Another Incredible (Graduation) Day in the City of Dreaming Spires: Oxford, Here I Come!

Saturday, July 29, 2023

Oxford: Another Enchanting (Graduation) Day in the City of Dreaming Spires

Getting Out of London:

I am always excited on a trip to Oxford. It brings sharply to my mind my very first journey in 1987 with my friend Firdaus by my side, as we made our way to Oxford to become students there. Other than the fact that we really got to know each other on that journey, I remember sheep in the meadows, cows in the corn. Since then I have done this journey countless times. So, I left my house at 6.30 am, caught the 44 bus from Battersea Park Road to Victoria, got to the Coach Station and since I had over 45 minutes to kill, began to look for breakfast. Sainsbury Local was just across the road, but it only opens at 7.00 am—I had a few minutes’ wait and decided to take a stroll along lovely Elizabeth Street to windowshop.

Window Shopping on Elizabeth Street in London:

I am familiar with Elizabeth Street as the place from where Jo Malone first launched her business in perfume. After she sold Jo Malone to Estee Lauder and gave herself a five-year break before launching another new parfumerie from scratch (Jo Loves), she based it where her love affair with perfume began—on Elizabeth Street. I have been to her lovely fragranced shop here on more occasions than I can remember and this time too, I made a bee line there. Of course, everything was closed and the street, which is basically, a pedestrian plaza, was very quiet. Other shops that caught my eye were Phillip Treacy’s store (he is the millionaire milliner) from which he sells the most amazing hats to a very discerning clientele. The ones I glimpsed from the bow windows were just exquisite and I had visions of Ascot and royal weddings as I took in the sight. There is also Peggy Porchen who makes one-of-a-kind cakes and a couple of antiques shops, including Joanna Wood, whose English Country interiors have been my own inspiration for decades. In fact, I was so enchanted by a pair of lamps in the windows that I could have easily made off with them, if the circumstances were right and I was still living in another era of my life!

Sainsbury’s Baked Goods for Brekkie:

It was time to return to Sainsbury’s (which had just opened) from where I picked up a pain au chocolat and an almond croissant. I did not bother getting coffee as I had a bottle of water in my bag. Inside the coach station, I looked for departures from Oxford on the board—only to find none. I then dug out my ticket to find that National Express has commissioned the Oxford Tube to run their passengers to Oxford. Of course, it meant running across the street to find the coaches lined up there and, in a few minutes, to get my preferred seat (upper deck, front and center) and off we went at 7.25 am on a Saturday morning, while the city still slumbered.

I love the journey out of London—down Buckingham Palace Road, on to Wellington Arch and Apsley House, then around the bend to Park Lane with its expanses of green at Green Park and The Dorchester and the grand sculpture and gardens all along Park Lane until we arrive at Marble Arch, make a sharp left to sail down Bayswater Road past Notting Hill and Lancaster Gate Tube stations and then on to Holland Park (which always makes me look for the home of my friends Loulou and Paul) and on to Shepherd’s Bush and the Westgate Shopping Center. I munched my breakfast pastries en route and thought I would sleep once we did the highway (as has happened in the past), but no luck this time around. I feasted my eyes on sheep and brown cows and black horses as the coach ate up the miles and we took the turn to Lewknor and then the Thornhill Park and Ride before we passed through Hillingdon and entered Oxford at St. Clement’s. From this point on, I began to shoot video footage of the city and our approach into it, past Magdalen Tower and the Botanic Garden and onto Queen’s College where the coach makes a stop before turning left at Carfax to get to St. Aldate’s.

Hopping Off on the High:

Oxford was still asleep (or just awaking) when I hopped off the coach at 9.10 am (right on schedule). I caught a glimpse of a woman in a grand sari, her husband in an Indian achkan. Besides them was their son, a graduating student obviously, already wearing his cap and gown in time for the day’s later formalities and festivities. One of my favorite gift stores in Oxford, Babylon, was still closed and I decided to visit it again after an hour. Although I would usually have simply crossed The High and entered Queens Lane to begin my customary favorite walk, this time round, I decided to do something really different.

