Thanks so much for the "sloe" info! I knew there was such a berry of course but I had no idea of what it looked like or where it grew. Sloe Gin Fizz and all that. I'm going to email that reply to my husband at work. Some people actually have to work full time! He'd better keep doing it too - pay for all these trips.

Part V: Leckhampton to Painswick
Friday, September 22, 2006

I must add here what I forgot to include in Part I, that I had done some training for this walk. Not that I'm in horrible shape but not fantastic shape either. Better now! Paul goes to the gym every week day and does a 30 minutes on the eliptical machine (about 3 miles, level 13, varied terrain), then runs a mile on the treadmill and then does some of the Nautilus machines for his arms etc. Also, he ran the Boston Marathon in 2000. He's in amazing shape. I on the other hand drag myself to the gym also 5 days a week and I do a walk/run of 2 miles on the treadmill, 30-40 situps on the incline and a few arm machines. Not amazing, but good enough. It was my feet that I was worried about and those blasted blisters that could crop up.

So, since we go to church twice on Sundays - for the morning and evening services - I thought a good workout and prep for the "walk" would be to walk to church for the evening service. [We have been members of Rehoboth Baptist Church, Rehoboth, Mass., for 31 years. rehobothbaptistchurch.org] Well, the "short" way to church, just the way we drive, is roughly 7.5 miles so I tried that first, leaving the house at 4 pm for the 6:30 service. (Paul didn't walk with me at this time because he had bursitis in his knee and it was swollen.) I was a bit late for the start of service but not a bad time I thought. The next week I took a different route and it was over 8 miles. I think I did that one 3 times. The last time Paul went with me and we took the longest route - over 9 miles - leaving at 3:30 and were late again. Might I add that it was in the high 80's and even the low 90's once (end of August) and very humid. True dedication that was, lol!! Still, I was serious and wanted to be ready for the real walk, so I did it.

I will add that since I wasn't really used to walking in the heat and humidity, at least for that length, I should have been drinking mucho water. I wasn't. About 2 weeks before the trip I got up as usual to go to work and felt sick. Got in the shower anyway and then really felt sick and thought I should get out. I stepped out of the shower and woke up some time later on the floor with my head under the pedestal sink. I have no idea how long I was out but it could only have been a few minutes as I still wasn't that late for work. I literally crawled on the floor to the phone (after having tried walking but my legs just did not work) and having no idea what was wrong with me, I called my doctor and the nurse asked me if I could possibly be dehydrated (because of our hot summer) and I said "No. Wait. Maybe." Dehydration had never occurred to me and it had never happened to me either. So I drank some water and felt somewhat better, called into work sick and went to bed and slept. Still shaky in the afternoon and after downing glass after glass of water all day, I learned my lesson and obviously haven't let THAT happen again.

My only thought after I got up from the bathroom floor was "The TRIP! Can't be sick for the walk!!" Do travellers ever think of anything else??

Back to Beaumont House...

We awoke in that glorious room at Beaumont House, again gathered all of our gear, tidied up, and for the first time in a long while, actually took the provided toiletries, or at least the Gilchrist & Soames shampoo and conditioner! It's the little things... We toddled down to breakfast. My, what a room. My, what a spread on the "cold" table: two berries and plain yogurt in dishes, a bowl of fresh fruit salad, another bowl with ice and pots of yogurt, a bowl with muesli and of course the usual Marmite and Vegemite. (Does anyone younger than 50 still eat these? Just wondering if it's a baby-boomer/wartime carry-over or not. Brits who are reading this please tell me.)

Each of us ordered two poached eggs on brown toast as we were done with the "full english" in terms of sausages and bacon, had our muesli and fruit and a great carafe of coffee and off we went after a few photos of the dining room. We were a few miles into the Leckhampton/Cheltenham area so we went off to find a bus stop in our general direction. We took the first bus that came along since it was going up the hill (why are we always going up???). The was our first encounter with an unfriendly person as you all must admit, the British are in general MORE than willing to be helpful and cheerful. We climbed onto the bus and paid our fares and asked the bus driver (there was no one behind us) if there were any busses that we could take after his route turned off (about 1.5 miles away). He replied "I don't know." Hmmm. I said you don't know of any other busses on this street? "No. I only know my bus and that's it." He might have added "So back off and get out of my face" because that was his tone and he was definitely not a happy camper. Oh well, we can't all be going on a walk in the Cotswolds on a Friday morning. So we left Mr. Cranky and went off to peruse our maps and see just how far we had to walk before we found a path.

Sure enough, the bus turned off just a mile or two up the hill, and we got off and started to hoof it again. If you look at my pics you'll see a photo of two milk bottles and an oj bottle with a saucepan over them. We assume this was to keep the animals away from the foil tops. This was shortly after we left the bus, on the road bound out of Cheltenham, just before Blackhedge Farm on the OS Map 179. The day was beautiful but a few clouds seemed to be gathering. Famous last words. We opted to continue on the road rather than to, once again, follow the Cotswold Way past Crickley Hill Country Park. We have some serious ground to cover yet again and we think our next B&B stop will either be Cranham or Painswick. Paul liked the sound (and the name) of Birdlip but it was just too near so we'll head for Painswick - maybe 14 or 15 miles away.

We walked up to a major intersection where the A436 and A417 meet and we see a sign for a large pub "The Air Balloon". This pub is so large that it's on the OS map by name with a blue "pint" sign next to it. I'm holding my breath hoping that I don't see a sign on it that says "rooms" because I would have screamed having been so near just the night before. However, there was no such sign that I could see and, anyway, we had the best of rooms and breakfasts at the Beaumont. It was morning traffic and it was literally screaming from every direction. Every time one traffic light would show red another one in the other direction was green and the traffic just would not stop. Everyone heading off to work and not fooling around and certainly not wanting to let two walkers with backpacks scurry across. We waited and watched, watched and waited. Finally there was nothing left to do but to go back a few hundred feet and just get across to a traffic island and then wait to go the rest of the way. Yeah, that worked. A bit petrifying but do-able as we madly ran across between the cars. Not for the faint of heart.

