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A day in the country – the Cotswolds at its most beguiling – Chapter 6

A day in the country – the Cotswolds at its most beguiling – Chapter 6

Thursday, August 31…We woke to a morning filled with sun. Looking from my bedroom window over grass stippled with moving cloud images, I imagined myself living here, in the Cotswolds, embedded in this beautiful countryside.

Of course, I brought myself down to reality with the thought of winter, and rain, and cold…but even so, it would be England.

We had nothing on the agenda today but rambling around Broadway, and maybe a walk in the late afternoon.

Strolling along the, by now, well-known path from Old Orchard to Broadway, we were struck anew by the historic homes lining the road, with small paned windows and peaked gables, gardens filled with the flowers in season, old drystone walls…views across the road into the fields and hills, some ploughed, some green and glowing in the sunlight.

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Our first stop was for lunch at the Crown & Trumpet pub and inn, which is the pub closest to the house.

It’s cozy and very English, with a black and white cat acting as major domo, and laboring under the name “Fattas Cattas.” He joined us at table for lunch, nestling down on my backpack, after insisting on offering a paw to David (not crazy about cats)…

The food was, as usual, delicious, and the leek and potato soup was outstanding. Half pints were ordered. After which, I tried the apple/rhubarb crumble (a little dry but the custard helped.)

We left the pub and meandered into town, stopping at the Broadway Deli on the High Street for provisions – and they had some wonderful stuff; we were hard put to leave without buying out the store – the array of cheeses alone was impressive. Finally pulling ourselves away, we looked into and around the various small shops. David had wanted some lavender items for friends back home, but oddly enough, even with the lavender farm just down the road outside Snowshill, we could not find anything. We decided to have another look the next day.

On the way back to Old Orchard, as usual looking at everything and anything that crossed my path, I saw – to my delight – what looked like a conker. We were standing beneath a grand old chestnut tree, and the ground was covered in them. Naturally, I had to immediately break into verse:

Beneath the spreading chestnut tree

A village smithy stands

The smith, a mighty man is he

With large and sinewy hands

And the muscles on his brawny arms

Are strong as iron bands.

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David perhaps wasn’t amused to be asked to stand beneath the chestnut tree as I took photographs…especially when I burst into verse, as it were, but there you are! It seemed to fit!

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Then I gathered up a couple of conkers, and we wended our way home. The soft light and the beauty of the house and grounds immediately called for more photographs. I left David at the house, and went for a lovely short walk towards Snowshill.

These walks are full of the most appealing and intrinsically English images. St. Edburgha’s Church, a small Norman church standing in a field…

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A drystone wall …

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A sign for the Broadway Cricket Club…

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A footpath through the fields….

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A lonely tractor in a farrowed field…

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And more. The English countryside at its most iconic.

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When I returned to Old Orchard, we decided to settle in for the night with some old TV shows. Appropriately enough, the first one we found was “To the Manor Born”… Seemed appropriate, and it was still, after all these years, witty and clever.

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When I turned in for the night, I left the window ajar…the air was cool and sweet, and sleep came quickly. I was trying to live in the moment and not let this lovely journey pass me by casually and without acknowledgement. I’ll never forget this particular trip…and we still have four more days to come!

 

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Stanton and Snowshill, The Cotswolds – Chapter 5

Stanton, The Cotswolds

Stanton and Snowshill, the Cotswolds – Chapter 5

Wednesday, August 30…The morning was one of those delightful easygoing and sunny mornings when nothing was immediate or demanding, and doing anything (or not doing anything) was a pleasure.

As usual, I wandered around the grounds of Old Orchard’s beautiful garden, picked some apples and plums in the orchard for Steve and myself, and sat on the bench in the back overlooking the green fields and ever-grazing sheep, just inhaling the fresh air.

We had booked Steve for a trip to Snowshill, and he had added Stanton as a first stop, so at 2:30 he picked us up.  (Advertising push here: Cotswold Executive Cabs – fabulous!)

About three miles from Broadway, the village of Stanton is absolutely delightful.

It only has a population of about 200! (Can I make it 201?) Overcast when we first arrived, the recalcitrant sun popped back out, to showcase the allure of the homes and surroundings.

Stanton has a High Street and a pub, The Mount, which for some reason (rare for us) we did not check out (next time!)

The houses, as is usual here, are built almost entirely of the butter-yellow Cotswold limestone, and a small street which we stopped to photograph wound downhill through the greenery.

Surrounded in part by woods…

village walls were ivy covered…a pansy grew from a stone…climbing roses bloomed…views of the rolling Cotswold hills were seen through a framework of old, old trees and houses… I walked around in a happy dream.

Our next stop was Snowshill Manor, an old manor house built by an eccentric gentleman by the name of Charles Wade.

Back garden of Snowshill Manor

He collected a very wide variety of objects, gadgets, art and thingamajigs from all over the world, and these were displayed throughout his house, rather willy-nilly. Some people find this creepy; I rather like the idea of this old gentleman gathering items from his travels whether they had any value or not and just because…

After all, what is England without eccentricity?

Snowshill Manor ivy covered wall

As I’d been here and toured the manor once before, I stuck to the gardens while David took a quick tour through the house.

The gardens had an end-of-the-season feel to them, but the old stonework of the walls, steps, buildings and so on was still lovely, the ivy-covered walls and ripening fruit really enchanting.

Garden seat at Snowshill Manor

We stopped for a quick cup of tea and a scone at the little teahouse

Snowshill Manor teahouse

then left to ramble onto Snowshill itself, which I’d been wanting to revisit since I first stepped toe onto Cotswold soil. The narrow road was hemmed by fields and woods on either side, and we stopped to take some photographs of the far-reaching hills and fields.

Walking from Snowshill Manor to Snowshill

By the time we got to Snowshill, the weather had turned and had become rather drippy and chilly. We found the Snowshill Arms – which I kept saying “is on the green” but I couldn’t find the green (as I remembered it.) However, we did finally find the pub, only to see that it didn’t open for another 30 minutes. We huddled shivering beneath the portico when the manager drove up and took pity on us, letting us in early, saying she “hoped we wouldn’t mind if she popped upstairs to do a couple of things.” We didn’t mind a bit, especially when she served us a couple of half pints while we waited to order our dinner. And my dinner was scrumptious, an English breakfast actually and the sausage was incredibly good. Loved it! (And my new favorite thing is IPAs…how did I not know about these before?)

A little later Steve joined us for a drink and then drove us home.

Being rather damp and chilled, the first thing that crossed my mind was a hot bath. My bedroom’s master suite held a clawfoot tube, and oh! It was wonderful to dive into the bubbles and get warm.

