September 2nd 2017
Today we journeyed around the Cotswolds. We woke up to news of a sunny day and wanted to make the most of it, and Alice left it to me to decide where to go. I hate that. Too much pressure. Even though she kept repeating “I don’t care, you decide,” she rejected the first three places I suggested. Naturally.
The seventh or eighth suggestion was agreeable to her, so we jumped in the car and headed deep into the Cotswolds. Where we are in the West of England, when you get a bit further down the road you end up in the part of the country where the names of towns sound made up.
Like, we drove through a place called ‘Farmington’. That sounds sarcastic. But it isn’t.
Directly north of Farmington there’s a little constellation (definitely the wrong word in this context) of towns with made-up sounding names, and that’s where we ended up.
Stow-on-the-wold, Moreton-in-marsh and Bourton-on-the-water. Yes, the road signs include the hyphens. No, I don’t know what a ‘wold’ is. I barely know what a marsh is. I thought it was synonymous with a swamp.
We eventually got to Moreton-in-marsh (no marsh in sight) and there was a crowd of people following signposts to ‘Moreton show’, which happens once a year and explains the traffic. We had no idea it was going on, but decided to join the crowd and head to the show. That idea lasted about as long as it took for my phone to find GPRS signal after a Google search of ‘Moreton show ticket prices’.
We turned around.
And went for a fry-up instead.
We walked around Moreton-in-marsh for a bit and then headed to Bourton-on-the-water. (This time I understood the name).
It’s all very British round here. There were literal coach loads of foreign tourists taking photos of the ducks. That being said, I was also taking photos of the ducks.
There’s a hedge replica of the car called Brum (If you know, you know, if you don’t then I don’t know either) outside of the motoring museum in which actual Brum is stored. Because of course there is.
There was a little village fete going on in the forecourt of a church (obviously) so we bought some century-and-a-half-year-old books and 10 tickets to the tombola. Alice won a TV Quiz game from 1994 and a pair of headphones, I won a torch.
We went for dinner in Sapperton, at one of our favourite restaurants. I had lamb chops, and it was the kind of lamb chop where you could’ve sucked the marrow out of the bone if you wanted to.
I didn’t want to.
I’m usually more of a big city boy, but today I enjoyed being Cotswoldian.
Until tomorrow, it was cute and quaint and everything had bunting.