Finally, we're back in the countryside and the sound of the traffic grows fainter with each step we take. Here the CW path actually crosses over the Gloucestershire Way and takes us along the escarpment towards Birdlip. We have somewhat of a flat broad woodland path at this juncture and we pass a sign that says "Cuckoo Pen". We never did see any cuckoos in this area but we had heard them on the first day before we had ever even known they were around these parts. It was a strange sound and I can't even accurately remember at this point what the sound was like except that I said to Paul "Was that a cuckoo - that sound?" He replied that it might very well have been but since we had never heard one, we didn't know! Duh. So apparently it was. It didn't make the sound of a cuckoo clock but when you hear it, you know what it is.

On this glorious woodland path we saw two white horses coming towards us with riders replete with their hard hats, breeches and boots. One of the horses was absolutely huge and the young woman riding said "Yes he is rather large - about 18 hands I think." Love horses. They asked if the path ahead was suitable for the horses as it was a new way for them. We replied that there was a kissing gate (definitely not for horses) and a steep hill, so they reversed their direction and went off on their usual route. The daylight was quickly disappearing and it was starting to spit rain. We were now in Witcombe Wood and passing Birdlip and it's getting pretty dark in that wood...

We were faithfully following the CW markings at this point and the walking was glorious, even with the sprinkle of rain. Lots of trees and lots of stone walls - hey almost like home! The biggest difference was the english ivy growing up the slender trees. Was it me or does the ivy choose only certain types of trees to grow on? It seemed that way. Once again the CW path heads north (on our map) and we of course need to be going south. I understand that the makers of the Cotswold Way want the walker to take in as much gorgeous scenery as possible but again I'll state that scenery was not high on our list of importance - finding a place to sleep before dark was. As we follow the path we keep looking to our left for public paths that will take us into Cranham.

It's really beginning to rain now and we've put on our rain jackets and know that we'll have to stop today for lunch just to get out of the rain. Paul has his jacket just over his head and draped over his backpack. I've got mine completely on and am trusting that the label on my backpack is true: WATER RESISITANT. I learn later that there's a world of difference between "Water Resistant" and "Waterproof". Enough said about that!

I don't want to go so far as Cooper Hill. First of all it's the dreaded word: HILL. Secondly, it again heads north. Sheesh. We take one of the paths that go south, but uphill (of course). It ends at a pile of fallen trees after 15 minutes of hiking uphill. We go back to the CW path and hike some more and take another path to the left. We walk and walk and walk, this time apparently in Buckholt Wood - or we hope that's where we are according to the map, and we finally come out to a narrow road. Which way to go? We walk across and the rain is coming down so hard that there are rivers rushing down the side of the road (a hill of course). Hmmm. We peer into the woods and indeed there is a sign for a public path - exactly in the direction we need to go to Cranham. Instead of a path, there is a river. Paul says "I'm not going in there." It's the first time I've heard him balk at anything on this walk. Heck, he hardly ever balks at anything ever! For once I said "But it's the path. It's the way we've got to go because the road (which is uphill in our direction) is a torrent of water and will take us away from the Cranham direction. And the pub. And food. And heat."

Paul listens to me and heads into the wood and into the stream. We splash our way more or less uphill with the water coming down at us. We're soaked needless to say. Here and there we are able to walk on rocks and let our sneakers drain a bit. The mud is slippery. I don't want to slip and land on my butt in the water. Wet feet is one thing... Somewhere along this "path" Paul yelled back at me (rain is noisy) "Hey, do you want that chocolate we got from Beaumont House??" He says now: "you lit up like a Christmas tree". We were soaked. We were cold. We were hungry. And we've got CHOCOLATE! Hooray for chocolate, true sustenance for the weary body and soul. We stood there straddling the stream-cum-path and ate the chocolate that I appropriated just that morning from the little dish on the front desk at the Beaumont. Two pieces each. Devoured.

Thus happily sated, we continued on through the rain and emerged near the Black Horse Inn in Cranham. Glorious. We made a beeline towards that public house and stumbled in, wet and dripping with every eye in the place on us.

I'll bet most of you reading this know the feeling. You enter a pub that isn't in the usual tourist area. It's filled with locals and you are not one of them. It's awkward for a few moments. So, we unshouldered our packs, unzipped our jackets and found a table to sit at. There were 3 men near the bar (see photo 1328) who eyed us warily, not smiling. I think we more or less asked if we were to order from the landlord (we were), having already read the chalkboard menu. Paul ordered a pork chop for me and beef & Guiness sausages for him and a pink and a half of Old Speckled Hen for us. See the photo 1330. The porkchop fill half the plate with new potatoes and a bowl of assorted veggies. Paul liked his sausages and mustard mashed potatoes. We started to talk to the three chaps who had been doing bricklaying on a renovation near the pub and also came in to get out of the rain. They told us it was the remains of Hurricane Gordon. I had no idea that any part of any hurricane that we get on the eastern seaboard of the US makes it was to the UK. We talked and talked and laughed and laughed.

We talked about our walk. We talked about them. The guy sitting on the right in the photo (at the bar) asked where we were headed to and I said "Painswick". Oh, that's a nice town, you'll like that. Very pretty place. Where are you headed after that? I answered that after we spend the night in Painswick, we'll probably head for Dursley as that would be about 15 miles and that's roughly the number of miles we plan to do each day, finishing at Bath. "Oh! You don't want to go to Dursley!" he said. "It's a horrible town. Nothing there to speak of. Not pretty like Painswick and no place for you. You really don't want to go to Dursley. I live there!" We laughed and said it really couldn't be as bad as that, could it? He said it was. Oh well.

We once again made ready to leave, used the facilities, having changed our sneakers and socks when we arrived, shouldered the packs and said our goodbyes. Our bill was a well-spent £17.95. We were off in the (now) light rain and headed on the road to Painswick. After walking a half hour or so, a truck zoomed up behind us, slowed down, and all three guys waved and yelled good luck to us. Loved it. It's the people you remember the most.

Somewhere along this part of the walk from Cheltenham to Painswick, can't really remember just where, we met walkers coming in our direction. It turns out that the wife's cousin is married to Mark Richards, the writer of the booklet "The Cotswold Way". Hey, we're almost famous by association, lol! We also once again find ourselves in the middle of a golf course, the golfers shrouded happily in the mist. Made for a great photo (1334).

