PTO asks, having time to ourselves on Saturday mornings and in our current stage, planning these sorts of trips, which seem to involve going for long walks through fields and woods, having drinks at pubs and taking photographs of large piles of lichen-adorned rocks that are gravestones, pillars, walls, houses.
Ye Olde Junque Shoppe
Having seen the small village of Bourton-on-the-Water when scouting for a pub the evening prior, we were looking forward to exploring when things were open, which proved to be an optimistic sentiment. I was reminded of the sameness of these scenic tourist places, whether Nantucket, Bonnieux, Telluride, Valetta, Roma or Tulum, the only variables being the soap scent, reflecting its habitat; aloe, lavender, eucalyptus, sea salt, olive oil, charcoal etc., or the style of dish towel. We tried to shop, we really did. In fact one of us actually picked up trinkets adorned with King Charles' crowned head. But she put them back and walked out, unburdened.
Chastleton House
Many options, all of them good
We took two walks, one about 4 miles, the other twice that, traversing fields, some dormant, others filled with sheep, goats, even one with a still bloody carcas that from far away without my glasses looked like a baked ham. There were beautiful and usually very tidily trimmed hedges, copses, barns and farms, a folly, some monstrous manor houses and a church that was as small as it was old. On our longer wander we walked from Bourton-on-the-Water to Stow-on-the-Wold, having lunch at The Hive, which had the feel of a couple of home cooks making a go of it, quite successfully. My soup was accompanied by a cheese scone that was large, light and with more cheese flavor than I thought possible. A sign asking walkers to take their shoes off at the entrance meant we traipsed through the restaurant and sat for lunch in wet stocking feet. One of us was so chilled that she got the good idea to warm her feet under the ladies room hand dryer, but disappointingly, there were only paper towels.
Many views like this
And this
Friends
Hobbit house, Adlestrop
Barn
Bench at church, Adlestrop
At the top of the hill on the way to Stow-on-the-Wold
We retuned from our longer walk through Lower Slaughter, which is apparently one of the chocolate box towns one sees on postcards, but as confirmed by my aunt who is not known to mince a word, filled with a population too closely related. Houses are exceedingly close to each other and it was freakily peaceful and tidy. One of us noted that it would take one small act by a resident to go from peaceful scenic to horror movie. You might have had to be there to understand.
Lower Slaughter
Lower Slaughter
More Lower Slaughter
Really? Lower Slaughter
Purveyor of Maltesers and crisps and not much else
Viewing of the not-so-rare English schoolchild busting out at the end of the day
We visited two farms, the first, Daylesford, was situated on a large and open piece of land with a big parking lot full of Land Rovers and Porsches. It had become so successful that a new building had recently completed encompassing a greenhouse, home goods, furniture, incredible produce and prepared food to takeaway, a full cheese room where I would like to spend the end of my life, two restaurants, a cookery school in a beautifully airy space and a padel court, and it turns out, locations in all the posh London neighborhoods. My friends had scones and tea, sadly I found myself still paying for the Maltesers and chips that were "to hold me over" and couldn't gain the necessary momentum. We then went to Diddly Squat Farm, which is somehow famous related to TV and I bought a head of smoked garlic which stunk up the car for two days and almost a week later, still hasn't been used.
Garrick Inn, Stratford-upon-Avon
Auntie had told us we MUST go to Stratford-upon-Avon to experience the Royal Shakespeare Company, so we headed up north, eating a takeout dinner on the sly at the Garrick Inn, a Tudor half-timbered building dating back to the 16th century. While I'll admit to having a small amount of dread prior to what was advertised as a three hour Othello, it whizzed by and I found that, just like watching Derry Girls, the essentially foreign language becomes easier to follow after a bit. It certainly helped that one of my more educated friends had given me the Cliff Note version before.
It was a raw cold in Bath with little sun, but there were plenty of places to warm up. It is a city that goes back to Roman times and is famous for the Roman Bath, and for the crescent shaped buildings. We saw the sights, did some shopping and shared a whole Cornish brill for dinner one night at the up and coming Checquers..
Wicked famous Royal Crescent
Pultney Bridge over the River Avon
The Roman Bath did have steam coming out of it. Still.
Curses people wrote out about others, at the Roman Bath. Verecundius is dead meat.
OK, the Romans actually had a gym at the baths, and women actually exercised.I so loved this demo
Leftover Cornish Brill
Color amidst the grey
Would have lugged these home if I had a home nearby to lug them home to!
Not cowed from packing one more thing into our itinerary, we stopped in Salisbury on the way home, taking in the largest cathedral in England by walking around the perimeter where the wheezing heaters were. Much old stone and stained glass and stories about long ago kept us engaged for a while, but I'd be lying if I didn't admit that the highlight of the day was lunch at the Haunch of Venison (is that a name or what?) which smelled deliciously of bacon and had a nice fire going on the second floor where we lunched. Sheepishly, I ordered soup and salad, but my friends ponied up to a venison burger and boar sausages, which appeared more abstemious than the groaning Sunday roast plates we saw going by.
My dear friends set off next morning, back to their regular lives and responsiblities, and I woke up thinking "Hmmm, now what?"
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