The last day is, in fact, a very short one. I do not really feel like riding much, and after …
Day 8: Back Home
02 sabato Giu 2018
Posted 2018 Cotswolds, Uncategorized
in02 sabato Giu 2018
Posted 2018 Cotswolds, Uncategorized
inThe last day is, in fact, a very short one. I do not really feel like riding much, and after …
01 venerdì Giu 2018
Posted 2018 Cotswolds, Uncategorized
in
The day begins very early and not in a good way. I wake up after midnight with a light headache and go down in the kitchen for an Aspirine. Suddenly a lens falls from the spectacles. The tiny screw which held it in place is still on them, though. I put myself to work trying to re-screw that tiniest of screws in place, with the lens in it, without any fitting screwdriver; actually, I will have to use my nails.
As I am working on this with the due amount of patience, on a level space above what used to be the fireplace, the thought flashes to just switch to the reserve spectacles…
and on the very moment when I realise that the reserve spectacles are, in fact, in Oxford in the pannier of the bike (and it is therefore absolutely capital that the tiny screw is not lost) the little bastard falls and goes God knows where, very likely ( I know that because I have searched everywhere else like a madman) somewhere behind the old cast iron stove, in a region totally inaccessible to me with either hands or implements and very, very dark.
I feel somewhat distraught as without sight correction I am functionally an invalid. That the screw of the spectacles should… screw me just when the bike is broken and the reserve spectacle are 40 miles away is just the ticket. How are the odds….
I keep searching in the faint bulb light, but it is clearly a desperate endeavour. I go to sleep again after more than one hour feeling like a cripple, wondering how I could let the screw fall (I know the answer: they are so damn tiny!), and whether it is legal to drive with, basically, only one functioning eye.
In the morning, I first inform myself about the legality of driving with one functioning lens, which is fine if I can read a reg number twenty meters away with the good eye. I go out for a walk and the test is amply passed, which is excellent news. However, a 40 minutes walk is enough to give me a headache as my brain struggles to adapt to the new conditions and “strains” the lens-less eye.
I then go to the landlord in the nearby pub, and he kindly lends me some sellotape to try to fix the second lens as I can. The view is impaired by the sellotape (it is officially “clear”, but when you put it on you realise it is yellowish and rather opaque), but it is still better than having only one lens, and one can hope that the headache will cease. I need to drive to get to Stroud, but again I am now, in a way, “equipped” to drive with a sellotaped spectacle lens if needs be. I plan to ask an optician whether he can make me some kind of emergency spectacles with lenses he has in the shop, as I do not hope that they will have the screws for no-name spectacles bought on the internet years ago, and very likely from China.
Very happily, it turns out that the tiny spectacle screws are…. standardised!
A huge “thank you” goes to the local Specsavers shop, where I hoped to be told “we obviously don’t have spare parts for your internet-purchased spectacles, but we will have your new Emergency Spectacles ready in the early afternoon” and get told instead “Yes, it’s only the screw missing. Can you please wait here?” and after less than ten minute receive perfectly repaired and clean spectacles. They don’t want any money, they positively refuse when I insist in offering. Not for the first time, I notice they are excellent people, Specsavers.
I drive home with a newly-found eagle eyesight and in a state of semi-euphoria, have a wonderful lunch, a small rest and then get in the car heading for Oxford.
No problems and no dramas there: the wheel is not damaged, the Nazi electronics is (and I quote) “sorted”, the bike was even washed! The new rear tyre, including everything, comes to £215, which I find very fair for an official dealership. They take care of the rental car.
At 3:45 p.m. I am again in the saddle of my BMW, around 28 hours after the puncture, with everything fine and some of the missed time actually not really missed because of the heavy rain I would have had to endure anyway. Not so bad after all. The old tyre had 11,000 miles with me only, plus the miles with the first owner; therefore, not really a loss on that front, either.
I visit more villages, ride through a fairly “deserted” landscape at times (like between Charbury and Burford), find the usual mess in Burford, enjoy all the Rissingtons (there are several of those), Lower and Upper Slaughter, and then stop for a walk and a beer in Bourton-upon-the-Water. I am now in an excellent mood as in non-invalid mode, with reserve spectacles in the panniers, a functioning bike and a nice, fresh beer in front of me. From Bourton I head home via Cold Aston and sit in the garden, on a beautiful evening, writing travel notes. Strangely, today – for the first time – there is no constant droning of bumblebees at all. Perhaps they are all away for the weekend.
Learning point: always, always have your reserve spectacles with you.