As we're walking, I'm reading The Cotswold Way, not so much for the text but for the B&B addresses I have scribbled in the margins. I want to head for "Orchard Hse, 4 Court Orchard, Painswick, £55, good review" so as we trek into the town, we first head to tourist information and get a map of the town, find Court Orchard and head for the B&B. No one there. Well, we hadn't called ahead to book so she didn't know we were coming - my fault. We head for another option that I had read about and that was also on the tourist information sheet: Hambutt's Mynd B&B. We knock on that door and a very elderly gentlemen answered and says, sorry, no vacancy. We thank him and go to my next scribble on the page: "St. Anne's B&B, £27-28pp, Walkers welcome, Gloucester St (no number)" I open the first door at the sign and peer in and spy a wooden grid on the wall with boxes for shoes - walkers' shoes - and every box is filled. Uh oh. I knock on the second door and a young mother answers and tells us "Sorry - no room!" but she offers to call ahead to another B&B: "Thorn".

We thank her profusely as we sit on a couch in her kitchen and she gets on the phone with Thorn and we listen. "Oh! You have? Are you sure? It isn't too much trouble?" etc etc. She gets off the phone and says that Mrs. Blatchley of Thorn House will take us in but isn't completely ready as she's just gotten in from the airport - she had been in Florence for a week. We again thanked her, said we knew the way (we were going to head there on our own if this B&B had been full). Off we walked to stay at the 4th B&B we had tried that day, hopefully to stay.

We found Thorn exactly where we thought it would be. An ancient house built (the newer part) somewhere in the vicinity of 1750, with the oldest part from 1250 when it was the town marketplace. There are still two roman columns in the dining room of the original twelve which formed the open air, covered market. Barbara Blatchley answered the door and showed us in; she was probably somewhere between 78 and 82. See photo 1348. It was a cosy sitting room with a fireplace and things in every corner. It was the sitting room that I'll bet just about every one of us has seen in the home of an elderly aunt or neighborhood friend - cluttered but not dirty, filled but not overflowing. Something to look at in every direction!

She asked if we'd like tea and I think for the first time ever, I said "Yes please!" quite readily. She had no milk as she was newly home from her travels and hadn't been shopping yet. I assured her that it was fine as it was - Paul always has his without milk but I never. It was all I could do to drink most of it! For some reason the acidity of the tea without the milk just takes all the shine off my teeth and leaves me with the feeling of just having eaten a lemon. Oh well. The thought was good anyway as we were still somewhat damp from the day's rain.

We then were shown upstairs to our room. Oh my. Beaumont House it certainly wasn't. There was a double bed but it was what I would call a "French" double - really a three-quarter bed and I took one of our OS maps and measured with it - 46 inches wide. A bit narrow to say the least - just measure your own bed. There was a single bed also in the room and she said I was welcome to use that as well, instead of us both in the double. Wish I had taken her advice: it wasn't the best night's sleep on the trip by a long shot. Oh well, next we showered in the microscopic bathroom which Paul could not walk into in an upright position. He had to crouch until he got to the sink and the he could stand upright. At 5' 1" I was fine but at 6' 1" he was way too tall. Ancient ancient house.

We nipped out to the pub that Mrs. Blatchley recommended and found ourselves at The Royal Oak Inn. Somewhat recommended for the atmosphere and local ale more than for the food. We quickly read the chalkboard menu which listed STP (Sticky Toffee Pudding) and I was good to go. We chose a table - ooooh, wrong choice because after an hour or so I was definitely uncomfortable on my 10 inch banquette seat. Oh well, it was a good pub anyway. I think we both had the steak and kidney pie which had an atrocious factory-made crust but the inside was decent. The rest I can't remember. The STP was also "pretend" and had no toffee and no dates. Oh well again. Still, the ambiance I think made up for the mediocre food and the landlord was affable. It doesn't take much!

Back to Thorn for my horrible's night sleep on that narrow bed. Paul slept like a log! I should have just gone over to the other one but hindsight is 20-20. Oh well again. The morning brought a so-so breakfast at the dining room table with Mrs. Blatchley. She did ask us what we'd like and we did answer that the usual english breakfast would be fine. I ended up giving Paul my mushrooms and my soggy tomato. We told her to please not bother with bacon or sausage. After thanking her, I said that we'd like to settle up our bill and she replied without missing a beat: "That'll be £28 each". So Paul peeled off £56 and we were off. It was not worth £56 but it was a roof over our heads for the night and just for the memory of the fake-fur bedspread, it was worth it...

Today we head for Dursley. A place "not fit for man nor beast" according to our friend from the pub.

I'm so glad you came back to finish this...

I live 15 minutes drive from the Air Balloon, but have never walked the Cotswold Way (yet!) so am finding this part particularly interesting.

Coopers Hill is incredibly steep, and is where on the last Monday in May cheeses (huge rounds of Double Gloucester) are rolled down the hill and are chased by many people.. just one website is...

http://www.abc.net.au/rollercoaster/...eserolling.htm

Painswick and Cranham are lovely - I'm sorry your B&B in Painswick was disappointing because it really is a nice little town.

Dursley - well, I look forward to reading whether you agreed with the Cranham chap! As far as I am concerned Dursley has the best physiotherapist in the county, and it's where my daughter's best friend lives but that's about all it has going for it!

oh, and Marmite... some of us Brits eat it all the time - every morning on toast in our family! Vegemite is a poor substitute for those down under.

More please! (Your trip report that is, not Marmite.)

I am truly enjoying your report Lizcakes. It's detailed and interesting and you have a pleasant writing style.

I myself spent 2 wonderful days touring the Cotswolds 5 years ago and vowed to return to do a walk; now reading yours and Paul's adventure may just be the turning point that gets me to do it ( so much world...so little time !)

I've also snuck a peek at your photos and they are wonderful. Aren't English brekkies great ? (fried slices and bloodpudding not withstanding) ! Also the country pubs and plough man's lunches, the fields, the flowers. Its so...."English" and you cannot find that anywhere else in the world. I am familiar with those black coloured berries along the road side (that Paul was munching on in the photos); as children we loved them too (and still do, as I recall feasting on them near Tintern Abbey on a recent trip to Wales)and we called them plain old raspberries.