Clawfoot tub at Old Orchard

Despite the cooling air and wet weather, it was a lovely day, and I am thrilled to add Stanton to my list of English villages that encompass everything right about England. Long may they – and the beautiful English countryside – reign!

Exploring small Cotswolds villages – Chapter 4

Small Cotswolds villages – with our tour guide Steve – Chapter 4

Tuesday August 29…This is the day Steve, our tour guide, took us on a Cotswolds villages tour. It was a memorable day, among many…Steve is a terrific guide, and he had devised a splendid itinerary.

I had been hoping to see at least one park or garden designed by the wonderful landscape artist Lancelot “Capability” Brown.

Steve surprised us with a visit to his (Brown’s) first manor house and landscape, Croome Court.

Covering over 1,170 acres of manmade parkland situated between the Rivers Avon and Severn and close to Pershore, it was primarily marshland when Capability Brown was chosen by the 6th Earl of Coventry in 1751 to design both the park and the manor house.

Today, while apparently still unfinished, the grounds contain a church, lakes and islands, bridges, grottos, meandering pathways, beautiful trees and lush bushes.  The stonework is wonderful. Adding to the melancholy beauty of the estate, the sky was overcast, and it was damp and a little chilly.

As early sunlight burned through intermittent cloud cover, we drove through the gently sloping hills of the Cotswolds countryside, green and golden.

Passing through many small villages, we pulled over for a few minutes off the beaten path at Elmley Castle for photographs of the Tudor-style cottages and ivy clad shops and restaurants.

We then wended our way to the two Slaughters, which straddle the banks of the River Eye.

 

The Slaughters name is not as bloody as it sounds; in old English, it apparently means “muddy place”…possibly! Under the now lowering English sky, we saw the meandering river crossed by stone bridges, and the charming cottages surrounding it.

Here we ate lunch at the Old Mill, a tiny riverside café run by a friend of Steve’s.

The small outdoor bathrooms (well, outdoor in the sense of not being in the cafe) had low-lying doorframes, and apparently ignoring the sign saying “Watch your head,” I immediately bashed mine against the lintel – looking and feeling rather idiotic since there was quite an audience to my momentary lapse and crossed eyes.

I didn’t feel quite so bad when, on a return visit to said bathroom, a woman coming out immediately cracked her head against the overhead beam. We both stared at one another, while I muttered consoling words to the effect of “I was an idiot myself” – no, not really but whatever! (I think they need a bigger sign!)

After lunch, we ambled along the river, as the sky continued to darken, with scudding gray clouds a backdrop to the timeless English landscape.

We wandered down the river bank, crossed over small bridges, and basically enjoyed the foliage beginning to turn an autumn-y rust and red.

And then our next stop was Burford. David had remembered a special visit there in 1979, so that was next – it’s a charming town with a lovely long ascending high street, bustling with shoppers and tourists. (I was there in September 2007, not long after the great flood.) We found the church and graveyard.

There was a lot of reconstruction going on, but I managed to take pictures of him among the sarcophagi. Talk about a walk among the tombstones!

It was time to get back in the car, and Steve drove us through Bourton-on-the-Water (“very touristy” so we didn’t stop, and I had been there in 2006) to Minster Lovell. This is a village I have never heard of, and was a delightful, absolutely charming surprise.

The old grade A-listed church, St. Kenelm’s, dates back to 14th-15th century.

Behind the church were tall lacy ruins of what used to be a great manor house set in a wide green lawn alongside the river.

Children played on the grass. I loved it…it was beautifully peaceful, really a respite from the “other world” we normally inhabit.

The village was equally wonderful.

After which, Steve wanted to take us to the Cotswolds Woolen Weavers, a terrific woolen mill in the village of Filkins housed in an 18th century barn.

It is the last company in the area to implement the traditions of woolen cloth design and manufacture, according to the site on Google.

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The wool was exquisite, with a soft satiny sheen.

I plunged my hand into a basket of raw sheep’s wool, and when I withdrew it, my hand was coated in lanolin…so soft!

(I was also taken by a soap called Old Goat – nothing to do with anyone I know – just an eccentric name with a wonderful scent!)

I wanted to buy everything I saw! Steve and David helped me to choose a coat out of many (hard!) and David bought a classy wool sweater. I had to be dragged out of there kicking and screaming (internally!) I could’ve furnished my house in Houston with the sofas, chairs, blankets, throws and accessories that were displayed against the old stone walls.

After Steve pushed me into the car, he drove us back to Broadway, dropping us off at the Broadway Hotel bar for dinner. David had two martinis; I had a Guinness, with an absolutely fabulous hamburger. Seriously, it was absolutely top notch. Then, replete (very) and relaxed (even more so), we walked back along the road to Old Orchard, happy campers we. And so ended the day of our lovely satisfying tour…thank you Steve…it was the best

The Cotswolds – Broadway, The Cotswolds Way and Chipping Campden – Chapter 3

The Cotswolds – Broadway, The Cotswolds Way and Chipping Campden – Chapter 3

Saturday August 26…Our first full day in the Cotswolds… and the weather here continues beautifully sunny, in a word, perfect! Once we got ourselves out of our respective beds at Old Orchard, and puttered around the house and the grounds (finding out that the toilet in the potting shed was Royal Doulton – talk about keeping up appearances!), we walked into Broadway.

The road from Old Orchard to Broadway was fairly narrow, often with little space to leap out of the way of cars whose drivers apparently thought they were auditioning for the Grand Prix…but we were none the worse for wear despite a few nettles getting in our way. And just looking at the old houses lining the road, or over hedgerows to fields that ranged far and wide was such pleasure, it was worth a little scramble or two.

We went for a lazy ramble along Broadway’s high street, stopping in the Swan for half a pint of the local IPA, called Ubu (don’t ask me why the name, but it was absolutely delicious) and some lunch (yummy as well).

I love the Swan…it is English to the core, and having a drink there is very enjoyable, as is people watching! One of the great things I noted in all these small Cotswolds towns – and other parts of England as well – is how welcome – and how well behaved – dogs are, in restaurants and pubs.  Dishes of water were set outside shops – no dog ever goes thirsty!

Broadway is a delightful English village, with a wide green, and not overrun, on this day, with tourists (such as ourselves!)

The flowers were in full bloom, and were brilliant – as that part of the street lined with pots of the most vivid red geraniums attested. We were fascinated by the architecture, which used mostly Cotswolds stone that gives off that buttery glow even when the sun isn’t shining. I don’t care if it is “tourist-y” – I love it!

Later in the afternoon we stopped for a cream tea at the Broadway inn and pub. David was not taken with the clotted cream, but we both loved the scones and jam…then it was back to the grocery for more Tin Loaf, and return to Old Orchard.