And some sellotape…
31 giovedì Mag 2018
Posted 2018 Cotswolds, Uncategorized
inOn the Thursday there is heavy rain forecast for the afternoon after 2 p.m. Therefore, I plan a “long morning” with late lunch, hoping for the better in the late afternoon.
I ride to Bibury and then Burford again, and follow my own Cotswolds route from the sat nav. The sun shines at time and it is, in general, quite a fine morning. It is difficult to think that there will be a storm in the afternoon, but in the meantime I have learned that a beautiful morning does not prevent a miserable afternoon.
More than 110 happy miles go by among those villages already mentioned many times on this blog; then, a bit after 11 AM, I get a flat back tire, and I mean really flat.
I call BMW breakdown who, uncharacteristically, make several mistakes. Firstly, they tell me that my breakdown policy has expired (wrong, and it takes a while for them to get to the bottom of it); then they struggle to locate me because, rather unbelievably, they cannot work with the GPS coordinates of my sat nav. Thirdly, when I call again to be sure that they are coming to collect me and the bike I get a very weird “there is no log for your call” and everything must be done again.
However, after less than an hour the recovery is there, and we head to BMW Oxford. I note here that, when we try to load the bike on the van, the bike refuses to start. I think (as does the breakdown recovery guy) that the electronics of the bike automatically shuts down the engine because it “knows” that one tire is flat. Another beautiful example of Nazi Nannying, which forces us to load the bike on the van by force of arms.
When we arrive at BMW Oxford, another mistake happens as I am only offered the choice between hotel and taxi home. I answer, more than a tad peeved, “well no, I WANT a car or bike until my bike is repaired!” and the guy on the other side realises that yes, I can have that. Finally, I get a Hyundai i40 (I have insisted on a manual car, therefore no BMW available) and I head for home, the day now irremediably compromised but at least with the ability to drive back to the cottage. The bike should be ready tomorrow afternoon, which is just in time as I have to vacate the cottage Saturday morning.
As I drive back, I receive another call: apparently there is a recovery vehicle looking for me on the place where I got the flat tire around five hours before. Good Lord. I explain patiently what has happened, and the lady on the other side wants me to wait on the phone until she gets confirmation that I am, in fact, not at the place where the puncture happened. Funny lady. I answer to her that no, I am pretty sure of where I am and do not need to wait for them to confirm the fact. I will, therefore, wish a good evening because the day wasn’t an entirely pleasant one and I need to resume my drive home.
It’s the first time in my life that I drive a diesel. The Hyundai is not very impressive in its interior, but it is comfortable and surprisingly quiet. The “torque surge” (which dies after a while) moves the car fairly effortlessly in normal traffic situations, but I still prefer the “power curve” of the good old petrol engine. Thankfully, my day isn’t made even more miserable by having to drive one of those strange cars without a clutch pedal; something which makes me feel very disconnected from the driving, with no use for an entire leg and very, very old.
The rain starts at around 4 p.m. and it is very light at the start, but by 5 p.m. we have the strong rain promised in the morning. I get back home under the heavy rain and forget (as I will do tomorrow) to take a picture of the car, painted in a very pleasant dark grey metallic tone. Not a pleasant day, but at least I am in one piece, in my cottage, with transport provided, and hopefully a new tire tomorrow.
30 mercoledì Mag 2018
Posted 2018 Cotswolds, Uncategorized
in
Today marks the start of the second part of the holiday, which is always linked to a light feeling of sadness. The sadness is made worse by the rain, which is copious. I end up staying home all morning with no signs of rain intensity decreasing. This is another half day lost, and that is the end of that.
In the early afternoon I ride out under a now much softer rain. I head to nearby Mickleton, a nice village where I had chanced to ride once or twice before. Mickleton’s biggest claim to fame is very probably the Three Ways House Hotel, “home of the Pudding Club”. This appears to be, in short, a restaurant meal centred around 7 different puddings. Not for those on a diet.
I do not fancy such a calories intake and ride on to visit Lower Slaughter, Bourton-on-the-Water, Blockley, Chipping Campden, Broadway, and Stow-on-the-Wold. From there I ride to Burford, which has a huge queue – worse than I have ever experienced during the weekend; and I thought I would find less traffic during the week! – before the red light on the side of the little bridge. Once passed the bridge, on the other direction the queue goes all the way to the big roundabout on the other side. It frankly mars the experience for the pedestrian tourist looking for that “old times feeling”, though as a driver I could imagine worse than to have to queue at that red light on my drive back from work. From Burford I ride to Malmesbury, and after that it is refuelling and straight home because I am a bit tired.
