A Day of Unbelievable Transport Misadventures in the Cotswolds on Llew’s Birthday

 A Day of Unbelievable Transport Misadventures in the Cotswolds on Llew’s Birthday

Cotswolds

Monday, May 23, 2022

Today, turned out to be the most adventurous of our current travels—and not always in the best way! Still, if you can keep your good humor on your birthday through a whole series of mishaps, you are a really great guy to be with! And that was Llew!

So, to begin at the beginning…I awoke at 6.00 am (as is my wont) and began blogging while Llew enjoyed a leisurely lie-in. My blog post was almost done when he began to stir. We made ourselves cups of cappuccino in our lovely Lake Street Studios, showered, got dressed (warmly as it promised to be a brisk day) and walked along Hinksey Park to the home of our friends Susan and Tony who were hosting us for breakfast. There were all the fixings of a good Continental brekkie awaiting us: Sainsbury’s Fruit and Nut Muesli with yogurt and milk, toast with home made orange marmalade and lovely decaf coffee that our host knows is our preference and she makes sure she stocks it whenever I am staying at her’s. 

Breakfast done, we checked the Stagecoach bus timetable and hurried off, after wishing our hosts goodbye, to launch excitedly on what we hoped would be a really splendid day in the Cotswolds. Alas, Big time disappointments awaited…

The bus on the Abingdon Road down to Oxford City Center (three stops) arrived promptly but the driver told us that he could not sell us the week’s pass for the Stagecoach network that we needed. Still, knowing that we intended to buy it, he allowed us to ride with no charge (as our pass, he said, would cover the fare). Within ten minutes, we were at the bus-stop on Magdalen Street awaiting the arrival of the S3 Stagecoach bus to Chipping Norton as we intended to make that spot our base in the Cotswolds. 

However, when the bus arrived (on the dot of 9.20 am, as expected), our day’s disasters began. The driver (one Stuart) told us he could sell us the smart cart which we could fill with a week’s worth of unlimited travel. At 24 pounds each, it seemed like a steal and we bought two passes. The bus left promptly and we began to sail down the Woodstock Road. However, barely did we reach the Wolvercote Roundabout than there was a detour because of major road works. The driver then switched to the narrowest country roads which pushed our vehicle forward at snail’s pace and already began to create a sense of annoyance in me. When eventually, we reached the town of Woodstock (long after schedule), the American folks seated front and center on the upper deck jumped off (to visit Blenheim Palace—which we have covered before—birthplace of Sir Winston Churchill and homestead of the Dukes of Marlborough from whose family the former Prime Minister had hailed). Llew and I took those seats and, for a while, enjoyed the drive around the Blenheim Estate past tiny country lanes whose yellow laburnum trees made picturesque canopies as we brushed beneath them.

We sailed along, still very much behind schedule, for what I hoped would be Chipping Norton, last stop on the bus, when suddenly the bus stopped in the middle of nowhere. The driver came running up to tell us that there was fire in his engine and we had to vacate the vehicle. We were the only passengers on the upper deck with one other woman downstairs. Alarmed, we jumped off—mind you, this was in the middle of nowhere and the chances of another bus coming to rescue us would be a whole hour later!

This was the point at which we discovered that our S3 bus would not be terminating at Chipping Norton (as we had thought) but at the village of Charlbury which was actually just a ten minute walk away. It appears that the S3 has three different destinations from Oxford!!!! Stuart, the driver, had neglected to tell us, at Oxford when we had bought our passes, that we had boarded the wrong bus and should wait until the one for Chipping Norton appeared. I was really cross by this time! Anyway, the other passenger, a sweet English artist named Jane, called her daughter to get her to pick us up and drop us to Charlbury from where she and Stuart told us we could get Bus No. X9 to Chipping Norton (It was not on the Stagecoach network—so we’d have to cough up some more quid to pay for that sector). More annoyance! 

However, Jane’s daughter was not free right away—she was working from home and was on an important call! She suggested we begin walking towards Charlbury and she could pick us up as soon as she could! Since it was only a ten minute walk, we sauntered on. Luckily, the weather held out and it was a pleasant jaunt.

As we trundled along, our S3 bus appeared behind us. Stuart told us that he had received orders to get us back on the bus and on to Charlbury—no fire was evident anyway! So back we got on the bus and off we were within kissing distance of Charlbury when he received word again that he should abandon the vehicle. And so, again, on the outskirts of Charlbury, we were told to alight! By this time, I was truly ruffled! 