Keep up the excellent report. I'm printing it to read on the train home.
Looking forward to more.

Cheers,

M.

And sorry to disillusion you, but you would not have heard a cuckoo in September. They are a summer visitor to the British Isles and have left for warmer climes by then.

As the Old English rhyme goes...

Cuckoo, cuckoo, what do you do?
In April I open my bill;
In May I sing all day;
In June I change my tune;
In July away I fly;
In August go I must.

Mathieu: Yes, there's no place like England! And England in September was truly spectacular. Paul wasn't eating the raspberries as they were just too seedy for more than a taste. He was eating those tiny plums (as that's what I truly think they were) that were growing on a tree by the side of the road - not bushes. You must do the walk as I'm dying to read someone ELSE'S words instead of my own - getting tired of them already. : o )

Julia: I can't believe you live in the area of The Air Balloon. Wait til I tell my husband (who's outside on our driveway under the car fixing it with a not-happy face on). To think we were so close to you and yet so far! Friends are everywhere, you just have to look for them.

Thanks for the info about the Marmite/Vegemite. Whoa - you eat it every morning - Marmite that is. Better you than me, kid.

And it wasn't a cuckoo that I heard! Well, that just goes to show you I don't have any idea of what I'm hearing. Still, I wonder what the heck it was!?

It was likely it was a wood pigeon - they make a sound like coo coo. From a British Birds website I paste the following << a Wood Pigeon's song has five notes and sounds like "ru-hoo ru ru-hoo". This is sometimes remembered as: "Take toooo coooos, Taffy".>>

If you are in the country in May you will hear a very distinctive CUCKoo. As children we would listen out for the first cuckoo in April - how early it was heard was supposed to be a guide as to how good the summer would be! I read somewhere that cuckoos are in decline and are an amber list species, likely to be on the red list before too long. Sad, but it's true I don't hear them nearly so often these days.

I too am amazed that you passed so close - indeed on the stretch between Randwick and Kings Stanley, when you crossed the railway line you would have walked down past the playing fields of my children's school, and then past the school itself!

The north Cotswolds gets many visitors, but fewer reach the south Cotswolds. The hills are steeper on the edge of the Cotswold escarpment, but the views are stunning as you must have found on this leg of your trip - looking across the Severn valley to the ancient Forest of Dean and the Welsh mountains and north to the Malverns. The stone is greyer here too but I don't think it makes the villages any less attractive. I hope you got to see Uley and North Nibley along your path.

Looking forward to reading more about your walk through my home territory!

You can hear the sound of the woodpigeon here

http://www.garden-birds.co.uk/birds/woodpigeon.htm

and also the cuckoo here

http://www.garden-birds.co.uk/birds/cuckoo.htm

or a collared dove

http://www.garden-birds.co.uk/birds/collareddove.htm

This one goes coo-cu-coo so it may well have been this you heard.

I'd imagine tiny plums off trees in September would have been damsons.

There were still lots of blackberries in late September round here, but there's always been a tradition you shouldn't eat them after Michaelmas. (St Michael threw the devil into a blackberry bush when he chucked him out of heaven, so the devil cursed post-Michaelmas blackberries and they're supposed to be bad for you)

Whereby hangs a quandry. Michaelmas on the old calendar was Sept 29. When they introduced the Papist calendar, Sept 29 turned into Oct 10. Michaelmas remains Sept 29, but no-one told the weather they'd changed the calendar.

So which date do berries go bad these days?

Julia, I listened to the bird sounds - all of them and it was nothing like those. We're very familiar with doves around us here in Massachusetts - so definitly not those, nor woodpigeon nor cuckoo. It was a sharp rap "tock" sort of sound. Just one call at a time. TOCK! and a few moments later TOCK! And since I couldn't think of what else it could be and since I saw on the map "Cuckoo Pen" I thought that's what it was, lol! Now, got anything that makes a Tock! sound?

King's Stanley is where we SHOULD have stopped for a cream tea (if there was such a place) but ended up walking around it. I'll have to look at the map. It seems to me that we got a bit lost somewhere around there. We ended up being on a high escarpment in the trees looking down to various habitations but I'll have to ask my husband as his memory is far better than mine...

Flanner: Yes, Damson plums is what they must have been. As a matter of fact I think that's what Paul said but I had forgotten until you said the word. Tiny and oval. I guess the blackberries were still "good" if very seedy of course. To us, raspberries are definitely bright red and these were, well, almost black. I dunno, as children we always called them blackberries. And it certainly wasn't Michaelmas yet as our walk was Sept. 18-28th - so we didn't get quite as far as Michaelmas.

Should have stuck this in my post of a few moments ago but have you see the exchange rate??? I'm appalled! Right now on OANDA.com the pound costs us 1.9323 and the Euro is at 1.30. AAaacccckkkkk! It's going to cost us a FORTUNE for B&Bs and pub dinners in September on our Coast to Coast (St. Bees to Robin Hood's Bay). Yikes. And I wanted to squeeze in a "little" trip to WDW for Jan. 08.

I've already got Barbados booked for May (and paid a hefty 50% deposit on our villa), the C2C for Sept., possibly WDW for Jan. 08 and then a C2C in Italy for October 08. WAY too many trips - I'll have to go from part-time to full-time at my job.

Never. LOLOLOLOL!!!

We do wait for the exchange rate to get better, but I know from experience that it can definitely get worse...

Raspberries are red here too. Very rarely found wild.

Mathieu is confused. Blackberries are definitely what you found on the bushes. Close to a weed everwhere throughout the late summer most years: you can practically live off them for the whole of a walk.

In fact the Flannerpooch, unable to find any ponds during this very dry summer, did actually use blackberries as a source of liquid on one march, they were so profuse.

LOLOLOL. "Flannerpooch" !!!!

Love it love it love it.

We're cat people (easier to leave whilst travelling) and have two. I'll have to call them Lizcats, lolololol!!!

Your bird might have been a pheasant
Listen to http://www.rspb.org.uk/birds/guide/p...nt/gallery.asp

I've got a case of 'lazy brain' - can figure out the C2C (coast to coast in the UK) but what is WDW?