Time for evening cocktails! So we sat on the terrace in the rear of the house, looking out over the beautiful grounds with the running brook at the bottom of the garden, beyond to still green fields dotted with the white grazing sheep, and back still further into the setting sun. Well, I thought I’d died and gone to English heaven.

Sunday August 27… Today we decided to find the trailhead for the Cotswolds Way, on the other side of Broadway.

The Cotswolds Way is one of the oldest footpaths in England.

It was another gorgeously sunny day, and this part of the footpath was unshaded by trees along the actual trail, so by the time we managed close to a mile, we were rather warm.

We had packed a picnic lunch (hardboiled eggs and watercress sandwiches, cherry tomatoes, crisps, apples from the orchard)

so we found shade beneath some (I think) beech trees, and unpacked the feast. We sat on the grass, looking down into the green valley where Broadway lay, and all the fields and rolling hills around and beyond us. You felt you could just dance over the low-lying hills and fields like a dandelion head blown in the wind.

(Obviously not dancing here!) I pulled myself together, and walked over the crest of the hill behind us to see how far it was to the Broadway Tower. It was at least another mile away, and as I was unsure as to David’s desire to walk any further, we packed up and trotted back down to Broadway.

The Horse & Hounds pub came into view, and a half pint sounded perfect, so of course we stopped in to check out their local IPA, then found Lloyd’s Bank for some money, and after that, moved on to the Lygon Arms for the second half pint! After which, we walked to the end of the high street for dinner at a local Indian restaurant…the food was fabulous, but I was absolutely stuffed (no surprise there) and we brought half the meal back to Old Orchard with us.

Monday August 28…Today we spent a beautifully sunny (warm!) day in Chipping Campden.

Steve was busy with a tour, so he sent Roz to drive us there, she was really delightful. She dropped us off at our checkpoint (the willow tree in the town’s center), and told us she’d meet us there at 4PM.

We spent time in the beautiful, historic Church of St James, with its old, old carvings, stained glass and memorials, and wandered outside to take a walk amongst the ancient tombstones.

We had tea and scones in a hotel pub which we found down a narrow alleyway;

walked up Sheep Street to one of the loveliest thatched roofed cottages I’ve ever seen…

and, further down the road, noted a girl with purple hair; chatted with Peter, an American from Seattle; and had a Ploughman’s Lunch in a teashop.

People are so kind here. As we were wandering around the town square, a gentleman came up to us to tell us about a lovely little gallery exhibiting photographs and beautifully framed miniature paintings of Chipping Campden in all seasons. We had ten minutes to spare, so dashed inside, where I bought a framed print of a snowy winter’s day in the surrounding fields , which I loved.  Then we found a grocery store that was open (it was Bank Holiday) as we were in dire need of cheese and ale, and met Roz back at the willow tree. Chipping Campden is absolutely delightful…now I wonder if I can afford to live there?!

The English Cotswolds – From Cornwall to Jane Austen Country and Old Orchard, Chapter 2

The English Cotswolds – From Cornwall to Jane Austen Country and Old Orchard, Chapter 2

Friday, August 25…

Taking our train from Sandplace Station to Moreton-in-Marsh involved a few of those train changes that, with a heavy piece of luggage, demanded diplomatic negotiation in order not to break people’s toes, both embarking and getting off! The two stations where we were to change were Liskeard and Reading.

The transfer at Liskeard was hilarious as, once off the train, we dragged our bags up a ramp, and over a bridge to one side of the station, only to be flagged down from the opposite side by a woman who apparently could tell we were on the wrong side of the tracks for Reading. So it was back up the ramp and over the bridge, and we got on the train just before it rolled out of the station.

Once at Reading, it was back off the train, and a search for the nearest bathroom ensued – the trek seemed to take us halfway back to Liskeard (just kidding!) but it certainly was not around the nearest corner. I left David with the bags and galloped off. Then it was his turn, galloping down the platform somewhat like the Ride of the Valkyries… When all that was taken care of, we stopped at a bakery for a sausage roll and a spinach and feta pie – some of the best pastries we’d tasted!

Up came the train for Moreton-in-Marsh, and we had reserved seats…hurray! So we enjoyed a pleasant trip through the most beautiful sunny countryside, the fields laid out on either side like a rich green quilt.

At the end of it all, Steve, our driver, was waiting patiently…and even more patiently when I had to unzip my luggage on the platform and dive beneath everything to find the folder with all the passcode information for getting into Old Orchard! (This is Steve, later in the trip, sharing a drink…)

And we were there, and we didn’t have to move again for ten whole days. I had been looking forward to seeing Old Orchard, and it was everything I’d hoped it would be…and more!

Steve drove us first to Budgen’s, a small completely stocked grocery in Broadway, where we bought provisions for the next few days, not knowing what there was at the house. Then he drove us home.

From the moment we opened the wooden double gates to the sweeping gravel drive,

our first view of The Old Orchard country house took us into Jane Austen territory.

A small wrought iron gate led into a flagstoned enclosure, filled with giant pots of hydrangeas, to the back door. David, as Keeper of the Keys, opened the door, and we walked into the kitchen, which then led to the living room and staircase, and beyond that, the library, which looked out through square-paned windows to the back garden; and then to neighboring meadows where sheep were grazing.

The sunlight was golden, the air warm and buttery. A stream wandered along the edge of the grounds.

To one side of the house was the orchard and vegetable garden

…apples, plums, pears and a grape arbor, with the veggie garden offering green runner beans which were wonderful.

I vowed then and there to eat an apple a day…they were sweet and crisp, with a white flesh faintly veined with green.

The three upstairs bedrooms (and two bathrooms) all looked out to the Cotswolds countryside. Mine happened to be papered with roses, and had two casement windows, one with pink and gold climbing roses framing far green fields; the other looking down over the sweep of the gravelled drive and broad expanse of lawn dotted with trees.

Sofas and chairs throughout the house, covered with a pale heavy material lightly figured with blue or pink scattered flowers, were downfilled and comfortable. The kitchen held every conceivable appliance, including a hot water tap that gave us steaming hot water for tea and coffee…immediate satisfaction!

This was our first evening at Old Orchard. Even our tour guide, Steve, was stunned by its beauty, both of the grounds and the house.

Our mornings mostly followed the same easygoing pattern, since we didn’t want to be constantly meeting some deadline or other. We woke to pale sunny skies, cool and clear.

Once I woke early to sunrise over the fields filled with sheep; so beautiful to see the colors of grass and trees deepen and glow.

One very interesting sidebar here in the Cotswolds: when I turn out the light to sleep, I never draw the curtains…and it is dark as a cave. I literally cannot see my hand in front of my face, because there are no street lights, no car headlights. No city lights…and the silence is profound. Just the occasional baa-ing of a lonely sheep. I haven’t experienced this since I was a child…pretty wonderful!