First Delightful Walk of the Day:

I retraced the steps of the bus and peered down the stone balustrades over Magdalen Bridge to see the calm Cherwell below. Crew members were getting ready for the day and dozens of punts lay slumbering along the banks of the Botanic Garden. I had the opportunity to take several pictures (including a few selfies on a really windy day) and then crossed the High to begin my walk alone Rose Lane, on the opposite side. I whipped out my trusty map and discovered that if I followed the lane that runs alongside the outer wall of the Botanic Garden, I would reach the Cherwell. It was worth exploring. Not another soul was in sight—so for that brief blissful morning, I had the city and its dreaming spires to myself. En route, when the shot caught my eye, I took pictures of the lush summer bounty in the Botanic Garden where spillage tumbles over the wall: I saw early bunches of grapes on a vine, white Morning Glories, clematis in royal purple and a bunch of wild mauve flowers (gilly flowers) all of which I photographed.

Across, on the other side of a wrought iron fence, I saw the Gothic walls of Merton College across Merton Field. In a few minutes, I reached a bend in the Cherwell. It was still too early to spy punts but on the other side, I saw the pavilion of the cricket ground and the emerald-green expanse of the pitch. Following my map, I walked alongside Merton Field until the spire of Christ Church Cathedral came into view. Then followed more spires, more honey-toned Cotswold stone walls and, in a short time, I was parallel to the Broad Walk that would have led me straight to St. Aldate’s. I decided to walk back to the High past Merton College instead. A small gate brought me to Merton Strreet, the beautiful cobbled oldest street in Oxford on which stands Merton College, the oldest college in the Town, dating from the early 1200s. The bells of Merton College were chiming, and I shot some video—highly atmospheric—before I inquired inside the Porter’s Lodge as to whether I could visit the chapel alone. They said I would need to buy a ticket for 5 pounds to see the entire college. I decided against it (perhaps I shall do it someday with Llew as his nephew as a student at Merton, on a Rhodes Scholarship, when he had studied British jurisprudence here, a few years ago).

I crossed from Magpie Lane back on the High after what was one of the most charming walks I have taken. The early dawn light and the rising sun gilding the Cotswold stone, permitted many delightful photographs across the bright green lawns. I also shot chestnut trees that are getting ready to produce their nut-filled cases.

It was a walk that lasted a whole hour and I looked for a place to sit and perhaps get a hot drink when I realized that Babylon, my preferred gift shop, would be open. I browsed inside but did not find anything that called my name. Leaving quickly, I crossed the street and decided to start my second walk of the day.

My Second Walk in Oxford--One of my Favorites:

I have, in past blog posts, provided details of the history of the colleges I pass through on this, my favorite walk in Oxford (so I shall refrain from doing so this time). Suffice it to say that you pass by New College and spy the spires of All Souls College and then the dome of the Radcliff Camera. In the spring, this walk is more enchanting as wisteria cascades down the college walls bringing a punctuation of mauve notes to the grey and honey toned walls as you pass by old-world gas lamps.

At Hereford College, you go under the Bridge of Sighs and there I made a right to get to the Broad. I noticed at once that the crowds had increased considerably in volume (it was almost 10,30 am by this time). The precincts of the Sheldonian Theatre were out-of-bounds as graduation formalities would be going on inside Christopher Wren’s masterpiece of a building, Oxford’s most recognizable (together with the Radcliff Camera--James Gibbs’ masterpiece). Indeed, Oxford in an architectural paradise and if it is not Wren, it is his pupil Nicholas Hawksmoor’s work (as in the Clarendon Building) that catches the eye. It is an endless visual feast and I ate greedily of the offerings.