Marmite is a firm favourite in this house with husband and two kids- on toasted bread for breakfast. Can't stand the stuff myself. I think it's an acquired taste.
The bird could have been a woodpecker but more likely to have been a pheasant. Just got back from a very wet, muddy walk around Blockley village (near Moreton in Marsh) and disturbed a pheasant. Don't know which of us was more shocked!

oKAY!! Pheasant!! There were SKILLIONS of pheasants - we saw more pheasants than people. I'll check out that "call" online.

I checked out a pheasant call online and it just wasn't quite right. Too scritchy. Hey, it was probably someone hitting something... TOCK! But we really weren't near a farm by a longshot. We were in the boonies.

If you want to have fun, go to http://www.rspb.org.uk/birds/

It has bird sounds and video clips of some of them.
Perhaps the recording didn't sound quite right to you, but I'd still go for pheasants.
The shooting season starts on October 1st and there are lots of pheasants around in September.
If you walk in or near woods, you can hear that tock tock noise.

your query about the saucepan upside down covering milk bottles.... this is to deter small blue and yellow birds called 'bluetits' who peck at the foil bottle tops and 'drink' the cream.

As I read your reply about the bluetits and the cream I was thinking "but we've covered this whole subject 5 or 6 posts ago. Didn't Bellini read it??" But no! It was covered on the AOL England/Rest of England board. Getting my boards confused. This is what the post says:

<<You were right - mostly birds - but here's a thing.

Birds in some areas have been found to be able to differentiate between skimmed milk and full milk. I can't tell you which University tested this, but there was a practical study that showed that the birds (usually blue tits) weren't interested in skimmed milk.
Some local authorities no longer allow foil tops for doorstep delivery, because it's been shown that contamination from birds' beaks is minimal, bthe hole they make admits bacteria from other sources.
(I learned all this in Advanced Food Health and Safety.)>>

Pronunciation help please! This isn't an addition to my usual thread but I'm reading a Dick Francis mystery and can't pronounce: "Laphroaig" The novel is "Proof" in case anyone's read it. I'm ADDICTED to Dick Francis.

Lefroig

Actually the first "e" is pronounced with that mumbling noise we use that phoneticians designate with an upside-down "e". Sort of "uh" without energy

I just went to the England board and someone sent me a the Laphroaig website with this on it:

<<There are 3 main ingredients for making Laphroaig - Barley, Water, and Yeast, but the secret ingredient is the People."

Laphroaig (La-froyg) is the story of a community. An uncompromising, tough and determined group of people who work to ensure that this defining whisky has always remained true to its origins>>

Is Part 2 on some other thread, Lizcakes? I am really enjoying reading about your adventures, and the photos aren't too shabby, either!
More, please.

No, it's not posted anywhere else, I just am dragging my feet writing it. Christmas busy-ness. Actually, I'm going to change the way I take notes on each trip by buying a digital recorder - probably one that records 8 hours - and that way I'll have my own little voice telling me all the neat bits that I want to remember and keep for my trip reports.

It sure beats writing stuff down en route. That was the pits this year.

Please give us more of your trip report. Hopefully, after the holidays you will have the time to continue your narative.

Part VI: Painswick to Dursley
Saturday, September 23, 2006

I draaaaaaggg myself back to this computer to write write write again. Boy, have I been putting this off and it only gets worse as the weeks wear on. Nevertheless we begin again. We start back in Painswick and say goodbye to Thorn Cottage and Mrs. Blatchley and the teeny tiny skinny bed with the faux fur coverlet and the bathroom where you must duck to enter. We didn't hold out much hope for a place called "Dursley B&B". That's it. Just plain old Dursley B&B. I expected an old woman, grumpy, no other lodgers and a breakfast begrudgingly given. We'll see!

Still, it was a lovely day to walk out of Painswick and we went out by way of the church with its 99 yews. I had briefly read about said yews and ended up liking that part of Painswick the best. I wanted to walk down every short avenue, under the clipped arches but the path was waiting and the morning was wearing on. We took seven or eight photos and found the proper street to head out to the countryside. We followed a woman in her wellies out walking the dog on that Saturday morning and followed her out to the fields and rolling hills - an astoudingly beautiful, sunny day. We followed the signage and walked for an hour or two through gorgeous farms with huge trees - big enough to sit in! (see photo), past small holdings with llamas just shorn looking at us with little interest, and onto our first hills of the day.

I usually walked with the OS map in hand as is my wont on all trips. Paul will tell me periodically to "look up!" and get my face out of the map so that I can actually see what's passing (when we're in a car). But now I really had to look out to see where I was walking. Probably a good thing for me as the scenery was breathtaking even though the map kept calling my name. Anyway, if you have an OS 179 to hand, you see there is Pitchcomb Wood just southwest of Painswick. Somewhere in here we lost the trail - just around Randwick, don't ask me how. We ended up in a built-up area I think just north of Ebley and went around and around trying to find our way out. After asking directions from several people we found our way back to the Cotswold Way and started following it once again. I wanted to get to Kings Stanley because I had dreams of another Cream Tea complete with scones, jam and that glorious thick cream and I thought that Kings Stanley would be just the place to find a tea shop. Ahhhh. After a stop to mend the poor toes on my left foot, we continued on and I discovered just what those little black lines on the map were, near the straighter black solid lines (railroad tracks). Fences! Fences to keep one from falling down the hill and onto the tracks. We skirted one such fence and started down the hill and crossed the tracks.

We crossed a little metal bridge (at least Paul says it was metal - I don't remember) and for some reason decided to go AROUND Kings Stanley probably because that's the way the Cotswold Way went and possibly also because we had had enough of getting lost on little city streets that ended up in dead ends. Also, I placated myself with the thought that tonight we would dine out at an Indian restaurant in Dursley as there was sure to be one. ESPECIALLY since our friend in the pub said there was nothing good in Dursley - there was sure to be at least some Indian takeout. Yea! Onward. We had some climbing to do in Pen Wood but then the path ran more or less alongside the top of the hill in the woods. We had glimpses down through the trees of people enjoying their Saturday - as we were enjoying ours! I had no laundry or vacuuming to do, no cooking or dishes, no running to Walmart or BJ's - nothing but walking in the woods. It was great.