I always opened the windows to check the views, watching as the roses, one by one, died away and were replaced by others equally beautiful. Padded downstairs to the kitchen, where David was usually already up and having his breakfast. Made tea from PG Tips.

Then I would walk out to the orchard, and pick apples from a tree by the garden wall in the far corner, well-laden with the reddening fruit.

Sometimes we picked plums. That was usually my breakfast, but once in a while, we had soft boiled eggs with the wonderful fresh bread from Budgen’s – called, for some unknown reason, Tin Loaf. Or David had muesli. And we had this wonderful watercress, tiny leaved and peppery….now why can’t I get this in Houston!!

Then, after cleaning up and making my bed, checking my emails and texts, I roamed the grounds taking photographs.

I didn’t “feed the ducks, reprove my wife, play Handel’s Largo on the fife…” as one poet would have it…yet the feeling of being out of time persisted…it was Jane Austen territory, and we were lucky – so lucky – to be there.

___________________________

David was named Keeper of the Keys

Rosemary was named Keeper of the Fob – which opened and closed the front gates

________________________________

Cornwall – Magical rambles on the coast

Cornwall – Magical rambles on the coast

Thursday August 18….these are fraught days, trying to pull everything together for our 2+ week sabbatical in England (Cornwall and the Cotswolds). I have never been so tired getting ready for a trip! Just the technology alone is enough to make you shudder. New tablet, new keyboard, pass codes, TravelPass, WiFi apps and passwords, converters…may the stress all fade away the moment I board that plane!

Monday August 21…on way to airport at 11…I am SO ready. Our flight on British Airways is smooth and uneventful (no sleep though).

Tuesday August 22…I glided through Customs, and picked up my luggage, waiting a short time for David to make it through. It all took a little longer than we’d thought. We missed our first train at Paddington for Looe, so decided breakfast was a good idea (it was a full English breakfast, and it was goo-ood!) Then onward to catch 12 o’clock. On the train, we had a high adrenalin surge when a man boarded and began to rant at the top of his lungs, I forget about what. A passenger finally calmed him down. David and I both went into “blank stare” mode, as did the rest of the passengers. Nothing further happened, and the man disembarked at the next stop. Whooo!

On the train from Paddington to Looe, we also experienced – quite by accident – our first “quiet car”. It was MARVELOUS. Very few people were in this car, but once we were seated, an older woman embarked, looking for her reserved seat and carrying on a conversation with herself– quite loudly.  Once she found her seat, she proceeded to take out her cell phone and start another conversation at the top of her lungs. At which point, the conductor came down the aisle and quietly (!) asked her to move to another car if she wished to use her cell, as this one was a QUIET car.  Which she did.  As she moved away, we could still hear her voice drifting back through the corridor… It was all very low key and courteous. I do love quiet cars!!

The ensuing silence,the sound of the wheels on the rail, and the foggy day lulled me into a short nap.

But I woke up as the sun burned the fog away as the day wore on – beautiful views of the sea on one side, and green fields and trees on the other. We kept telling one another not to forget to ask the conductor to drop us off at Sandplace (part of the Looe Valley Line).

How to start a fairytale?

Take a tiny train to a charmingly small station (Sandplace) the size of a postage stamp, where you have to ask the conductor to stop the train and let you disembark!

Gill, who with Martin, owns Polraen Country House, was waiting for us beyond the gate, and drove us the tenth of a mile home! Since it was a beautiful day, we had tea in the garden, and I took a deep breath. Here we are…finally, in Cornwall.

After a quick wash up, Gill drove us into Looe for dinner – to a lovely restaurant called The Old Sail Loft. I opted for fish and chips – and when the order came, the fish, which was haddock and wonderful, was as big as the side of a barn. If only I could’ve finished it! It was light and crisp and totally delish – as were the chips, all soused with vinegar. This came with mushy peas with mint, a dish I have recreated since returning home…still yummy!

Wednesday, August 23 …I awoke around 9:30 (after 35+ hours no sleep), and went: OMG breakfast is over by 10…so I dragged on some clothes and whooshed downstairs by ten to 10. David and I both ordered the full English breakfast, prepared by Martin – scrambled eggs, bacon, mushrooms, grilled tomatoes, toast and butter, hot fresh coffee, strawberries… was that ever good! (Many good memories are food-related!)

We then walked around Polraen’s garden, so intensely green it almost glowed…the day was overcast, cool and fresh with a few spits of rain, certainly not enough to prohibit our day in Polperro. I cleaned myself up, we called a taxi and we were off. Crystal Cars took us halfway down the hill into the village, and let us out close to a small stall selling whelks, cockles, prawns, and other seafood…we promised ourselves to come back for the cockles, but we never found the stall again! (Which means, of course, that we have to come back!)

We wandered around all the narrow winding streets, taking in the tiny houses interspersed with shops, restaurants, pubs and galleries.

Everywhere you looked was a picture. Houses were built into or hacked out of bedrock, stacked up on the cliffsides, looking out over steel gray seas.

As the day wore on, the cloud cover burned away, the sun came out, and everything was bathed in the soft golden sunlight.

We found the entrance to the cliff walk to Talland Bay, and I was off, leaving David peacefully ensconced on a bench looking over low hedges of flowers to the sea and headland.

It was a wonderful walk…through high hedgerows, green and vivid or else splashed with flowers from freesia to foxglove and others I don’t have a clue about.

Gardens were hidden behind rock walls covered in ivy and ferns, often with winding steps up to houses glimpsed between the trunks of trees.

I was so happy. A gentle breeze ruffled the greenery, and it was about 70 degrees.

I finally had to turn around as it was getting late, met David and we wandered into the Noughts and Crosses pub for a half pint of the local Dartmoor IPA – perfect.

And so home to Polraen Country House, where Martin made us crab and salmon sandwiches, which we ate out on the terrace in the cool air of the evening. A perfect day, in every way.

Thursday August 24…we decided to take the train to Truro and St Ives. The weather this day was absolutely beautiful from the get-go– sunny, warm with breezes. We flagged down the Sandplace train (one of my favorite things to do), and embarked for Liskeard, where we disembarked for the train to Truro via St Erth.

Only to find, after disembarking, we had about 20 minutes before we had to catch the train to St Erth, so had a coffee and then galloped uphill back to the station…

Poor David’s ankles were giving him some grief, but we made the train, changed at St Erth and got to St Ives around 4:15, only to find out we had to take the last train back at 5:30!!

Somewhere in all this, we met a genuine eccentric named Susan who, I thought, was homeless. It turned out she was married, and “lived on the line,” by which, she meant she rode the trains every day, all day long. Well known to all who lived around Looe, she was a fixture in the station and I was glad to have met her.