I saw down on the bench opposite the Weston Library just for a rest and gazed up at the camera in St. Martin’s School—it is the one place I look at every single day when I am in my usual home as there is a 24 hour streaming service offered by this device. Next, I decided to go along to the Oxfam store where I always look for DVDs and other vintage treasures. This time I found The Monuments Men, one of the most mesmerizing of stories for an art lover. I grabbed it for 2 pounds and then sat outside the store for a while in the pavement café area where tables and chairs offered my feet some respite. I found the city simply heaving. Large crowds of students (some looking no older than high schoolers) were out taking guided walks with certified guides (obviously all taking summer school courses at Oxford). I listened to the commentary from some of them and discovered that St. Frideswald, a Medieval saint whose personal story of chastity is closely linked with the city, has a church somewhere close by and that Mr. Bean (Rowan Atkinson) studied Engineering at Trinity College, across the road from where I sat.

By then it was about 12 noon and I had a 12.30 pm lunch appointment with my friend Dr. Fiona Mann who was driving in from Upper Compton (or Lower?) to meet me. I joined the throngs on Cornmarket Lane, popped into Boots to find clip-on sunglasses and then turned the bend at Carfax to enter St. George’s Street before getting to the Westgate Shopping Center. I popped into Jo Malone, spritzed myself to freshen up and then walked along the High to get to Whittard’s to meet my friend Christophe who works there. Alas, I discovered that he left over a year ago and no one knows where he now is. Oh well…

Lunch with My Friend at Vaults and Gardens Café:

On cue, at 12.30, I found myself gazing at the dome of the Radcliff Camera and at the vast crowds posing for pictures along its wrought iron fencing. When I entered the Vaults and Gardens Café that I know well as I have eaten here at various times, over the years, with various friends, my friend Fiona spied me right away. We had an affectionate reunion hug before we found a table and settled down for a right royal natter. It has been exactly 14 months since she took Llew and me in her car to Waddendon Manor, a totally unforgettable experience, in the Aylesbury countryside. This time round, we decided to get lunch (my treat—after all, she had driven a long way to see me) and then sit down for a long catch up.

We went inside the restaurant to order: the menu changes daily and is up on the walls on large blackboards. I ordered a Squash, Celeriac and Coriander Soup (served with sourdough bread and butter) and an Oxford Cheddar and Gruyere Sourdough Rarebit. Fiona ordered the rarebit and a coffee and took our trays outside, found a lovely table at the side and focussed on enjoying our chat and our meal. The afternoon was simply gorgeous, weather-wise, with the cool wind tempered by the warmth of the sun. After we had exchanged family news and talked about our respective current academic projects, that is a good two hours later, we parted company having taken some pictures in Radcliff Square.

Third Walk—This one in Exeter College:

It was just past 2.30 pm when Fiona and I said our goodbyes. It was the perfect time for me to visit my own college, Exeter College, and so off I went down Brasenose Lane, only to realize that the Fellows Garden and the ramparts of the wall that overlooks Radcliff Square, would be completely out of bounds, long-term, as a huge renovation is occurring in the Library of Exeter College.

When I entered the Porter’s Lodge, I discovered that almost the entire college premises were taken over by a wedding party. There was a large white marquee on the main Quad lawns and the Porter informed me that although alumni were permitted to enter, they were requested to stay away from the chapel where the nuptials had just taken place, the dining hall where the luncheon feast would shortly occur (in the marquee, drinks and cocktails were being served) and the Fellows Garden (where full-scale construction had shut down the entire venue). Fortunately, I was able to enter the Margary Quad where my room was located and where I was able to take a few pictures.

Museum Exploration Begins—The Weston Library First:

A little later, I got out of Exeter College and decided to cross the Broad to get to Blackwell’s Book Store where I could rest my feet. I was beginning to feel seriously fatigued by this time and needed a rest. Inside Blackwell’s, I found one of my favorite books on Oxford, It is fully illustrated by George Byfield whose watercolors I simply adore—I own the companion book on ‘London’ and someday I will buy the Oxford book too. Only not on this occasion. I took a picture of Lady Margaret Hall College from the book for my Repatriates Group friend, Deborah, before I left. I had given myself a 45-minute rest and I was ready to leave.

