The Cotswolds

Blog 2: The Cotswolds, England, UK  2022 

Ah, Merry Ole England. My home away from home, as many of you know. From the moment I exit the airport, my senses pull me in. It's a familiarity that makes me wonder if perhaps I have always belonged there. Maybe it's the fact that it reminds me of Rhode Island, the day I returned from a seven-month stint in Alaska. Alaska where the air is dry and bitterly cold in the winter months. To enter a place like Rhode Island or the United Kingdom, your face is smacked with a moisture. A strong smell of briny air and a hint of dampened earth familiar to those in temperate climates. Breath it in!

After a long queue we finally get our rental car. A few missed turns and we are off into the wild farmlands that stretch out like the ocean. After all Merry Olde England stems from "Merrie" or the idyllic view of pastoral life stemming from an English Utopian society. I see the appeal; though I doubt when that phrase surfaced, it was far from true. 

However, nowadays we can spot it driving down endless roads throughout this charming country. We see it in green pastures for miles, dotted with fluffy sheep, and lined with stone walls from rocks wrenched from the earth a thousand years ago. Aren't we fortunate to see it, in all its majesty, without the tariffs bringing the serfs down. Feudal system, anyone? Don't you worry, the VAT will get you one way or another, Britain hasn't changed that much, has it?

While driving down the highway, our stomachs began to rumble. Afterall, traveling on a plane for 8 hours and being fed nonstop, surely gets your digestion going. Your body says, YES KEEP EATING. And so, on our way to our hotel at De Vere Tortworth Court, we stopped for a superb luncheon at Stag and Hounds. If you are near to Bracknell or are visiting England, you must stop here. The salt and pepper squid (calamari, for you Rhode Islanders,) and the Beer Battered Cornish Hake was delicious!

An hour or two later we arrived at our hotel, and I must say I was completely blown away by its sheer size. The website did it no justice. To really experience a place you must touch it, smell it. Use all those senses! A Downton episode came to mind, as though we were staying the next two nights at Highclere Castle.

 De Vere is a company of several grand hotels, formerly private estates and you can stay there for far less than you think. This particular estate goes back to the 14th century during the reign of Edward I, belonging to Sir Nicholas Kingston. From there it was in the care of 3 different families for the next 550 years!  Yes, 3! Inheritance played a great factor in property ownership back in the day. In this century we are more likely to sell our homes every seven years!

Aside from its cathedral-like appearance with large stone archway guarded by statues of dutiful hounds, the large wooden doors are surrounded by intense panes of glass allowing the entryway to the grand hall, all that much more inviting. We arrived on a rainy day, no surprise, but we were so in love with the coffered ceilings standing over hundred feet above us with stairs running the along the edges of the tower in a Hogwart-esque appearance. It seemed less likely that we were in reality by the minute. They offered a heated pool and spa area. We did try them out but found that heated in England does not mean the same as it does in the states. The hot tub was not quite hot. 

We ended our evening with a delightful dinner of roast duck and beef wellington at the restaurant, formerly the library of the mansion. The room was host to enormous portraits of former kings, previous owners and their horses, naturally. The view of the gardens outside captured our attention. They were designed for strolling and taking in the manicured landscape of intrinsic circles and high hedges.

It was an early night for us after a long night of traveling. So, it was off to bed in our large boudoir that could fit two or three hotel rooms in back in the states. Lavishing, darling, lavishing. 

The morning next we woke to bustling of ground keepers and guests leaving from the wedding. Avoir! We, on the other hand, used our free breakfast ticket for the library/Restaurant and had a delightful breakfast with both hot and cold food options, some made ready to order. Fabulous! 

Once our bellies were full, we took off onto the open road having first to leave through the Arboretum that I now knew existed on the grounds. A specific placed mapping of trees. Much like one would catalogue their rare birds, some of these beautiful trees had been here for hundreds of years. They were nurtured and protected. I feel we should do this more in America.

Our first destination, leaving De Vere, was Castle Combe. By far the most paradisal of the villages in the Cotswolds. Stepping back in time to an era of peaceful simplicity. I felt almost wrong bringing my car anywhere near this unspoiled space. While cars were not allowed to park in the main square, we did leave our rental just on the outskirts with the other tourists who came to gawk at these spectacles. That is something that I have always loved about the British. Their ability to keep what is genuine and undefiled by modern architecture. They have their place, in oversized cities, scraping the skies upon great concrete landscapes. But also, these tiny hamlets perfectly preserved. They are, after all, the archetype of this region that I love so dearly. Sometimes, I feel that we have such an urge to push forward in our developments that money consumes and derails our notions. Once these historical towns are gone, we will never have these structures again. Yes, the British have rebuilt a great number of cities, following great wars. Many ancient cities have. But that wood will never be the same, the rock and its mortar will be tainted. Those who walked through the original doors, probably carved by their fathers or grandfather, will be lost to something far less than timeless. I guess I'm trying to say, that walking the coble stone streets is like stepping through a time portal. It felt marvelous and was a great privilege, to say the least. 

