Blighty 2025 - Bourton-on-the-Water

 

We decided to visit Bourton-on-the-Water, the scarily pretty Cotswold village that sits astride the River Windrush. I say river, it's not much more than a stream, but the good elders of Bourton have seen fit to build little bridges over the river and to keep the whole place picturesque. In retrospect, maybe a Bank Holiday Monday wasn't the best day to visit.

I knew it would be busy, but I didn't anticipate that half of Birmingham would be there (judging by the accents), nor the coachloads of foreign tourists. That was my error, I suppose.

The run over from Shipton was easy enough, apart from the entitled twat in a Range Rover (what else round here?) who decided he'd pull across and block a mini-roundabout when his exit wasn't clear, Nice move, holding up traffic in two directions. I'm still getting used to the 20mph speed limit in all the villages you pass through in England, but I'm not complaining because I think it's actually a good idea, but I still have to check myself as I hit that limit sign. It seems that the majority of drivers are OK with the very low limit because compliance seems quite high. It also helps that the rented car we have has a little audible alarm that goes off every time I go over said limit. I've a few weeks to get used to it all, I guess.

The car park at Bourton, or at least the one on Rissington Road, was a nightmare, with people waiting for others to vacate slots, but blocking up others trying to enter or leave. It was GBP4.50 for two hours, which is a bit steep, but there was no shortage of takers.

The village itself was heaving with visitors, which made walking beside the river a wee bit hazardous. You'd only get wet shoes if you were knocked in, but who wants wet shoes?

We went into the famous Bourton Model Village, a walk around model layout of the actual village, originally constructed in 1936 and used the same materials for the model houses that the real buildings were made of. It's not very big, and the pathways are small, but we were sharing our visit with so many other people that it made things a little difficult. It didn't help that people were trying to get photos of each other in among the buildings, and the people milling around. With so many people jammed in there, I gave that pleasure a miss.

After the Model Village, which frankly was a bit of a let down, and rather shabbily exited you out to the front door of a bar in the New Inn next door, it was time to brave the crowds along the river. When I say crowds, I do mean crowds, and there were hoards of dogs in the mix as well, and yet more people trying for photographs of each other in amongst the throng. It was all a bit much for poor Charlie, who had had enough and forced us back to the car. Ah, still, we did manage a visit.

The run home uneventful, and we were able to see many of the re-introduced birds of prey, the Red Kites, wheeling around above the farmland. They really are fabulous birds, and so successful after breeding pairs from Wales and Spain were set up in the Chiltern Hills in 1990. Goodness knows how many of them are flying now, but they've spread a long way from the Chilterns in the intervening 35 years. Read about their success here.

Tomorrow is a big day, up "in the smoke". Stay tuned for more exciting adventures.

Blighty 2025 - In another country

 

It was a late start for us today. Well, not for me, I was wide awake at 6:45 in the morning, but no one else surfaced before 11am. I was being very calm, though, and the plan for the day looked like it may have to be limited, but we could still do the main part.

We set a course for Raglan Castle, near Raglan, Monmouthshire. Those with a keen eye for geography will know that Monmouthshire is in Wales (just), and is another country.

Our Satnav set us on a cross-country route that avoided any centre of population, except Stow-on-the-Wold, and had us go north on the M5 for a bit, then south west for quite a while on the M50. The route was a little longer than the more direct A40, but the motorway sections made it quite a bit quicker. It was a good choice of route, too.

The run to Stow was certainly bucolic; mile after mile of narrow lanes, twists and turns, and a few small hills and dales. The countryside around these parts is wonderful, with mature woodland, hedgerows and small hillocky hills. If you know about this part of the world then you'll also know that it's famed for its wool, and even now the hillsides were dotted with sheep. Burford, Stowe, and the rest, may have lost their trade in wool, but it's still being produced in these parts, which was quite reassuring.

The only thing that didn't quite ring true was the overwhelming evidence of money. Farmers can be wealthy, for sure, but there were too many Aston Martins, Porsches, Mercedes Benz, Range/Land Rovers about to belong to the farmers. Then there were the big, expensive houses dotted around, none with sheep sheds or tactors. I recently heard the Cotswolds described as Britain's answer to the Hamptons in the USA, and I'd say that was becoming a fair statement. Stow-on-the-Wold was teeming with expensive cars and expensive looking people (it's the long weekend here). I guess they have to live somewhere.

The run over towards the M5, a few miles north of Cheltenham, was a little less like the Hamptons, but just as enjoyable as the run up to Stow.

I had never been on the M50 before today. It's a short, two-lane motorway running down to Ross-on-Wye, where it links up with the A40 heading west into South Wales. This being a long weekend, there was plenty of traffic, but we made good time and were rolling up the access road to Raglan Castle pretty much on schedule, despite the late start.

I won't go on about the castle too much, except to say that it was established in the 1200s to help with the defence of England (from the Welsh), and had been in constant use as a big home rather than a defensive stronghold, right up until its partial demolition by Oliver Cromwell's Parliamentarians after the end of the English Civil War in 1653. It now stands as a craftily restored ruin, and is as beautiful a ruined castle as you'll ever see.

Because it was the long weekend, there was lots of other "stuff" going on at the castle, including a Medieval Murder Mystery, with people dressed up in period costumes and demonstrating some period crafts. Personally I'm not much into this dressing up thing, but it certainly added a bit of colour.

We wandered around the castle, went up to the top of the Keep and enjoyed a splendid view, then ate our picnic lunch in the castle grounds, which was all most enjoyable, despite the blustery wind. I should also mention the Swallows whizzing about the ruins. I had never seen a proper British Barn Swallow before going to Raglan some years ago, and here were the Swallows, almost certainly related to the ones I'd seen before, rushing in and out of the ancient building. Excellent stuff.

Obviously we raided the gift shop before leaving, it would be impolite not to, and kept Cadw, the castle's stewards, going for a few more months. 

We had planned to maybe visit Goodrich Castle, a "proper" fortification built on a cliff above the River Wye, but were really short on time, so we headed south down through the steep-side valley cut by that same river, and made our way to Tintern Abbey. There are quite a few ruined abbeys in the Britain, set up by various orders of monks, then sacked by King Henry the Eighth as part of his break with the Holy Roman Church. Tintern is one, and goodness is it ever a beautiful place? On a bend in the river, the ruins stand tall against the steep valley sides and look just fabulous. We hadn't planned on going in, it was just closing up for the day anyway, but just to admire the place from the pub garden next door (with a pint of Welsh beer in hand, of course) was enough.

Then it was time to head home. We made our way back into England on the old Severn Bridge, with no toll going eastwards. The Bristol Channel is impressive, but it was seriously windy out in the middle. On the M4, outside Swindon, we stopped at a motorway service station and the girls topped up vegan pasty and sausage roll supplies from Greggs and the West Cornwall Pasty Company. Service stations are not the most exciting places on earth, but when the shops like Greggs are very much a novelty for the overseas visitor, they seem quite exotic. Not so much excitement for the petrol, of course, because it was a full twenty-five pence a litre more expensive than anywhere else - that hasn't changed since my days in England.

On the way home we stopped for a very bland take-out pizza at Dominoes in Carterton, well it is the long weekend, and rolled back into Shipton at around seven in the evening. A long day, for sure, but really very interesting, and successful given the late start. And it didn't rain!

Tomorrow, as they say, is another day.