Next door, I found myself in the gift shop of the Weston Library. I browsed around and found a lot of new merchandise. That’s the great thing about these museum stores—they are constantly changing their wares (so there is always a pleasant surprise). The cushion covers and the tote bags based on the Medieval tapestry out in the lobby are fully sold out. I am so glad I had bought the tote bags, a year ago, and fashioned cushions out of them myself. I spied a nice scarf printed with books from the 1940s, but I have too many scarves and could do without it.

I used the facilities at the Weston Library and then decided to take a look at their newest exhibitions. These too are always changing and one can be fascinated by what one finds of the treasures of the collection. There was an exhibition on ‘The Giver and the Gift’ (the gifts being books) that had on display medieval psalters and Bibles and Quorans that were written on scrolls as well as contemporary books. I was already too fatigued to be able to read every curatorial note, but I got a general gist of the show. Had I more time, I know I would have enjoyed it much more. The second exhibition, in the adjoining gallery was entitled ‘Alphabets Live”—a show on the manner in which the alphabet and their letters feature in our lives. I did not give it too much time before I left to make my way to the Ashmolean Museum. It was already 3.30 pm and I would have no more than 90 minutes there.

Visiting the Ashmolean Museum:

On an afternoon that was simply crammed with human beings, St. Giles and particularly the corner where the Ashmolean Museum shares space with the five-star Randolph Hotel, I tried to spy the location of the other webcam that streams 24/7 scenes of real-life in real time on You Tube. I believe I did see it tucked in a window on the first floor. I looked at the crowds crossing the street and decided to get away as quickly as possible. Going through the side street and gate that takes one into the Ashmolean Museum, for the first time, I found myself on the buzzing portico of the Neo-Classical building.

Once inside, I lost little time making my way to the Porcelain Rooms which I always love and where I can spend a whole day. Sadly, I was running out of time and energy and made a direct bee line for the European paintings on the second floor. Of course, I saw Paolo Uccelo’s The Hunt and Pietro di Cosimo’s The Forest Fire (both of which have individual episodes of Morse and Lewis respectively based on them) before I climbed one floor to get to the Pre-Raphaelites and Turner’s View of Oxford. This time round, my eyes were attracted to two wonderful paintings by William Bell Scott (1811-1890), an artist with whose name I am unfamiliar. He has painted two works that sit side-by-side in the Ashmolean: Keats’ Grave and Shelley’s Grave—both in the Protestant Cemetery in Rome where they died within a year of year other (1821 and 1822—my favorite poet Keats first, then his best friend Shelley). Somewhat inexplicably, the cemetery sits right by a Pyramid and both poets, lie in its shadow. They are truly evocative of the Romantic Age and the tragic lives of the poets that gave us some of our best-loved works.

By then, it was 5.00 pm and the museum staff were already bustling us out. I used the facilities in the basement for the last time and then began to think seriously of getting home. I popped into a second-hand bookstore on the way out and then into Five Guys for a coffee and their salted peanuts. Almost an hour later, I decided to see if the conductor on the Oxford Tube would permit me to board early—my ticket said 8.30, but by 6.00 pm, I’d had enough and badly needed a long sit-down. The thought of walking all the way down the High to Queen’s College was daunting until I remembered that I could board the bus at the terminus at Gloucester Green which was less that five minutes away. And that’s what I did. It gave me a chance to look at the Gloucester Green Street Market which was winding down and, in about ten minutes, I was in a coach ready to wend my exhausted way home. I discovered that there is no restriction on when one has return—any time within a three month period is fine. I loved the flexibility and off we went!