Lower Slaughter was exactly as nice as I remembered it from past visits. Mickleton was also nice but in my eyes not at the level of the bigger and more characterful Minchinhampton. Bourton-on-the-Water was surprisingly full of tourists, and quite attractive, even under the very dark sky.
All in all, this was a fairly beautiful half-day and, as always, an enchanting region of England. If it was not for the rain, I thought. Alas, there can be worse than the rain…
29 martedì Mag 2018
Posted 2018 Cotswolds, Uncategorized
inTuesday Morning, “and the sky is grey” ( © The Mamas & The Papas). I decide to ride to Bath, a place where I have already been several times but which I need to see in order to ride the Cotswolds “from one end to the other”. Bath, with its beautiful limestone palaces witnessing its prestigious past (in Jane Austen’s time it rivalled London in elegance and splendour) is very interesting to ride through. However, on a Tuesday morning the traffic is really atrocious and, in fact, reminds one of Central London indeed. What is, in the end, more interesting than the stop-and-stop-and-stop-and-go in the city centre is, undoubtedly, the road to get there, with the A46 way above expectations and a pleasure to ride on.
I reflect now that even after being in the Cotswolds on many occasions, this is the first time that I ride there during a working day. This morning, and the following days, will disabuse me of the notion that it is better to ride during the weekdays than on the weekends, when an army of tourists come from pretty much everywhere. Another lesson learned.
Riding back, I visit Chipping Sodbury again. It surprises me that Chipping Sodbury is outside of the AONB, as I do not see any reason why such a beautiful corner of the Cotswolds should not benefit of the same perks (and, obviously, burdens) as the rest. But hey, who am I to judge? Chipping Sodbury is far more interesting to ride through today than yesterday, because the later hour makes it far more lively. However, the kitchen beckons and, after refuelling and buying more food, I am back at Headquarters.
After the usual lunch (and short after-lunch rest) I would, actually, want to ride to Tetbury. However, the weather forecast says rain in the south west, but no rain in the north east. Therefore, I head towards the little near village of Minchinhampton, which proves not too little and, actually, quite a surprise. From there I head toward Painswick, a place I had already visited with the car in the past and found one of the most enchanting corners in the Cotswolds. This time some of the magic is gone because the glorious sun of the past two occasions is not there, but the village is still very pleasant under the grey sky. From there it is Winchcombe, another one of those quintessential Cotswolds villages, with attached Sudeley Castle. Winchcombe is particularly dear to me because it was, many years ago, my first tourism destination in the Cotswolds, and when I arrived there I though I had landed on another planet. After Winchcombe, where I stop for a joyless walk under the depressing grey sky, I ride to Broadway again, as this is a place I now seem to feel the need of visiting every day. On the way there, a custom bike is standing, engine idling away on neutral, on the other side of the road, his driver possibly waiting for a companion: it has a custom tank, painted in gray, with a black eagle on the side and that writing: Moto Guzzi. It sounds extremely beautiful (much better than the modern V7 spotted in Chipping Norton) and very audible at idle. Must be a carburettor special on the basis of a SP I, or the like. Beautiful work. This would be, alas, the second and last Guzzi spotted in the entire trip. It is sad to see a glorious make, that I love tenderly, slowly disappear and become largely confined to oldtimer bikes and bikes that try to be oldtimers. As President Trump would say:
Sad. So Sad.
In Broadway I do what I normally cannot do: have a beer peacefully sat in a beer garden, without a horde of tourists taking all the place. But once again, that “Cotswolds feeling” does not come up, as behind my beer glass a stubborn greyness gives the tone.
I then decide to head for home a bit earlier, and this time pick the same route that I had already used in that beautiful Sunday afternoon. After a while a very soft “almost rain” (more like a spray) starts to come down, and it is so light that one struggles to even notice it, with at least twenty minutes before finding recognisably wet roads. Still, it is never more than what we Italians call “four drops”, and I arrive to HQ so satisfied with the ride that I decide to classify this as a “dry” afternoon for “rain damage evaluation purposes”. Which, then, makes of this the second rain-free day in a row.
160 very grey miles today.
28 lunedì Mag 2018
Posted 2018 Cotswolds, Uncategorized
inDay 3 is a holiday Monday, and I decide to avoid the usual tourist magnets today as there will be ample occasion in the next days. The picturesque one-way bridge in Burford, for example, generates huge queues during sunny weekends, and Bourton-Upon-The-Water makes it difficult to find a place for a beer outside without at least a huge queue. I am not an Englishman, you see. Queues don’t attract and even excite me. Better not, then.