We managed to get to St. Ives without further incident.

The sea and sky were crystal clear, the shore just beautiful, the weather incredible.

Lots of people were holidaying…the car park by the station was packed.

But time was running by us, and after a quick coffee, we were back on the train, and got to Sandplace at 8:40… then we had dinner at The Plough. Lovely…but I was almost too tired to eat!

Friday August 25… We awoke to a cool cool morning…so fresh and clean, sunny and bright, but what a wrench to leave!!

I had my usual satisfying Polraen English breakfast…scrambled eggs, English bacon, grilled tomatoes, toast…yum-o! We’d packed the night before, but when it came time to leave, it was so hard to say goodbye to Gill and Martin and Cornwall.

I love England, but there is something about Cornwall that is magical to me..walking on the pebbled narrow streets of Polperro, Truro, St. Ives, Looe…the houses, some hundreds of years old, built into, or from, the bedrock of the cliffs…its history, of pirates and smugglers, Cornish pasties, hidden caves, the sea constantly slashing the rocks at the cliffs’ base, the narrow footpaths framed with hedgerows as old as England, sometimes too high to see down to the sea below…I adore it. Loving Cornwall goes back to my mother who was born in Mousehole, as were my grandparents and their parents…it’s in my blood.

England is magic everywhere you turn, but Cornwall has its own special brand of magic: mysterious, especially under lowering gray skies, the winds from the sea, the timelessness of path, water, air and the call of the seagulls.

Martin drove us to Sandplace Station,

and then we changed at Liskeard (but didn’t see Susan) for a three hour ride to Reading, changed again for final trek to Moreton-in-Marsh, where Steve our taxi driver picked us up.

And then on to Broadway…and a gentler, more pastoral sort of magic.

Hiking in England: From the deep country to St. Michael’s Mount and The Sign of the Angel

A field outside Lacock

Heading for the Cotswolds

“This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England” 

I’ve wanted to hike over England’s cliffs and fields for years – full days of hiking (but ending up in a bed with a bathroom – no camping for me!) in some of the most beautiful countryside on the face of the earth. I was lucky to find a friend who also wanted to spend time hiking the back roads and cliffs of Cornwall (which I had visited before) as well as revisit the Cotswolds. I had never been to the Cotswolds and Diane knew it well. So off we set….

I arrived at Gatwick right on time, and Diane waved madly across the baggage. Our first stop was the Cotswolds. We picked up the rental car, and we were on our merry way to Broadway, a beautiful small town full of atmosphere and charm. On the other side of Broadway in Wilversey, we found Lowerfield Farm, surrounded by quiet fields and country roads. It was a pretty, yellow-painted, two story stone farmhouse, with an appealing landscaped garden. Diane and I were so tired and cold when we arrived, we asked our hostess if we could get some heat turned on – but we forgot we were in England….she looked rather taken aback, saying “We don’t turn on the heat until late September!”

The bathroom had a marvelous deep tub – great for warming up. After a good soak, I climbed into bed and fell fast asleep. At 4PM, awake and ready to eat, we drove into Broadway. The overcast skies had cleared, and the sun appeared. We rambled down the street, peering into every shop window – all of which could have been lifted en toto from Dickens – all the golden Cotswolds stone – all hung with ivy and other vines, and surrounded by blooming flowers, from lavendar to double headed pink and purple petunias to bright red geraniums. Broadway is a charming town, full of atmosphere. The people are delightful- and it was not busy (at that time of year, anyway.)

A view from a bridge

A tiny pub and restaurant called The Horse & Hounds looked inviting, and a young Polish waiter with a long brown ponytail waited on us; he was very sweet. Diane and I shared a bruschetta dish (yummy), then it was on to pasta primavera, finishing off with strawberries and cream (me) and strawberries and custard (Diane)- absolutely wonderfully delicious. Unfortunately, we forgot to tip our delightful waiter…

Back at Lowerfield Farm, we found our hosts had turned on the central heat – just for us (primarily me, being a cold-blooded type). Diane planned out our Cotswold Walks – and we were once again in our beds, all warm and cosy for the night with the green fields of the Cotswolds and a profound country silence surrounding us. Note: We had an explosive toilet….

Lowerfield Farm, a view from the window the morning of the hunt

We view the hunt 

Up at 7:30, we prepared for breakfast at 8:30: Muesli, cream, coffee, pears from the garden, yoghurt and hot chocolate! Thank the lord we were hiking! As we were in the middle of breakfast, a hunt came through: we saw the masters of the hunt in their brilliant red coats, and the rest dressed in hunting green, with about 20 hounds sprawling across the front lawn. The horses were beautiful! Our next-table neighbors were three delightful ladies, who bussed in from another Cotswolds town for a few days’ vacation. They told us they spent the night baking in their rooms – someone had turned on the heat! We kept silent.

 Bibury, the Swan Hotel, Burford and the Windrush 

In Bibury

After breakfast we drove to Bibury to begin our first hike – Bibury is a beautiful little Cotswolds village with a river running through it. I was so nervous about driving on the left hand side, not to mention fielding the roundabouts. But we made it to the parking lot, and began our 6 mile walk through completely entrancing countryside – small woods, rolling hills, tiny streams. The weather was  incredible: blue skies, sunshine, warm – we started off in jackets, ended up in t-shirts. This walk took about 2-l/2 hours.

Another Bibury view

It took us back into Bibury by a different footpath, where we had lunch at The Swan Hotel, an historic old ivy-covered hotel overlooking the river. Diane had carrot soup, I had chicken tikka and chips! After this repaste, we drove to Burford to begin our second hike, which took about three hours. All told, we hiked about twelve miles today – nice!

Walking through fields of golden wheat

This particular hike was through fields of wheat cut for the winter – the imagery was gorgeous…then it’s back roads, and copses, til we reached a narrow river called the Windrush, where we saw enchanting white swans.

A swan on the Windrush

We walked through companies of cows, sheaves of sheep, and pheasants galore! Then it’s on to Stowe-on-the Wolde, where we had a light dinner (salads with feta cheese and lots of ciabatta bread…)

The Swan Hotel in Bibury

It was dark by this time, so back to Lowerfield Farm. The Cotswolds are beautiful, beautiful. I love Broadway and Bibury – small and lovely iconic English villages. But I felt really tired  — stress and jet lag catching up with me!