En route to London:

I seriously thought I would have a long snooze on the bus; I had a very friendly and talkative companion who happened to be a second year PhD Chemistry student at St. Edmund Hall. His name was Jasper and he told me all about his dissertation and his American girl friend who wishes to specialize in Urulogy. The miles were just eaten up by our conversation and before I knew it, he was getting off at White City heading home to his parents who live at Ealing, not too far from where I had once rented a Victorian flat! In Oxford, he was renting a flat at Norham Gardens where I had once rented a flat! We simply could not get over the coincidence!

Back Home to Battersea:

It was just past 8.15pm when we arrived at Victoria. I ate the second half of my Rarebit on Sourdough in the coach together with a helping of Tiramisu which I had bought from Sainsbury earlier in the day. This meant that I could get home, take a shower and go straight to bed as I was deeply fatigued.

The 44 bus from across the Victoria coach station was not long in coming and I jumped into it and rode the 15 minute journey to Battersea where I got off and walked quickly along Candahar Road to Sarah’s. Inside, I found her at the end of a nice dinner party with two friends, one of whom had a dog named Lola. Sarah asked if I wanted a drink, but I was only keen to get up to my room. Once inside, I sorted through my things, checked my email and whatsapp messages (as I had no connectivity all day), brushed and flossed my teeth and went straight to bed at 10.30 pm.

Until tomorrow…cheerio!

Exploring the Beauty of the Cotswolds with Friends: Moreton-on-Marsh, Sezincote Gardens, Broadway Tower, Broadway.

Exploring the Beauty of the Cotswolds with Friends: Moreton-on-Marsh, Sezincote Gardens, Broadway Tower, Broadway.

Cotswolds 

Wednesday, May 25, 2022

    Today we were grateful for friends. And for friends with cars! Today we were able to tour a good part of the Northern Cotswolds with friends who made it a delight and a convenience as they chauffeured us around one of the most beautiful parts of the world--the Cotswolds.

    Our day began in our friends' Sue and Tony's home in Oxford as we breakfasted on muesli with yogurt and milk and toast with butter and marmalade--all washed down with good decaff coffee.  Our showers done, we left our place at 9.00 am for the brisk walk to Oxford Town Center intending to catch the 9.20 am bus to Chipping Norton (an hour away) where our friends Sam and Mary intended to meet us. But when we arrived at the bus stop on Magdalen Road, we discovered that our bus was at 9.50am--half an hour later, after browsing through Sainsbury and Tesco and a book shop that had just opened, we were on our way. The bus ride was, fortunately, uneventful, as we went by Blenheim Palace and Grounds and arrived at "Chippy" (as it is now popularly known). We spied Mary browsing through the charity shops from the top deck of our bus as we sailed in towards the last stop. 

    No sooner did we get off than Llew went to find her while I nipped into a charity shop myself. There was some china I decided to buy and a necklace that I had seen yesterday but had passed up. I had my items wrapped then nipped into another shop to buy a bag! Those purchases done (and with Mary buying a Royal Doulton pitcher "for custard"), we were on our way in their car headed to Moreton-on-Marsh.

Exploring Moreton-on-Marsh:

      This was a Cotswold town I had wanted to see the day before yesterday, but with all the bus mishaps we'd had and the many glitches with taxis, we had nixed the plan. So, when Sam suggested we start off here today, we were game. Moreton turned out to be a very typical Cotswold town with honey-yellow stone structures lining both sides of the main roads. Shops and restaurants were lined up alongside the main artery. Mary and I found distraction in a few shops and I found a few odds and ends to bring back home. However, other than its countrified charm, Moreton does not have much to recommend it. So, on we went. 

The Incredible House and Gardens of Sezincote:

    Our next port of call is on the list of Must-See Highlights of the Cotswolds and since our heritage is Indian, it made perfect sense for us to head to Sezincote (pronounced "Season-cote") next. A short drive away, we were at the entrance to one of the most visited parts of the Cotswolds and one of the most unusual.