With no choice—mind you, a fire alarm on the same bus twice is truly the stuff of fiction—we walked to Charlbury, Yes, it is a pretty village with sweet little cottages and gardens in full bloom. There happened to be an art festival on and Jane, the artist, invited us to take a tour of the houses that were hosting a series of art events. Ordinarily, we’d have jumped at the unexpected pleasure…but we had an agenda. We were still nowhere near the Cotswolds! 

Passing by a deli and cafe, we decided to order take-away coffees and cake and to use the facilities. But then when we saw that the X9 would be with us in just ten minutes, we just ordered cake and ran! It was, after all, Llew’s birthday, so it made sense to eat cake—a mile-high Coffee Walnut Cake (my favorite) at that!

Armed with cake (not ambushed by it!), we stood at the bus-stop until the X9 came along. Two tickets were bought as we took our seats and sailed off towards Chipping Norton. Yes, the Cotswold countryside is just glorious but I was so rattled, by this point, that I could barely appreciate it. A good twenty minutes later, we were finally at Chipping Norton.

Exploring Chipping Norton:

The name ‘Chipping’ is a derivation of the Old English “Kepping’ which means “Market’. Chipping Norton was a market town in medieval times and the Town Hall still stands in the honey-yellow Cotswold stone of the entire region, to proclaim its heritage. We walked past it and went left downhill along Church Street as I wanted to show Llew the row of delightful alms houses that were built, in the 1500s, to provide accommodation for the widows of soldiers who had died fighting for their country. These little cottages with their stone facades and slate roofs are now private homes, of course, but they make for some darling pictures. We posed with them and then returned to the town center to make inquiries about getting a bus to reach the Cotswold market town of Stow-on-The-Wold. But no dice! At every juncture, we were told that the one bus that plies between the two points, is only available on Wednesdays! Left with no choice, we realized that the only way to get to our next port of call was by Taxi.

A Disaster of a Taxi Ride:

So, after looking all over for what the British call the “taxi rank” (taxi stand), we found one lone taxi waiting for a passenger. We inquired as to whether he would drive us to Stow and he said he would for 20 pounds—no, he did not take cards—“only cash”. Left again with no choice, we entered his taxi. 

And what a disgusting taxi ride it was too! First of all, the taxi had not been cleaned in forever—there actually were cobwebs in the corners of the taxi. Cobwebs!!! You cannot make this up! How did cobwebs get inside a taxi??? Anyway, once inside, we realized that the vehicle stank because the driver had probably not bathed in a week! It was just sickening! Llew and I were gagging and had to raise the windows up so that some fresh air could enter and dissipate the stench. Thankfully, it was a short ride of about fifteen minutes, when, on arrival, we paid him our cash and escaped in a hurry. Yes, we had arrived at Stow Market Square…but which time it was lunch time.

Exploring Stow-on-The-Wold:

Stow-on-the-Wold would have been a busy market town in the Middle Ages when the Cotswolds were among the most prosperous part of the country. The green flat land, well-watered by intermittent showers all year round, meant fertile soil for growing grass that fed farm animals, mainly sheep that were reared for their wool. It was the woolen industry that fueled the economy of Medieval England and led to enormous wealth for sheep farmers that filtered down to all levels of the population. The beautiful ‘wool churches’ that are found in every village and town are the result of this abundance of blessing. Every week, a huge market would be held in the square and people from far and wide would arrive to buy and sell their goods. This weekly tradition continues to this day.

I should mention, that about twenty years ago, we had taken a family driving holiday in the Cotswolds—with Llew at the wheel and me navigating in an age before GPS (or SatNav as it is known in the UK). We had driven through these very towns including Stow. We still remember ordering soup for lunch at a weekly market being held in the square and when we requested a spoon, were used asked to pay 10 p for it!!!!! For a plastic spoon!!! Did they expect us to slurp up our soup like dogs??? You can imagine how flabbergasted we were! Both Llew and I chuckled over that memory although Llew could not remember ever having been in this historic town!

Continuing our rambles in the charming town, we discovered the town's Stocks in the main square--the contraption used to name and shame miscreants in the Middle Ages. Your head and hands were placed in a wooden frame and members of the community could hurl rotten veg at you by way of punishment. Today, I suppose we have Face Book! We took pictures of the stocks and the The Old Stock Inn before we spent a while looking at the windows of antiques shops—we are not in the market to buy any more antiques! Further through the town, we came upon The Porch House, a hotel that dates from 947 AD and is supposed to be the oldest hotel in England. It does wear its antiquity on its sleeve for its ancient timber frame sags and its hardware, over the main door, does look as if it has rusted for a thousand years. 