In the morning I head toward the south. I visit Wotton-under-Edge, which is nicer than its not-so-stellar reputation, then Chipping Sodbury, beautiful but a bit dead so early in the morning. From there up to Tetbury, which I find very nice and where I want to stop some other day. The Sky is prevalently light-grey, but no rain and no cold. From Tetbury it is back to HQ for lunch.
In the afternoon it is still clouded; but, again, no rain, and should get better later on. Again, I decide to avoid the big centres. I ride through a real string of pearls: Naunton, Stanton, Broadway, Blockley, Stow, Bourton-on-the-Hill, Chipping Campden. The Pubs, when seen from the road, appear all packed, but no doctor has prescribed a pub stop. Broadway is, again, absolutely spectacular. Of all enchanting villages in the Cotswolds this one really takes the biscuit, and wins my own very personal “Cotswolds Crown”.
The roads are amazing all round. It is basically impossible to do anything wrong on any road numbered B40XX, which is an awful lot of roads. Even the A roads are generally single-carriageway and quite leafy and pleasant.
I ride back from Broadway deciding to avoid yesterday’s (beautiful) road and try something faster. I also want to see whether I can trace my way from Chipping Campden to HQ without any indication from the Satnav or even a map. It works a treat, and I reflect that this is what I would have done in the old “map on the tank” days. Yes, it can be done and it works well, as you link the major centres in the proper order (first towards Cirencester, than Stroud, then I remembered the way from memory, then finally the “Bussage” indication). However, the satnav can find better roads, and I still think the bike satnav the best invention since the carburetor, not regretting even one of the £600 spent on my extremely fast, spectacularly efficient BMW Sat Nav VI. I return at HQ after an extremely pleasant afternoon; the day was not so sunny as yesterday, but also less warm.
190 happy miles today.
27 domenica Mag 2018
Posted 2018 Cotswolds, Uncategorized
in
The strong rain of the evening and night, which has kept me awake for part of the night, means a thunderstorm alert in the morning. I decide to go out anyway with a small programme, starting with Cirencester.
I knew the place already, but always found it beautiful in a solemn, stately way untypical for the Cotswolds. The main square has been renovated, and has now way less cars, with more free space in the middle of the square allowing to better appreciate the fine architecture of the place. Bike parking appears fine, albeit I do not understand whether it is legal or merely “tolerated”. The place is, as always, very tidy and very elegant, a bit of a contrast to the undoubtedly shabbier Stroud.
I don’t stop because of the coming thunderstorm, and decide to ride towards Bibury. Bibury is a small, very fine little village, whose main claim to fame probably resides in the picturesque corner dominated by “The Swan”, a hotel allegedly loved by Japanese tourists. Today at least the stereotype seems confirmed, as the place is full of them. I ride around with the bike before deciding to ride back to HQ. As I ride back it begins to rain, then the rain turns to hail. I arrive at HQ under a strong rain, but short of the now expected thunderstorm.
I cook my lunch without any haste and, in time, the strong weather gives way to your typical British, fine but insisting, light rain, whilst the expected thunderstorm never really hits the place. The thunderstorm has probably landed elsewhere, but at Cotswolds HQ it is still cold, damp and grey. For a short moment I think of staying home for the afternoon, then I decide to ride anyway, and go out before 3 pm with now intermittent rain.
On the way to Kingham the sun comes up; timid at first, then stronger. Kingham is beautiful, but I disagree with Country Life, who call it pretty much the best village in the Cotswolds. I for myself think at the very least Broadway, Chipping Campden and Painswick clearly superior. Still, it is a nice place indeed in this now unexpectedly sunny afternoon. I stop for a refreshing pint at the local “Wild Rabbit”. The service is very slow, but the beer (Ubu) excellent and the nice, shadowy beer garden very inviting.
Suitably refreshed, I head towards the east and land in Chipping Norton. Here I sight my first Guzzi of the holiday: it is a modern V7 in a sort of “military green”. The sound is pleasant, but it falls short of old carburettors Guzzis like my beloved SP I and SP II. From there I head towards Charlbury via Enstone, and – as I realise later – ride out of the Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty. But I don’t notice it, because really, it’s all beautiful over here. Charlbury is even more appealing than yesterday in the now almost scorching sun; therefore, I stroll around with the bike a while, thinking that another beer would be a tad too much.