Stanton, Stanway, Snowshill, Buckland and Laverton

Hiking to Stanton

We were up at 7:30 as usual, and had a big breakfast: Muesli, egg and bacon, coffee. Then it’s on the road for a short drive to Stanton, which is (yet another) charming little village. First a word about the weather: it continued to astonish us how incredibly gorgeous it was. The skies had drifts of a few white clouds but the sun was shining madly, and it was 80 degrees. Everyone we met was delighted with the continuous sunshine. It was so refreshing; keeping it “hikeable” was a lovely crisp breeze. At night, the sky was clear as a bell, and the moon a harvest moon, immense and golden in the black Cotswolds sky.

An old English church graveyard

Anyway: we drove to Stanton and parked the car, preparatory for our hike from Stanton to Stanway, Snowshill, Buckland, inadvertently through Laverton and then back to Stanton. I thought Broadway delightful, but for me, these towns are the real thing! What a lovely, lovely hike. We started before 10AM, and finished around 4PM.

Laverton

Stanton is a completely charming town, and Laverton is absolutely gorgeous: Cotswolds cottages built of the sunny Cotswold stone, beautiful gardens, surrounded by the rolling hills and farmlands of the country.

On the first leg of our hike, we met a group of about twenty men and women, approximately our ages, led by a local guide. She said the men loved to talk to us “young sprigs” and we appreciated the sentiment! This is the leg of the hike that led up the steepest hill for about 30 minutes, and left me breathing hard (it wasn’t that high – I’m such a wuss). When we arrived at the top, the whole of the Cotswolds lay before us. Pictures I have seen cannot begin to describe the beauty.

Somewhere in the Cotswolds

We then hiked along a part of the Cotswolds Way, through fields, woods, over many stiles and through many gates. We walked through the enchanting village of Snowshill (in which I will actually stay a few years later) -a Cotswolds gem of a village, tiny and seemingly untouched by tourism: lovely architecture, picturesque homes dripping with flowers and beautifully and personally landscaped. Our companions left us in Snowshill, where they stopped to picnic in the old church graveyard, while Diane and I had a pub lunch – ploughman’s (cheese, bread, pickles). The sun continued to shine as we continued over hill and dale.

On a downward trek, we met a delightful woman named Maury who was in training for a hike for a cancer group, along the Great Wall of China. We had a fun conversation for half an hour, then she wound her way to somewhere else, and we continued through the fields to Stanton. We hoped. We weren’t sure where we were parked, so we walked the town and finally asked a friendly old man sitting on a bench beneath a tree: “Where are we?”

It turns out we were actually in Laverton — NOT Stanton — and were given straightforward directions to a stile around a corner down a street, then turning back into the fields at a tree. Hmm. (Laverton is another village that is a step back in time —  totally free of tourists — except us — no crowds, etc.)

We came to Stanton’s church spire, wound back through a farm, and found our car parked at the Cricket Club, where a match was taking place. Fun to watch, incomprehensible to figure out! But so nice to see those cricket whites once again.

From the top of the Broadway Folly you can get 360 degree view of the Cotswolds

Back in the car, Diane drove to the Broadway Folly, situated atop a hill, from which we got an astounding view 360 degrees of the Cotswolds. Fabulous!

Then it was back to our B&B, where we freshened up and drove to Chipping Camden for dinner and a quick walk down the main street. Great conversation at dinner, despite the fact that Diane is a Republican and I a Democrat! Then it was back to Lowerfield Farm, and so to bed. We were definitely hoping for more of this supremely gorgeous weather tomorrow, as this would be our longest hike.

Lower Slaughter, Naunton, Bourton-on-the-Water

7:30 and we’re down to breakfast (the usual fabulous feast) and by 9-ish, we were on the road for Bourton-on-the-Water, where we began our hike (about ten miles round trip, longer with side trips). We hiked through prosperous-looking farms, over farmland, through woods, besides rivers and streams – through Lower Slaughter.

On the way to Bourton-on-the-Water

A picnic lunch of crusty rolls, cheese and tomatoes in a field far from anywhere was a nice break. Then it was on to Upper Slaughter where we stopped in a pub for a drink – fabulous, incredible 80 degree weather.

Sky clear as glass. Then on to Naunton, across grassy ridges, through more woods and fields and eventually back to Bourton-on-the-Water.

Bourton-on-the-Water

The day was supremely beautiful. Why I even bothered carrying a rain jacket in my backpack I don’t know. I was actually tanning! My arms were brown as a berry. Not that many people are out and about, surprisingly. We saw a few – a very few – on the trail, and they were all very pleasant.

The mists of time

Back at Lowerfield Farm. Richard, our host, was a delightful man. We only saw him in an apron serving us breakfast, but he was invariably chipper and friendly. His wife, Jane, on the other hand, was  very distant. Richard was all jolly hockey sticks, cheery and pip-pip. I liked that. What a really lovely four days. Beautiful weather, fascinating hikes where we saw the “real” Cotswolds – real back-in-time tiny hamlets that are truly “old England.”

Dartmoor and the Warren Hill Inn

A view of Dartmoor across from the Inn

We left Lowerfield Farm (sob) and drove to the M-5, all the way to Liskeard (I was driving.) We stopped off in Chudleigh for lunch, where Diane took over. From there, it was on to Dartmoor National Park. I loved it!! So wild and desolate and full of sheep and wild ponies. Beautiful. You could imagine Heathcliff and Cathy running across the heather.

Wild ponies on Dartmoor’s heath

The sun shone all day long.

At the top of the world in the middle of nowhere on a road through Dartmoor stands the Warren Hill Inn. Here we stopped for a drink. It was a little cool out on the moors, so a wood fire was burning in the fireplace, and it was a true old-timey pub atmosphere, deep and dark. We chatted for a while with a man from Bath (incredibly crusty accent) who was looking at properties to buy for leasing to visitors. He was extremely friendly – took our pictures without a murmur.

Diane and I in front of The Warren Hill Inn in the middle of Dartmoor

 Talland Bay – and Allhays

From Warren Hill, we drove down narrow, then narrower, then even narrower lanes with high hedgerows. Through tiny villages and hamlets we drove and through some of the loveliest countryside (Dorset) which is every bit as delightful as the Cotswolds. We drove all the way to Looe, and then found Allhays on Talland Bay.

Beautiful Allhays B&B in Talland Bay

Allhays was a very lovely B&B off the beaten path <and I am very sorry to say it has since closed>. Situated on Talland Bay, between Looe and Polperro, its cream-colored stone glowed in the late afternoon light, and its bushes were heavy with hydrangeas surrounding it. The interior living room (for guests) had two lovely cream colored, soft chenille sofas, and the whole house had the French touch, with patterned draperies, beautiful pictures, and the woodwork painted in heavy high gloss cream. The carpet was cream bordering on ecru up the stairs. Annie, (one of our hosts, and French), had placed a fresh yellow rose in our lovely bedroom on the second story. The bedroom overlooked the lawn in back which led to the view of the cliffs and then the sparkling sea.