I forgot to mention that Barbara Blatchley thought we should phone ahead to make a reservation at our next B&B since we only JUST found room in Painswick. It seems that September can be a bit busy but then that was Painswick and we were headed for Dursley - not the same type of town apparently. She graciously hooked us up - called herself - with the only B&B that was listed, the said "Dursley B&B" so at least we had a room waiting for us when we got there. We continued on the path and kept looking for a certain sign for "Hetty Pegler's Tump" whatever that was (an ancient long barrow apparently) but we never did find it. I was too busy looking at the map and all the close lines indicating steep hills that we had to traverse before we could have our "Indian" that evening. I also forgot to mention that we had tried to book into Hodgecombe Farm that was in this area around Hetty Pegler's Tump but that was booked solid. Oh well. Into dastardly Dursley we went.

Down down down the hill and we came into a quite normal city street. Stores! People out and about. Teens hanging around as they do everywhere. Hmmm! Could almost be home. I could live here. We went through the town and I read aloud what I had written on the margin of my map: "Dursley B&B, 7 Prospect Lane, £25/pp". Paul ducked into a pub and asked and we were directed just a short way down the street but we were having a hard time finding Prospect Lane. There were terraced houses with an auto body shop (do the Brits call them "panel beaters" as the Kiwis do?) at the end of the row, with a small lane between the auto shop and the houses. Prospect Lane. Oh boy, did it ever look like there were NO good prospects down that lane. A little grundgy looking or what. We took the right and a right again and looked at the rear of all these terraced dwellings. Number 15, number 13, number 11, number.........., here we are, Number 7.

A small greenhouse was attached by the back door and we could see someone moving inside. This has got to be the place but I don't remember seeing a B&B sign anywhere. We knocked on the door and a woman answered and I said "We're Paul and Liz - we called about a room for the night?" Oh yes, the woman said, and I'm Cecilia. Hello Cecilia. I noticed she walked somewhat with a limp as we followed her through the kitchen and into the hall. We chatted about the day and talked about where we walked that day. She said there was only one other guest - a gentleman - and he was leaving early in the morning. We passed by a bathroom and I saw the shower and mentioned how that would feel wonderful as walking could be a slightly dirty business at times. She said, "Yes, you could take a shower down here though most guests use the bathroom upstairs. Either is fine." Hmmm. We followed her up this very small staircase. I'm only 5'1" and with my backpack I could just fit. Paul was behind me and I was wondering what kinds of gymnastics he was doing just to get up the stairs.

She said, "This is your room."

To say it almost took my breath away would be an overstatement but really, I was very very surprised. There was wide plank flooring, a large, low bed, original art on the walls, a sunny window and I can't remember what else but it was LOVELY. Absolutely lovely. Directly across the narrow hallway was the bathroom with a HUGE clawfoot tub (to go with the huge towels already placed on our bed), and about a mile down, at the other end of the bathroom was the sink and toilet. I can't say exactly why this particular B&B made me so happy, but it did. Paul said "I think I'll opt out of the shower and have a bath instead." I replied that I was going to do exactly the same and true to form, he said "You first!" The water was so hot that you could have made a cup of tea with it. There was a basket with all sorts of "hotel size" shampoos and soaps and I chose a couple. Ahhhhhhhh. It was heaven. After Paul's bath we headed out to the Indian restaurant chattering all the way about our "find" in Dursley.

The Indian food wasn't quite as good as we had hoped or were used to getting but the Nan was hot, the selection was good and we ordered the whole darn menu. We had so much food (see photo) I didn't think we'd eat half of it. Instead we ate all of it. We also polished off a bottle of wine without even thinking about it - something we never do at home even though we have wine just about every night of our lives. I generally only drink a half glass and we always use the same bottle for two nights. Whoosh - that bottle of wine was history at Dursley Tandoori.

Back to Cecilia's we went, sated and happy. That bed was sooooo comfortable after the squashed night at Thorn but besides that, I think it was one of the most comfortable beds of the trip though there really wasn't a horrid one (apart from Painswick) in the bunch. But the ROOM was just so delightful - and I didn't take a single picture and I wish I had. After a marvelous night's sleep we packed up yet again and headed down to breakfast. The dining/living room was long and lovely and I DID take some photos of that, so please scroll back up this report to get to the link, then look at the photos. There were cloth napkins, wooden butter knives for each of us, and freesia in a vase. I love freesia - they're right up there with roses in my book. The breakfast was absolutely wonderful and we were all by ourselves for most of it with classical music playing in the background. Cecilia eventually came in and, while standing, joined us and we asked her about the B&B and her life in general.

She has three children (we saw them in a photo on the wall, on the beach) and lived in Dubai for most of her married life but she is Swedish and was raised there and is now divorced. (I had said to Paul when we arrived that I detected an accent and thought Danish or perhaps Swedish as the furnishings had that flavor somewhat.) Yes, much of the furnishings in the room are from Sweden, no she did not attend art school as I asked her after looking at the figure drawing on the wall and mentioned the other original artwork in the house. We discussed the world, why and how people travel, what people expect in travelling, what she would like to do, where we were going next etc etc. As she stood she held her right arm and hand up with her left hand. She explained that she was in a very serious auto accident in Dubai. It was apparent that her left side was partly out of commission and I could not imagine how she did all the sheets and towels and other cleaning required for the house, but she did. And with elegance.

We loved Cecilia! Really, if you're ever in the neighborhood...

We left that Sunday morning and headed for Tormarton, our last stop before Bath.

Glad you came back lizcakes!

Thought of you this morning driving through Kings Stanley just where it crosses the Cotswold Way,and the metal bridge where you crossed the railway line is the one right by my kids school playing fields!

I'm glad that Dursley wasn't too dreary for you, and that your B&B was good - I shall make note of it, and my daughter who often stays with a firend in Dursley likes the Tandoori! Small world, eh?

Do please try to finish this, I have enjoyed it, and so have many others as all the responses you have had shows.

Looking forward to the next installment!

I really will try to finish this - it's hanging over my head each week! Sunday afternoon sounds like it might be the day for the next installment.

