The Cotswolds

The Cotswolds are a range of gently rolling hills in the south of England; the largest Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty in England and Wales; sprinkled liberally with quintessentially English market towns and villages built from honey-coloured stone.

We realised quite recently the delights of this green and pleasant land lie only an hour and a half drive (M40 in a good mood) from Ealing. Splendid. This revelation has led to 2 recent jaunts, one last May and one in January 2020.

May 2019

After a tolerable hour-ish drive on the M40 we fancied a nibble to eat. Sus had found, with a little help from that clever internet, Daylesford Organic Farm (https://www.daylesford.com/). This Gloucestershire mothership has given birth to another 4 outposts in London and included a shop, restaurants, butcher, baker, alas no candlestick maker, fishmonger, grocer and homeware. Much of the produce is grown, reared or hatched on their organic farm. It’s expensive, busy and perhaps a little too commercial but worth a wander and a gander. And our pizzas were excellent.

We drove to our B&B, freshened and made our way to Cirencester. Which appeared closed. Nevertheless, Cirencester is an attractive market town with Roman remains, medieval morsels, 18^th century Cotswolds stone buildings and the ubiquitous Victorian architecture. Fortified with a healthy takeout of chips we wandered agreeably for an hour before returning to our B&B.

After a splendid and obviously healthy full English we waddled our way to Stow on the Wold. Another extremely attractive market town Stow boasts many 16^th century limestone houses (one even dates back to c1450); a beautiful 11^th century church pimped up in the 15^th century; a Victorian hall; numerous cafes, pretty pubs and restaurants galore. Originally a wool town Stow on the Wold is genuinely a beautiful place and would make an excellent base.

Next up, the wonderfully named, and perfectly safe, Upper Slaughter and Lower Slaughter. Though sounding like a B horror movie and an equally dreadful sequence the name actually relates to location. Both are blessed with 16th and 17^th Cotswold Limestone dwellings, Upper Slaughter acquired a Manor House dating back to the 15^th century, Lower Slaughter a 19^th century water mill. Both happily share the River Eye and are less than half an hour stroll apart. Both are gorgeous.

And, as luck would have it, Jane Austin’s Emma was being filmed at the time of our visit. Thanks guys. The incongruence between 21^st technology and early 19^th century costumes was genuinely surreal. Americans were dribbling with excitement, the English stood around looking smug. The reverse is true when the English find themselves gazing into the depths of the Grand Canyon.

We pottered off but only after watching a scene being filmed that really will be on a screen near you quite shortly.

Burton-on-the-Water was teeming with tourists – quite possibly millions of them. We drove through and headed to Cheltenham. After ambling around the sometimes pretty, sometime not city centre we headed back to the car – quite deliberately discarded a minute’s walk from the wonderful Favourite Beer (http://www.favouritebeers.com/). They have perhaps 10 beers on tap and hundreds of cans and bottles to either quaff in or quaff out. Sus drove home.

For reasons unknown I chose this as the finale of our first Cotswolds adventure. And threw away the notes Sus makes on such trips. It wasn’t. We had 2 day left, including the event this trip had been built around.

Whoops. Let’s play a memory game.

Another morning, another delicious and healthy full English. Snowshill Manor and Gardens was our intended venue to burn off, for me anyway, all that fatty loveliness.

Snowshill Manor is a beautiful Tudor manor house bought by a chap called Charles Wade, thanks to an inheritance from his parents, shortly after the Second World War. Charles, an avid collector, revamped the Manor to house his ever growing collection and transformed the farmyard into an Arts and Crafts garden. He lived in the small Priest’s House opposite. It was that or a barn conversion.

His eclectic collection (much admired by the lovvies of the day) includes a magical model village, a room full of bygone bicycles, and weirdly, one of the finest collections of Samurai costumes outside of Japan. 

There is nothing not to like. The Manor, collection and gardens blend superbly to create both a fascinating and beautiful place to be. The National Trust might own half the country but they do it so very well.

And it’s here dear readers where memory and Google fail me. Neither can recall anything of that evening…….

…….segueing seamlessly into the next morning. We drove to a Holiday Inn on the outskirts of Maidenhead for this particular jaunt’s raison d’etre (an expression crafted by the French, destroyed by the English). 

Excited? We were.

We checked in, freshened up and taxied to Bray, a small, pleasant suburban village on the Thames. This bijou Berkshire community boasts, as near neighbours, the Fat Duck and Waterside Inn. The former is the domain of Heston Blumenthal, the latter of Alain Roux. Both are restaurants, both are 3 star Michelin restaurants.

Sus, though certainly not looking so, was to be 50 that June. The Fat Duck was the lucky recipient for this undoubted celebration.

The taxi dropped us outside a 16^th century building. We looked around – there was a pub but no neon sign pointing the way to this temple to gastronomy. Thankfully, within a few seconds of our landing in Bray, a door opened, a waitress emerged and a 4 and a half hour journey began. I was genuinely nervous, Sus considerably less so.