Our bathroom was the size of a pea.

When we were ready for dinner, Diane could not find the car keys. After frantically checking the car and the trail back to our room, and looking under the bed, in her backpack and various pockets, they  turned up in her purse. And so it goes….

Onward to dinner in Polperro. Yum-o. (The loo had toilet seats of fish embedded in plastic.) Back in the car on the way back to Allhays, we missed the turn in the very dark road, drove all the way to Looe and back before we finally found Allhays. Talk about two tired girls…

A tiny Polperro lane

 Polperro – a real step back in time

We were up around 7:30 and had a traditional, and delicious, English breakfast in Allhays’ sunlit breakfast room. The room was nothing but windows which looked out onto the back “garden” and all the way over the cliffs to the sea. Incredible views. Breakfast included muesli, yoghurt, homemade bread and jams, etc. Mowgli joined us for breakfast. He wanted to join us in the bedroom last night, but as Diane said “it’s the cat or me!” I had to opt for sharing the room with her! Mowgli was a beautifully marked sealpoint Siamese, sleek as a whistle, and very loving. I didn’t want to put her out (especially as I love her name), but she seemed to settle down on the landing.

On the way to Polperro

This morning we set off on our hike to Polperro (two miles coastal). A fabulous walk – all downhill – along coastal beauty that is almost ethereal. We reached Polperro, and stocked up for lunch. Me: Cornish pasty, crusty roll (still uneaten), and a tomato.

Hiking the cliffs to Polperro

I had a banana in my backpack. Diane had grapes and a raisin scone. We wandered around Polperro, and I found the Noughts and Crosses Inn – still there after all these years! Jean and Toni (good friends of mine in Houston) honeymooned at this inn 60 years ago. We rambled around and window shopped, taking pictures of the harbor, the sun shining brightly on this attractive little fishing village.

The harbor at Polperro

Then we were off on our challenging cliff walk from Polperro, round the point, then up and over the fields. The sun was intense, and the sky was clear and deep blue, while the water seen down below was silver blue. Fairy tale.

Crumbling ruin in the middle of a field on the cliffs

We walked and walked and WALKED – mostly uphill – stairs and more stairs – up and up and UP! And then across fields, again uphill, past a deserted barn into a narrow lane, and then on the downhill road to Polperro. We had been walking since 10AM, and it was now 3 o’clock. I LOVED it.

I will never tire of hiking these marvelous cliffs

Back in Polperro, we stopped for a lemonade (why does the lemonade taste so much better here than at home?) and still had two miles left to go back to Allhays – all uphill and over the cliffs. The coast road back to Allhays is often a narrow lane banked by hedges of brambles, blackberries and ferns. All along the coast these hedges were alive with butterflies, fluttering everywhere, and the hum of the bees. We finally reached Allhays in time for a shower and then it was out to dinner. Our dinner lasted three hours – we talked non-stop. Then it was back to Allhays down the dark high hedge-lined lanes. We figure we’ve clocked in about 45-50 miles to date.

The back of Allhays seen from the breakfast nook

 Over the hills and far away: Fowey, Bodinnick, Polruan, Mevagissey

Woke up at 7:30 to another glorious day. The view from our bedroom window was stunning. Off we go after our muesli, yoghurt, granary bread (home baked), and Scotch pancakes, to drive to Fowey/Bodinnick, drop off the car and begin a hike around the coast (which is projected to take about three hours.) The cliff walk was not as challenging as yesterday’s, but it was just as beautiful, and a little cooler, although the sun continued to shine shine shine.

Fowey’s harbour

We walked narrow cliff paths rimmed with blackberry bushes, ferns and brambles; deep lanes lined high with hedgerows; past ancient churches; over fields and streams – the silver sea looked like a mirage –incredibly clear, incredibly beautiful under the sun, and stretching to the far blue horizon.

Over the hills…

We had eaten a good breakfast, and weren’t hungry, until we came back around through Polruan, where we stopped for a quick bite. It was very interesting and odd that we met yet again – for the third time – a man we had first met yesterday leaving Polperro for the long hike. We met him again on the way back to Polperro, and now again in Fowey…small world!

And far away…

Fowey (pronounced Foy) is a pretty town. Lots of people were out and about, as they were in Polperro, which is the quintessential fishermen’s village: houses hang from the cliffs, steep, steep lanes and roads everywhere, flower boxes on every possible wall, door, corner, eave, restaurant front – the ever-present sea breeze cooling us off – and the seagulls squawking. We were not supposed to feed the seagulls. They’re “dirty” and “dangerous” birds, according to one old-timer. One bird even had a “Wanted” poster – full face, left and right profile…

An incredible view of the bay

The Fowey/Polruan hike was wonderful – weather, sunshine, paths, views, length of hike and nice people everywhere. “Where are you from?” is the ubiquitous question. So many people had been to Florida or Texas. One man sitting on the bench atop the cliffwalk asked “What do the American people now think of Bush?”, and we ask about Blair (“Some question his honesty!”)

Fields like this are part of Cornwall’s charm

We caught the ferry back from Polruan to Fowey, and then another from Fowey to Bodinnick. Our car park was up an extremely steep road – took about half an hour to reach it. We then decided to take the ferry across to the road to Mevagissey, a supposedly beautiful Daphne Du Maurier haunt. I think she was born around there; there were certainly enough bookstores prominently displaying her books, her photographs and other memorabilia – but Mevagissey was such a letdown. It was tourism taken to the extreme, full of tacky shops and non-descript architecture, not in the least bit picturesque or attractive. And yet some literature noted it as “One of the prettiest villages in England!” Not!!

Even the architecture – houses and shops – was totally undistinguished. We walked around for half an hour, then got our car and drive back – in rush hour traffic – to the ferry, then we stopped to pick up some picnic items for dinner, and so back to our beautiful Allhays to pack.

Marazion and St. Michael’s Mount 

Up and away from Allhays by 9:30 (sob) after our usual yummy breakfast, which this time included stewed plums. The day was overcast – our first overcast day since arriving. We drove from Polperro to Penzance, another tourist mecca, down narrow high hedge-rowed lanes, trees arching overhead, ferns sprouting from the hedgerows. Once in Penzance, we found Tourist Information, and they found us a B&B overlooking Mount St. Michael. Not the best B&B, but two beds (very comfy) and a shower en-suite (important!)

The toilet in our bathroom was a cracker: you flushed, and it sounded much like a steam engine coming to boil … then it was a bang and a BANG BANG BANG CLATTER CLATTERCLATTERCLATTER!! Incredible. The noise seemed to go on for ages. And the tap over the sink also startled you out of your wits when you turned it on, causing another major BANG from the toilet.