Part VII: Dursley to Tormarton
Sunday, September 24, 2006


Well, for those of you on the AOL, Rest of England Board, you know that the cat’s out of the bag and we are NOT going to do Wainwright’s Coast to Coast Walk through the Lake District and Yorkshire even though I’ve already bought the books, maps and perused just about every B&B in the area. Reason? The pound is just WAY too expensive for us at this point. Sure, it may come down before October but the problem is, when one wants to use one’s frequent flyer miles, thereby getting “free” airfare, one must book WAY in advance. As it was I was lucky to get what I did – BOSTON – PARIS for September 29, returning October 19.

I’ve already bought (but have not yet received) 17 maps covering the GR routes from Fontainbleau to Dijon so we’ll be dining and sleeping in Burgundy for 3 weeks and hiking somewhere around 170-200 miles. Just look at it this way, the average tariff for a B&B on our Cotswold’s hike was £60/night which translates to $117/night. An average night at a Chambre D’Hote is €50 (some were €40 and others as high as €60) which roughly equals $65. Even if we had to pay €70/night, even that would only be $90. The food is also cheaper and need I say, MUCH BETTER, LOLOLOL!! We did have one good dinner at an Italian restaurant in Bath, two so-so Indian dinners (we love Indian food), and a couple of horrendous pub meals.

I rest my case.

Still, we do plan on doing Wainwright’s when the pound falls to a good rate for our dollar, just not this year. After all, I’d never want to waste $100 worth of OS maps and we do love the UK and its people – definitely the people! In October I’ll get a chance to use my French which thankfully increases a bit each time we travel to France. I’ll try not to gain weight this time. Gaining a pound after I hiked 105 miles was a bit of a kick in the pants. I definitely think it was all of those “Full English Breakfasts”!

Back to Dursley we go…

We left Cecilia’s on Sunday morning and all my plans of actually attending a local church were all for naught. We continued to read our bibles each evening before or after dinner and have out own devotions. It wasn’t rubbing shoulders with other Christians but it just had to do. I do miss church when we’re on vacation! We have a great church in Rehoboth. So we hiked out of town and what else? Up a long long hill, through the woods and on and on. Unfortunately, the particulars of the walk are lost due to the number of months (four) since the trip. However, looking at the photos once again…

Oh yes! This day’s walk had LOTS of “firsts” as I look at the pictures and it’s truly all flooding back to me. It was a GREAT day. We walked through a cornfield and I can’t remember if this is the first one or the second but imagine here in the U.S. the state informing a farmer that he must leave a path for walkers. Ha! It’s pretty much all private land here and woe to the person who trespasses. I loved this about the UK and loved walking right through the cornfield with the green towering over me (I’m only 5’1”). Great feeling. We pass by a cottage with the niftiest sun dial on it – can’t remember what town but the picture # is 139, Paul samples the wild plums by the side of the road, I take a picture of “Bunter’s Sandwich Company” just because I like the name, we pass by “Rose Hill School” and take a couple of pics just because it seemed so very charming and finally we get “mobbed” by a flock of sheep who seemed to think WE were going to give them something . I think there must be a good sermon in there somewhere.

We continue to wend our way towards Tormarton, passing by Old Sodbury. Funny how you picture a place in your mind: I had thought that Old Sodbury would just be so very ancient and cozy, almost bordering on that wretched word – “quaint”. Yuck. Not that I thought Old Sodbury would be yucky, it’s “quaint” that I hate. Anyway, it wasn’t. I remember traffic and trucks and general business of a modern town. Maybe it’s different, but that’s rather what I saw. Tormarton on the other hand, I had no idea what to expect – and it was lovely. Very residential and farmy and small village-ish. Which is exactly what it was.

We found our way to “Chestnut Farm” which we had booked for that Sunday night from Cecilia’s in Dursley. A good thing we called because it was indeed fully booked and once again, what a pleasant surprise! It’s run by a Roberto (Italian) and his wife Heather and one of the reasons this b&b sounded special was that wonderful evening meals were cooked by the hosts. Sounded great to me. However, after we arrived and were shown to our room, Roberto said that the pub in the village opened at 7 on Sunday nights and we could have our dinner there. We learned the next morning at breakfast that Roberto cooks every night EXCEPT Sunday! More’s the pity as the food at the pub was atrocious. Nasty. But the pub owner was jolly and of course the ale was excellent. : o ) So all was not lost. But it was hot and the surroundings were absolutely pleasant.

More about Chestnut farm (see the pics). The bed was firm, crisp and comfortable, the bathroom more than adequate and the view of the hens from our window was just what I would have wanted staying on a farm. Roberto explained to us at breakfast (GREAT breakfast by the way!), that when the Mad Cow scare was going full tilt in the area, they pretty much lost their shirts, so to speak, and packed it in as far as raising cattle and decided to put all of their energy into a really good B&B. And so it is. I highly recommend Chestnut Farm B&B in Tormarton AND for the ridiculously low tariff of £50 per night for two. A bargain if I ever heard one.

We set out Monday morning for Bath.


Part VIII: Tormarton to Bath
Monday, September 25th, 2006

Once again, we have beautiful weather if a bit foggy. Where oh where is “the land of rain”?? We only had that one partial day of rain all because of Hurricane Gordon and now the days are sunny and warm in the afternoons once the fog lifts. We actually got back to Massachusetts with tans. Well, as much of a tan as this Celtic woman ever gets anyway. Paul did much better than I in that respect.

In order to get out of Tormarton and get back on the Cotswold Way, we needed to cross the M4 – not for the faint of heart. Still, there was a way for walkers to do this, with the cars and trucks zooming by and we (obviously) got safely to the other side. If you look at the photos you will see the first sight we came upon, along the A46: The Mo-B-que! Sausage rolls at your service. Had to take a pic. We crossed this road and looked for the CW signs and came upon two gents who were installing the Cotswold Way signposts. We stopped to chat (and took a pic) with these men who were wonderful and told us exactly how to get onto the path.

We walked and walked and found ourselves on a small road. It’s kind of a foggy morning and we spy a gorgeous country estate which I think is Dyrham Park, or at least that’s what I think it is. I take a photo of the front wrought iron gate with drops of dew (and fog!) caught in the cobwebs. Glorious. We wished we could have stopped and toured the park but we know that “the walk IS the destination” and we continue on. By and by we find ourselves on a small, sunny country road with the hedgerows towering above us on either side. This a “normal” used road for the area and a couple of times we had to “hit the hedges” when a car approached. There is literally NO place to get out of the way of traffic other than to flatten ourselves into the hedgerows and pray that we’ve gotten our feet in sufficiently. With a large pack on one’s back, this is harder than it appears.