You can still see the grandeur of a past era in the sturdy, official buildings—one of which (King Edward’s Hall) contained the local library. We were able to use the wifi services there and Llew was able to pick up many of his birthday messages from India. The librarian there gave me a schedule for the bus that would then take us to the next town, Bourton-on-The-Water where we next intended to go.

More strolling around the village, past an abundance of tea rooms, souvenir shops selling Cotswold produce such as cheese, honey, jams, marmalades, chutneys, lavender soap, lemon soap, etc. took us towards the outskirts. Then realizing that our bus would soon be arriving, we nipped into a Co-Op for sandwiches (Bacon and Egg and Prawn Mayonnaise) which we thought we would eat on the bus for want of time.

Off to Bourton-on-The-Water:

When our bus did come along—on schedule—we boarded it for the ten minute ride to Bourton-on-The-Water which is nicknamed “The Venice of the Cotswolds”. We realized why soon enough when we saw the network of little canals that crisscross this town, punctuated at every turn by quaint bridges over which you can walk. Yes, we had visited this town too and memories of past jaunts flooded our minds as we alighted from the bus. To our rotten luck, it had begun to drizzle and we were grateful for my tiny brolly that allowed us to hurry off to the next item on our agenda: a visit to the Model Village. This place is named as one of the Must-See attractions of the Cotswolds and in all the You Tube videos I had watched of the Cotswolds, this was always noted as worth seeing. After making inquiries as to its location, we were told by a shop keeper exactly where to go. We found it near the Post Office past a place called The New Old Inn.

The Charming Thrills of the Model Village:

Indeed the Model Village was every bit as charming as it is reputed to be. For four pounds each, we entered a small space that was filled with a reproduction of the village of Bourton-On-The-Water at a scale of 1/19th of the real structures. It was simply brilliantly crafted with every lane, street, bridge, hotel, shop, restaurant and garden reproduced to perfection. The detail was simply astounding. Inside each of the houses you could see the miniature furniture that was also a real representation of the building in question, You walk through streets feeling a bit like a giant—like Gulliver might have done in the Land of the Lilliputians! When you pass the church, you can hear organ music emanating from it. You can see what is called “The Old Mill” too—this immediately led me to go out in search of it. I could not stop taking pictures as I was completely enchanted by this tiny place. In fact, I even took a video of the place although I am, by no means, a good videographer. There was a heightened bridge from which one received a good bird’s eye view of the entire village—another touch of genius. Overall, I can heartily recommend this place which came, like a breath of fresh air, after what was shaping up to be an awful day.

More Rambles in Bourton-On-The Water:

After we left the Model Village, we continued our rambles in Bourton-On-The-Water. It is truly a delightful place with its network of canals and bridges that just beg to be crossed and photographed. The place was swarming with bus loads of tourists on day trips from Oxford. We had a lot of company in this little place. 

Determined to find The Old Mill, we made inquiries and were told to follow the river to the very end—we’d find it there.  Following the river brought us to a courtyard of a pub which I entered quite boldly although Llew did not follow my lead! There, I discovered, in conversation with a local patron, that the old mill wheel had been removed about five years ago. However, he did show me the position in which it used to be. He also suggested we take a walk to the two tiny villages of Upper Slaughter and Lower Slaughter (both of which we have visited before, twenty years ago) for more charming vistas. However, Llew’s feet have started to protest from all the incessant walking and are showing early signs of the dreaded plantar fasciitis. Hence, on asking him if he felt up to the two mile hike back and forth, I could see from his face that he was reluctant to push it. We decided to nix that plan and just relax in Bourton for a while longer. Looking at the bus schedule for the 801 that would take us back to Stow, we found it ready to leave in twenty minutes. This left us enough time to browse through the china and souvenir shops—my delight entirely!

Journey Back Home:

The reverse journey back home was equally eventful. While the bus to Stow did appear on time, it was packed to capacity and at every juncture, we had to pay the additional rider for the tickets that were outside the Stagecoach network. Back at Stow, in the library, looking for wifi connections, we discovered that there was simply no transport available to get us to Chipping Norton except for taxis. These could not be hailed on the street and there was no taxi "rank" in Stow. Calling for a taxi was the only option. We then sat at the library and called about 12 different taxi companies, only to draw a blank. They were either engaged, away from their base, unable to get us for at least an hour or otherwise unavailable. Llew was getting anxious, by this point, as we did have dinner reservations at 7.45 pm at Quod on the High Street in Oxford to celebrate his birthday with our friends Susan and Tony. 