From the sublime to the ridiculous! Actually, it was funny as hell. We couldn’t help laughing because it was so uniquely LOUD.

The ferry from Marazion to St Michael’s Mount

Anyway, we left the luggage and drove into Marazion, parked and took the ferry to St. Michael’s Mount. Filled with history, beautiful and eerie. We walked uphill to the top of the mount, and toured the castle and the grounds. The “docents” in the castle (for want of a better word) were charming and knowledgeable. One old gentleman, in talking about Lord and Lady Leven, impressed on us how delightful Lady Leven was (she had died unexpectedly at age 69). “Yes, madam always said ‘good morning’ and ‘isn’t it a lovely morning?’ when she came across us.”  In re-reading this, I think: How very Downton Abbey!

The road up to the castle

After exploring, we walked back down the (very very steep) hill to the causeway. By now, the tide was out and we were able to actually walk back to the mainland (Diane loved this! and so did I!)

The tide is out, enabling us to walk the causeway back to the mainland

Then it’s back to our odd little B&B. After some discussion, we decided to drive to Land’s End (at 5PM) for a quick 1-2 hour hike across the cliffs there.

First and last refreshment house in England - Land's End

First and last refreshment house in England – Land’s End

On reaching Land’s End, we quickly parked and walked through the tourist excrescence fronting the cliffs. There were one or two couples around, and it was very quiet and dim, heavy clouds scudding across the sky.

Dusk at Land’s End

We ambled across the slowly eroding cliffs for about 1-1/2 hours as the twilight deepened, and the wind blew, making it all very mysterious and atmospheric.

Hiking at Land’s End

We then drove back 12 miles to Marazion, leaving our car at the B&B, and walked to the King’s Arms for dinner (the dinner took 2 hours arriving!). Then back to our B&B and a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow, Lacock and Castle Combe!

Lacock’s main street

Lacock – at the Sign of the Angel – and Castle Combe 

We were up and out of the B&B in Marazion by 9, after a hearty breakfast (surprisingly good.) Then it was driving, driving and more driving. We drove through Glastonbury, but did not stop. This was not an attractive town! And this is twice I have visited areas fabled as the birthplace/resting place of King Arthur, and twice have been disappointed! The first was Tintagel, now it was Glastonbury…maybe it’s me. Nonetheless, we have driven through beautiful country, and we were now in Wiltshire, just coming into Lacock, around 5PM. This is where “Pride and Prejudice” was filmed (is there any other Mr. Darcy than Colin Firth? I think not.)

The Sign of the Angel in Lacock

What an exquisite little town! It’s fifteenth century, and owned by the National Trust. We were lucky enough to get two rooms in The Sign of the Angel, where we ducked down through the doors, and where the floors all sloped. The rooms were enchanting, and as no twin bedded-room was available we opted to each have our own room. Both were en-suite, with big bathtubs to wallow in, which we did! My room was painted deep pink, with burgundy carpet, white iron queen sized bed, feather pillows and bolsters, old antique furniture – and somewhere, there was a resident ghost! It said so on the little marquee in the old hallway.

The George pub and inn in Lacock

This afternoon, the sun was back out and after wandering around the town (which takes about 5 minutes), Diane and I bought English newspapers and took them to the adorable little pub, The George. The door was open wide and inside it was everything a pub should be – and more. I ordered a cuppa, and Diane an apple cider, and we sat in a corner and I read the Guardian – so very civilized and literary as we were. I loved this place.

The small restaurant at Sign of the Angel

Next was dinner. Downstairs was the Angel’s unbelievably charming dining room – the food is fabulous – salads, baked goat cheese on toasted olive bread, wonderful veggies, crusty rolls and deep yellow butter. (I have eaten far more on this trip than I would ever eat at home – I hope! But then – we are hiking. Excuses, excuses…)

After dinner, Diane and I walked down the tiny lamplit streets under a clear black velvet night sky full of stars (I am sure she wishes Robert were there instead of just me…)

Lacock’s charming houses

The windows in several houses were uncurtained and we were able to look into the glowing small yellow-lit living rooms and dining rooms of these ancient homes built in the time of Shakespeare.

Then we packed for the drive back to Gatwick tomorrow, (after we see Castle Combe) and I’m sitting up against my feather bolsters finishing my journal (more or less.) I have seen and done much – Diane has really pushed me to do more than I even conceived of– and I am so grateful. It has been really wonderful, and I’ve learned so much about England. It is good to know there are still the ancient towns, the footpaths (all 1,500 of them) and back roads, the hedgerows, stiles and kissing gates on this jolly old island.

Castle Combe

Up early to breakfast downstairs… We had porridge with brown sugar and cream! I thought I’d died and gone to heaven (there’s the sign, you see.) We were also offered fresh raspberries, strawberries, blackberries and a hot breakfast.

It was a misty morning as we left Lacock for Castle Combe. We took a wrong turn somewhere, but managed to eventually find the road, passing through towns called Tiddleywinks and Shepton Mallet, to yet another entrancing small village. We parked in the car park, and walked down a steep hill right into Jane Austen country.

An early morning walk in Castle Combe

Beautiful (for want of a better word) tiny stone and brick homes and shops framed in ivy, or flowering or berried vines. We wandered about the town in a happy daze, then began our hike through the surrounding countryside. The morning mist slowly began to burn away with the sun eventually breaking through, and the day clears as we walked in quiet woods where beech leaves dropped to the ground, sounding like the patter of tiny feet following us.

A walk around Castle Combe

Across fields and climbing over stiles and gates and crossing streams, we managed to again get lost! We finally found the main road behind a farm, and wound up at Castle Combe, where we stopped at a most adorable little pub for a quick drink. Then we rambled around a delightful tiny shop that has the most perfect things: pictures, objets, pottery, photography — all so beautiful, you wanted to buy out the shop. I didn’t (surprise!) but Diane made some inroads…

Lunch at the Castle Inn Hotel – more cheese

Then it was back to our lovely elegant pub for a quick lunch. We sat outside in the sunshine, watching as about 30 Japanese wandered into town. Moments later, about 15 bikers zoomed in and parked in the square. Even here, time doesn’t stand still….

And as it moves on,  we had to begin thinking of getting on our way. We walked back up the hill to the car park, the sun by now shining so brilliantly, it was intensely hot. And then it was on the road to our hotel at Gatwick, a quick bath and dinner, and so to bed. We had to be ready at 7AM to catch the hotel bus to the airport by 9AM. We have seen so many beautiful, traditional, wonderful sights on this trip — been transported back to a quieter, cozier and less frenetic time…

People tell me old England, the backroads and coastal towns, are disappearing or changing beyond recognition. Maybe so…but not for me. On this hike, England was everything – and more – that I hoped it would be. I love England…I always will.