Along this road we hear what sounds like a huge truck zooming up this road towards us and we can’t imagine from which direction. We hit the hedges, throwing ourselves into them backwards with our backpacks pressing the woody perennials to smithereens, only to find that the noise wasn’t a truck at all but a low-flying military helicopter making enough noise to wake the dead. Thoroughly glad that we’re alive to tell the tale as the copter buzzes away from us, I whip out the camera and catch a couple of photos before the thing flies away. We find out later from someone that there is indeed a military air base in the area.

If you look at the next photos you’ll see that the scenery is still rolling green hills and wicket gates – what else? - and we’re nearly at the end of our walk! Bath is in the distance and we’re getting nearer by the minute. I’m on my final OS map - # 155/Bath & Bristol and I can’t believe how quickly this whole walk of 100 miles has gone! We have booked a room at “Elgin Villa” and now just have to enter the city and find it. I decide that we really should follow the marked CW path once we’re on the city streets rather than to aimlessly wander around and ask for directions. Bad idea! The official path took us on a wild goose chase up and down streets and far from the direction that we really wanted. Oh well, after a few wrong turns and some MORE horrible hills, we find our way to the front path of Elgin Villa and ring the bell.

The woman who opened the door was tall with dark hair and attractive – and with a different accent than we had been hearing. I listened to her voice as she led us up the stairs and then asked “Is that a Kiwi accent that I hear?” Indeed the owner of this B&B is from New Zealand. My mother was born and raised in Auckland and I lived there (visiting relatives and working) in 1974/75 before I came home to marry Paul. It was there that I was born again, a new person in Jesus Christ, so it was good to hear that accent again – the best of memories.

We stayed at Elgin Villa for two nights and thus ended our “walk”. On to the next one! The cost at Elgin was pretty steep by our standards - £75/night but the room was glorious, all yellow and blue with white trim, truly Provencal – loved it. I took a million pics as you can see from Yahoo. We went through our backpacks and made a pile to take to the laundromat. Anna (the owner) gave us directions and off we went. Half way there we passed by the Royal Crescent and out came the camera for the umpteenth time that day. Into the laundry, clothes into the machine and we set off to find a small store to buy some toothpaste which we had run out of. When we got back to the laundramat we spoke to the owner and asked him for a restaurant recommendationm specifically, a place where one would go for a thoroughly “decent” meal.

He said that he once took his girlfriend to “Martini’s” which was over on George Street and he liked it very much. So over we toddled to check out the menu and make a reservation for later that evening.

We did end up dining at Martini’s (see photos) and it was very good. When we returned home and saw that the price was $160+ for a “good” (not “great”) meal we decided that perhaps we should stick to the Euro countries as opposed to paying through the nose with Pounds Sterling. Hence the change in plans from doing the C2C in Yorkshire to hiking Burgundy.

Cutting this short………………..

We stayed in Bath for two days and saw the things on my list (Roman Baths, Jane Austen venues) and headed on the train for Bourton-on-the-Water (to get to Guiting Power) via Moreton-in-Marsh. We had to take a bus from Moreton to Bourton and we were told that we could then order a taxi to take us to Guiting Power. No one told us that there was exactly one taxi for this entire section of England and good luck if you could find it. We had two people call for us and I borrowed a cell phone from a kindly man and called myself – no luck. So we set out walking.

It was around 3 in the afternoon and as we headed out of Bourton and I stuck out my thumb once again. Nothing nothing nothing and it looked to be a good 7 or 8 miles to Guiting Power. We walked for about a half hour, consulted the map, took a corner and started up a hill (always a hill), with my thumb out and… whoa! Is that someone stopped ahead of us? Pulling over FOR US?? It was. A business man who felt sorry for us oldies! It took us directly to the Guiting Guest House and we thanked him profusely.

The B&B owner was not there even though we were literally within minutes of the time that we had given her (amazingly), however the door was unlocked and I went in a shouted a soft “Hello? Hello?” No one, not even one tourist. Hmmm. I went outside and told Paul so we walked around the immediate area for a bit, checking out the pub next door for a possible meal in the evening. By and by a car came into the B&Bs driveway and it was “Madame” with her son. When I told her who we were and said that we had gotten there a half hour ago etc (nicely), she bristled and said “Well, I had to get my son at school!” I answered that that was not a problem etc. She was not nice.

She curtly showed us to our room which was nice but NOT worth £77 per night! And I HATE teddy bears on the bed. Gag. They’re OK for a six year old but PLEASE. Madame ended up being a pill at breakfast so we paid up and got out of there in the morning. We had dined at a local restaurant the night before (can’t remember the name now that it’s March) instead of the pub next door. It was completely filled with horseracing prints and indeed it seemed a whole stable’s crew was dining next to us after a large win.

As it happened, we couldn’t get a taxi to Bourton-on-the-Water in the morning (surprise surprise) so Madame had her husband drive us. He was wonderful – totally different from the Lady of the House. We had to stop half way to Bourton to let a whole stable of horses and riders pass by us and it turns out that our B&B owner knew the trainer – it was Nigel Twiston-Davies. http://www.nigeltwistondavies.co.uk/ Nigel stopped to talk to our driver (they are friends) for a while so that was our touch with a ‘rock star’ of the horse world.

The rest of the trip was uneventful thank goodness except when we got to Moreton, I thought I had left our digital camera at the dreaded Guiting Guest House. Groan. I looked for it and couldn’t find it in the backpack but then Paul looked….. the man can find anything! Back, on the train, to Paddington, change trains for Heathrow and home home home we go.

This year it’s Barbados in May for a week (free flights with our FF miles) and then we’re switching to France (also free flights) instead of Wainwright’s as I’ve already written. If we do a “long” trail by staying on the paths it’ll be around 200 miles and if we cut across hill and dale it’ll be somewhere around 160 miles but anyway, we’ll hike from Fontainebleau to Dijon. Right now, the difference between the Euro and the Pound is huge but we will get back to the UK, just don’t know when.

Thanks for listening!