By now the weather is absolutely glorious, and when I arrive to Broadway, past 6 pm and therefore with closed shops, the atmosphere of the place is so magic I would want it to last forever. I park here and have a stroll. Of all the Cotswolds villages I love, this one has a very special place in my heart and in my memories. It has everything: the dreamy village atmosphere but also a liveliness – due to the pubs, shops and museums – you don’t always find elsewhere. No picture can do justice to the special “air” I always find here.
To me, Broadway really is the “ideal village”, and the views of the surrounding countryside gently sloping south of High Street (and wonderful as you ride down Snowshill Road) must be among of the most beautiful in all of the Cotswolds.
At a quarter to Seven I start to ride back, through panoramic roads, along what I understand to still be part of the Cotswolds Edge, via Taddington and Andoversford. Wonderful views open themselves to me whenever the hedges alongside the road open. I also ride through vast expanses of green countryside without a single house in sight.
I arrive at HQ at 7:40 pm, and this time the weather is mild. Therefore, there is still time to sit in the garden, with some olives and a glass of red wine, writing travel notes. The garden is very inviting in the twilight, and full of joyously noisy bumblebees. There is an entire squadron of them, obviously attracted by certain plants in the garden. Never have I seen, or heard, so many bumblebees together. Now I don’t like hornets at all, but bumblebees I would watch forever. This is what I do again and again whilst writing my travel notes for the day, before going inside and cooking my dinner.
This was a wonderful afternoon in the end, with 150 very happy miles in total.
To think that the day had started with a thunderstorm warning!
26 sabato Mag 2018
Posted 2018 Cotswolds, Uncategorized
in
Saturday, 26 May 2018 is the first day of my Cotswolds holiday. The first day is, first of all, the day I try to forget as little as possible when preparing my luggage. This time, I also wake up later than usual, and the relative vicinity of the destination does not help me to make haste. It is, therefore, already 9:58 a.m. when the engine of my BMW R1200RT greets me with its usual “depressed chainsaw”-sound. Oh, for a modern, reliable Moto Guzzi tourer bike!
I normally enter the Cotswolds from either Burford or, more often, Woodstock. This time I also opt for Woodstock in order to be able to enter the Cotswolds from the Eastern side and then work my way towards HQ to the West. This means M25 and then M40, or A40 if I am willing to take it slower.
Everything goes well for some fifteen miles. However, this is a sunny Saturday morning of a bank holiday weekend, and at this hour there are a lot of people already around; something which, I admit, I had neglected to consider in my planning. Two exits before mine the queue warnings prompt me to abandon the motorway and let the Satnav do the rest. I am now at the Chorleywood exit – I know the place well as it still part of my usual one-day operations territory – and from there I am led, through local A roads, to that very A 40 that I might have wanted to ride anyway. The ride is, predictably, more interesting than on the motorway, though still nothing to write home about. I suffer delays near Oxford, both because of the intense traffic (not my fault) and a wrong roundabout exit (my fault). In the end, however, it is not so wild, and I enter Woodstock at around 12:30.
I knew (and liked) Woodstock already, and I do not want to stop now. I select HQ on the Satnav and am set to arrive there before 2:30 pm. I am not hungry at all, and decide to skip lunch altogether. Not far after Woodstock I meet the first, very pleasant surprise of this trip: Charlbury. Boy, is the place beautiful. I make a mental note of the name and will certainly be back, Arnie-style, in the next days.
HQ is awaiting me in a village called Bussage, near Stroud. The place was chosen because, besides having all my mandatory requirements (garden, something I foolishly keep insisting on even if I should know by now that the weather will not allow me to enjoy it; parking for the motorbike, which can seem superfluous in a rural setting but is more convenient than you’d think; wifi, particularly important as rural locations tend to have poor mobile phone reception; at least two bedrooms, because one bedroom “cottages” tend to be no cottages at all; and at least a small village, because I don’t like being in the middle of nothing) it is fairly central in the Cotswolds but with a slant towards the south-west part. This is appealing to me as the Centre and North parts of the region is the one I know best, with the south-west portion more difficult to enjoy when riding from faraway Essex. This allows me to have the southern top places (Tetbury, Chipping Sodbury, Castle Combe and, if I feel so inclined, Bath) within easy reach.
The roads chosen by the Satnav lead me through an unexpected landscape, with less villages than I expected (we are clearly outside of the main routes connecting all the “star villages”) and a way more dramatic landscape than you would traditionally associate with the peaceful Cotswolds. I am not the only one to notice this, because this part of the region is actually called the Cotswold Edge. I arrive to Stroud, which, like in the past, fails to impress, though the views on the surrounding countryside are quite impressive. From there it is a short hop to Bussage.