If you have traveled with me to any historical buildings with at least a few hundred years to their name, any country, any city, you will notice that I scrape my fingers along the edges of the wood grain of old doors, place my palm on the cold, damp stone walls of cathedrals and mill houses. I'm a weirdo, but I love connecting to the past.

We stopped at St. Andrews Church next. Funny enough, the building dating from medieval times is standing on the ground of an ancient Celtic PAGAN tribe that existed pre-Roman circa 43 AD. Irony, I know. I spent some time taking meticulous photos of the arches, and paid tribute to Queen Elizabeth's table (This is 2022, so her majesty was still around, Long Live the Queen.) Towards the back of the church was an artfully crafted stone monument of a Norman Knight, Sir Walter de Dunstanville, Baron of Castle Combe. He was gifted this land by William the conqueror as a tribe following the invasion in 1066. Dunstanvile died in 1270 AD. 

We only had a day to explore and so we continued on to our second and final stop in the Cotswolds. This was my favorite place in the area. It was called, Bourton-On-The-Water, also known as the Venice of Cotswolds. Families are often found scattered about on the lawns, picnicking along the edge of the river Windrush. The river is quite famous for its five well-appointed stone foot bridges. The oldest of the five is known as the mill bridge and it was built in 1654. Picture the Netherlands for me, if you will... Green grass flowing from walking bridge to walking bridge, Dogs jumping into the shallow banks, while ducks and geese paddle around them, unbothered by their playfulness. Parents grab an ice cream cone, couples walk hand-in-hand by the shops and the older gentlemen head into the pub to grab a pint. We, being tourist stop at every single shop, donning our favorite quid essential British caps including the ever-famous Sherlock Holmes double hunting cap called a deerstalker. While far from Baker Street, one can never have enough of Mr. Holmes, can we?

As one must do, we check out the local tourist recommendation which is one of the more fascinating and unique experiences of our trip to the Cotswolds. We saw a sign for The Model Village.  Now this I had remembered from my research prior to the trip. What I couldn't fathom was the vast size and attention to detail in this miniature village that was 1/9 the size of the very village we had been walking around all day. The best part was not only were the roof made of tile and the windows build to exact replica, but the shop owners were there too, labeled just as they are out on the pristine streets. Overtime, new owners would take over the business space and their name would be placed into the model. It was extraordinary. For someone who absolutely adores miniature anything, it was a paradise of sorts. I could have spent hours in there studying the tiniest of detail they put into each building, no expense was spared. There are about 100 buildings, and the construction of the models began in 1936 and were completed in 1940.

After such a breathtaking day around the quaint towns in the ever-famous Cotswolds, we returned to our palace, no, seriously, that gate house we drove past to get to the hotel (bite lip). A little bite of dinner in the library later and we were strolling through the hotel a bit. We lastly came upon a hallway with windows along the left edges. We peered inside one and saw that the window led to a expansive room that went from the base of the hotel all the way to the glass roof above.  This was the atrium or "the heart" of the home. Guests were invited to come in and grab a drink at the bar or relax in one of their many seats for an array of tapas. Across from us was another set of windows, allowing us to walk all the way around the atrium with wide panoramic views of the guests enjoying their beverages below. It was something like I'd never seen before and wish I had in my house in Rhode Island. Once we had our fill of exploration, we resided to bed, ultimately listening to music of the wedding happening just outside our window in the Orangery until midnight. The DJ, quite tired at this point, after jazzing to every cliche wedding song for 5 hours, asked the guests to please leave. Yes, they have a special glass domed building used as a personal orange grove and also wedding venue. Looking at these pictures, you can see why. 

When the morning broke and it was time to head off to our next stop in our grand adventure, we grabbed a bicycle from the selection they had for their guests to use and rode around the sculpted garden, white crushed stone footpaths and rolling hills. For a moment we could pretend this was an everyday event. That this perhaps was less a hotel and actually a home away from home. The tree sparrows rustled in the great chestnut trees around us. Really impressive, in fact, with ancestry dating back to over 1000 years old! There's so much to take away from these two short days starting our trip in England. It could only suggest that we were in for an amazing voyage.