Well, after a good 45 minutes had passed and just when we decided to take the bus to Moreton-on-Marsh from where we would get a train back to Oxford,  I received a call back from one of the drivers named Cliff who said he could pick us up in ten minutes at the library. Glory be to God for little mercies! 

Cliff did arrive, ten minutes later, during which time we tried hard to find a take-away coffee or tea! No dice! All the tea rooms closed at 4.00 pm! Why the deceptive name—tea rooms…not open at tea-time???? Why??? 

Anyway, off we went with Cliff who turned out to be the nicest guy. From South Africa’s Cape Town originally, he had a lot to talk to us about his emigration from there to the UK and to the Cotswolds specifically. He kept up a happy chatter—such a far cry from the awful ride we’d had when getting to Stow earlier in the day.

But when we reached Chipping Norton, what did we see???? But our bus, the Stagecoach S3 to Oxford just ready to leave. It was at the bus stop when we saw it but by the time Cliff found a safe parking spot for us to get out, Llew had already jumped out to try to get the driver to stay a few seconds more to allow us to board.  Again, luck was not in our good books today and the bus closed it doors and began to roll. 

That was when Cliff said to me, “I can follow the bus and get you guys on. But where is your husband?” So I had to jump out of the bus, gesture to Llew that he should run as we were not letting the taxi go! Back in the taxi we climbed, Cliff gunned it and in about five minutes, after the bus came to a stop, Cliff put us down and we rushed to the stop, waving frantically at the driver who actually did stop the vehicle and allow us to climb on.  As the next bus was only going to be a good hour later, we were just thrilled beyond words to actually be on the bus headed to Oxford. What a day it had been!!! 

Back in Oxford, we stopped at Tesco as I needed to buy soap and a couple of other bits and bobs. We then hopped on to the bus going down the Abingdon Road and were at home about twenty minutes later. It was the perfect time to stretch out after the trials and tribulations of our day. We sincerely hoped we would not have any more snafus.

Llew’s Birthday Dinner at Quod on The High:

At 7.30 pm, after freshening up and getting dressed for our slap-up meal on The High, Llew and I left our studio to catch a bus on the Abingdon Road to take us to Oxford’s High Street. A bus came along just a few minutes later and we were dropped off outside Queen’s College in no time at all. Walking briskly to the restaurant that neither of us had tried before, Quod, an upscale Continental restaurant, we discovered that we had arrived five minutes’ early and that our guests had not yet made an appearance.

Seated and scanning the menu, we spied Tony and Susan come in just ten minutes later. We ordered a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon for the table and since I am allergic to wine, I picked a classic margarita. We toasted Llew and his health and thanked Susan and Tony who are leaving their home to us as they go off to Cambridge. Their home shall be ours for the next few days. How blessed are we in the generosity of our friends?

I was the only one who had a starter as I could not resist the Scallops, Prawns and Mushroom Gratin which arrived in a large clam shell. It was just delicious with a squeeze of lemon juice. Everyone around the table had a taste and proclaimed it divine. For our mains, I chose the Crispy Duck which was simply excellent,. I always choose duck whenever I have the chance as it is so delicious, plus it is not something you usually eat at home. Llew had the spatchcocked Chicken (as the restaurant was out of quails that were on the menu), Tony had the fillet of Sea Bass and Sue chose the Salmon and Dill Cakes which she had ordered on a previous visit and simply loves. “Pudding,” as the Brits say, was Chocolate Pots. We ordered two and shared them. And Llew’s came on a special plate with a candle stuck in it and “Happy Birthday” spelled out in chocolate sauce! Nice touch! Of course, we then sang ‘Happy Birthday” to Llew and made it a really lovely celebration meal for him.

Not long after we had used wash rooms and cleared bills it was time to leave. Oxford wears a very special mantle at night and we were happy to see it in this light. We walked down to St. Aldate’s and jumped into a bus for the three stops it took to get to our Studio. Tony and Susan had jumped off one stop earlier. 

It took me a long while to fall asleep as all the excitement of a vexing day came back to mind. But, in the end, we saw everything we had planned (except for the Slaughters and Moreton-on-Marsh and perhaps there will still be time to cover those.

When I did actually fall asleep, I was thinking about tomorrow and the fact that we will be visiting Highgrove, Cotswolds estate of Prince Charles and Camilla. We will also be seeing our friends Mary and Sam who will be driving down from Derby in the Peak District National Park to spend the day with us. What a warming thought!

Until tomorrow…cheerio!