Cotswolds HQ is an impressive (but not at all cheap in the bank holiday week) traditional cottage, with a beautifully manicured little garden and a parking spot beyond an arched hedge, below which you walk to get to the bike. It is possibly the smallest of the four cottages I have rented up to now, but it is also, without a doubt, the most beautiful and picturesque. There is a nice sun now, whilst for most of the morning I had a variation of cloudy and timidly sunny.
I make myself comfortable in the cottage and here is where I discover that I have forgotten to take with me…. something comfortable to wear when I am at home. Therefore, I now need victuals, fuels and “lounge wear” of sort. Ergo, I steer the nearest of those huge Tescos who have everything, and I find it in nearby Gloucester. From there I ride back in a now decently warm afternoon. It is fairly early and I am not tired. Therefore, I head to one of my favourite, but little-visited places in the Cotswolds: Castle Combe. This is an absurdly picturesque little place, gone straight out of a children’s tale. However, on this Saturday afternoon it is full of, ahem, children tale enthusiasts, and the dreamy atmosphere I knew from past visits does not want to come out. I ride around a couple of times but decide not to stop, and head to Malmesbury after changing the satnav setting to “curvy roads”. I notice on this first day what I will keep seeing during the rest of this holiday: “single track with passing places” has a different meaning in the Cotswolds than in Cornwall. There, impossibly narrow paths; here, fairly large roads – let us call them 1.5 or 1.75 lanes – with ample passing places for those who really need them.
Malmesbury has a nice central square, but in my eyes the rest of the village along the main road has more character, and all the cars parked in the main square do not help the architectonic beauties of the place to properly emerge. From Malmesbury I ride back to HQ, where I cook a nice dinner. This is what I love most of having your own place instead of a hotel room: the ritual and joy of cooking your own meal; the familiar, pleasant smell of the garlic gently browning in the pan, and the damp coming up from the boiling water waiting to cook your pasta.
Before cooking, another fast round in the garden had confirmed the initial impression: best garden ever, though once again too cold to eat or write outside for today. Therefore, dinner is eaten in the kitchen, and the travel notes are completed in the adjacent, quite cosy, is fairly small, living room.
245 miles today, and a nice start of this travel indeed.
25 venerdì Mag 2018
Posted 2018 Cotswolds, Uncategorized
in
I have loved the Cotswolds for as long as I have lived in England. To me, they are a colder version of the Chianti Vale in Italy: peaceful rolling hills with a unique architectural homogeneity. Of course, they are different. Still, they have this in common: they are a world apart, a magic kingdom of enchantment and childish wonderment.
After the Peak District, the Lake District and Cornwall, the Cotswolds are my fourth Cottage-based English adventure. As always, it will be seven nights and eight days, with the option of adding one more night (and day) if mood and weather help.
I love the Cotswolds with the sort of tenderness people normally devote to pets. And I always loved them so much, that I wanted every one-day-trip there to be The Perfect Day. In part, because if you need four or more hours to get there and back, you want it to be worth it. In part, because you want that every day spent there lingers in your mind as a succession of dreamy, immaculate villages, honey-coloured houses, and those wonderful dry walls gleaming in the sun.
Up to now, it was always so.
But I wanted more. I wanted eight days in the Cotswold, but avoiding most of the 32 hours of commute. I wanted to wake up in the morning and know that I am in the middle of it. I wanted to make this wonderful region part not of a beautiful day, but of an unforgettable experience. Of course, this means saying farewell to the sunny-days-only experience, because no one in this Country can be dumb enough to book a cottage months in advance and think he will have eight days of uninterrupted, sunny glory. But at this point, I don’t care. I want eight days of all-immersing Cotswolds experience. And if it rains all the time, it will be an experience more.
The Cotswolds truly are (as we used to say in Italy about very beautiful girls) “a proof of the existence of God”. There is a special glory exuding from every honey-coloured house that really warms the heart. As an old Harley Davidson ads used to say: “If I have to explain, you would not understand”.
It is no surprise to me that, apparently, the Cotswolds are now fighting with London for the spot of first destination of US tourism. They truly have it all: the landscape and the villages, the peace and the harmony, the cleanliness and the distance from London that is not enough to make it not reachable, but not so near that it would be polluted by it.
Let us, then, experience this region for eight straight days: gray skies, rain, and all.
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