And please be assured, what follows will not be an in depth dissection of what we slurped, burped and gulped. With accompanying selfies.  I‘d be bored.

The restaurant was surprisingly small (40 covers only) with tables well spaced. We had the taster menu with matched wines – 16 courses (yep 16), some being small plates, others literally just a mouthful, most inbetween. The incredibly inventive menu is based around Heston’s seaside memories and, for one delectable fish course, includes headphones with sounds of the sea. Astonishingly it really did make a difference. Never saw that coming. I’m presuming the fish didn’t either.

It was stupendously expensive. You could probably purchase a McDonald’s franchise for the same cost. The seaside narrative is occasionally stretched and the food, though of superb quality, very occasionally misfires. However, the waiters and waitresses were fabulous, the wine wonderful and the food, when it does work, was without doubt some of the finest either has ever, ever eaten. One particular small plate was the tastiest I’ve perhaps eaten anywhere, anytime. And we’ve been lucky enough to dine in many a fine establishment.

Taken in its entirety that 4 and a half hours is one of the many highlights of our 10 plus years together.

Would we go again? Fuck yeah.

January 2020

Eight months later, another birthday. Partly in celebration of my 55^th birthday, we were back. It was cold.

We based ourselves in the Bear of Rodborough Hotel on the outskirts of Stroud. Two particularly unfortunate bears, having been shot and stuffed, stood as silent sentinels menacing reception. The hotel is a rambling 17^th century coaching inn and, though perched on a busy intersection, proved a delightful and quirky place to stay. There’s a lovely bar, real fires, decent bar food and a full English as splendid I’ve bothered in sometime. My mornings are generally reserved for cereal or porridge.

Stroud is yet another market town. The Cotswold’s seem to have a knack of producing such places. Stroud was very much closed. And very much cold. Stroud, once an important wool town, boasts 17^th, 18 and 19^th architecture, still has a large and successful market and an active local community. Though not postcard pretty Stroud is certainly an attractive spot. When open.

The next morning, and following an obligatory and healthy full English (something non meaty for Sus), we drove to Lacock Abbey. The abbey was founded by one of the most formidable and powerful women of the Middle Ages – Ela Countess of Salisbury. The cloisters, somewhat surprisingly, were incorporated into a Tudor country house in the 15^th century. The canny courtier, who purchased the abbey shortly after the Dissolution of the monasteries, presumably picked up a bargain. We should thank him; the cloisters are a rare example of medieval monastic architecture. Cheers Bill (Sir William Sharington).

John Ivory Talbot inherited Lacock in the 17^th century and went about pimping up the olde yea place in the totally on trend Gothick style. In the 19^th century William Henry Fox Talbot inherited this impressive pile and, depending on your nationality, may or may not have invented modern photography. It might have been a French bloke. However it does explain the rather incongruous appearance of an excellent photography museum in the grounds of a building dating back 800 years. 

In 1944, a surprised recipient of the Lacock estate sensibly entrusted its future upkeep to the National Trust. Of which we’re members.

Parts of the house were undergoing conservation and not open to the public. This is a common practice during the winter months, as we learnt from the guided Conservation Tour we booked on arrival. It may sound a tad drab but was a fascinating insight into the ongoing battle between nature and old buildings. There’s surely a Sky original series in there somewhere. Thinking hobbit but more insect focussed. 

We bravely braved immodest weather to explore Lacock village the setting for many a film and TV series. Most of the village houses date to the 18^th century or earlier, there’s a 14^th century tithe barn, a medieval church, an inn dating to the 15^th century and an 18th-century village school still in use today.

You could easily spend a day wandering around Lacock abbey, town and estate – all are quite beautiful. A half day is the least Lacock and you deserve.  

Our day ended on a trading estate on the outskirts of Cheltenham. Somewhat disappointing architecturally after Lacock. There were mitigating circumstances. This particular trading estate was home to the delightful DEYA brewery and tap room. As Sus heroically volunteered to drive I enjoyed only a couple of halves before we headed back to the hotel. Thoughtfully the lovely chaps and chapesses at DEYA sold their delicious brews in cans. We purchased several.

And shared a couple before struggling to finish a decent and very substantial seafood platter. With an equally decent gin and tonic. It had been a long day.

After another delicious and wholesome full English we said goodbye to the hotel and our 2 bear chums. Our next stop was a literally freezing salvage yard (too cold to get wallet out) before meeting daddy Tony and Bev (second wife) in Stow on the Wold. Dad, a regular visitor, loves the Cotswolds and it’s actually simpler to meet them both here then it is their Derbyshire home. After enjoying a pleasant hour catching up in one of the numerous coffee and cake establishments we headed back to London.

I may not always agree with dad – his worldview, being 80 plus and living in Derbyshire, veers right of my own – but his love of this area is totally understandable. The Cotswolds genuinely are a beautiful part of the world. We’ll be back.