    I am not clear who built the extravagant Indian-style house in the middle of the Cotswolds as neither the introductory brochure nor the website gives many details. I shall have to do some more digging to get to the origins of this fairy-tale place that has become a popular venue for Indian weddings--and understandably so. The onion-domes and minarets that comprise this structure could well lead one to believe one is in a palace in Jaipur. We did not go inside the house which is decorated in Western Baroque style, but we did buy tickets (7.50 pounds each) to take a self-guided tour of the gardens. After parking our car, we walked down a steep slope to get to the house and gardens which sit in a bowl, surrounding by gently-rolling Cotswold hills all around. 

    A wedding marquee was being set up as we approached but we were able to take pictures without getting those ugly structural backbones into them. We focussed instead on the gardens which are extensive and beautifully landscaped. Interestingly, they are constructed in tiers. Hence, you can stand at one spot and survey the entire landscape and decide where you would like to stray next. There is a map that is handed out with the tickets, but one is free to take the road not traveled (as it were). 

    The garden is punctuated with loads of Indian-style sculptural decor (bulls, snakes that wind around tree trunks in the middle of a pond, the pillars of a Hindu temple under which you can pose for pictures and which also creates a picturesque bridge, a pair of elephants). The plantings are lush and grouped--lots of well-established trees with shrubbery and bushes any Westerner could recognize: hostas, rhododendrons (many in bloom), azaleas (also blooming in late spring), the beginning of vast and abundant rose bushes, irises standing tall in soft shades of mauve and yellow and white). I also saw flowers with which I am unfamiliar--Mary was a valuable resource as she introduced me to primula candleabra, blooming besides a stream that flowed down in tiered cascades. There was a little programmed robot in the shape of a child's car that constantly kept up a mowing motion. This lent the garden much sensuality as almost all five senses were engaged: we could see visual delights all around, smell the scent of freshly-mown grass, hearing the constant twittering of birds in the trees and water flowing down musically, touch the leaves of bushes to examine texture. The only sense left disengaged was taste. Yes, there was a cafe on the grounds but it only sold coffee and cake. We decided to find more substantial sustenance later. Indeed, Sezincote was a delight and a completely different garden experience from Highgrove (yesterday) which was flat and divided into garden 'rooms'. Yesterday, each section came upon us as a gentle and delightful surprize. Here, we could survey most of the acreage from above--there were no separate 'rooms'--the landscape rolled gently around us, one part leaning into the next. Each garden had its own appeal, of course, and there wasn't a single element that was identical.

Lunch and Off to Climb Broadway Tower:

     At this point, after we had gradually made our way up the steep climb back to our car, we were ready for a bite. The Cafe at Broadway Tower seemed like a good bet (our friend Mary had sussed it out yesterday and recommended it highly). We drove for about fifteen minutes (how convenient it is with wheels!) and arrived at the venue but made our way first to the cafe. 

    Lunch in the cafe-cum-gift shop was a wonderful way to sit down and rest our feet a bit. Both Mary and I had the cheese scone with cheddar cheese and chutney with a hot chocolate while Llew had the tomato and red onion quiche which came with a coleslaw, potatoes and a salad and created a whole meal for him (unwittingly). Sam chose tea and cake! With our meal done, we could admire the herd of tame deer that are kept in an enclosure on the estate. We then drove towards the Tower itself as we had braced ourselves, nutritionally, to climb it!  

    Climbing Broadway Tower is another one of the highlights of the Cotswolds and indeed it has much to recommend it. It is a rather elaborate 'folly'--the kind of garden structure that the aristocrats built on their properties to provide shelter should a sudden shower arrive--as is common in England. This structure is much more than the ordinary folly. When George William,  6th Earl of Coventry, set about improving the estate at Croome Court, some 22 miles away, with the help of Lancelot "Capability" Brown, Barbara St. John, Lady Coventry, was enthralled with its tales of fireworks, signals of war and celebration. So the Earl commissioned the "Saxon Tower" as an eternal love token dedicated to her.

    From all the pictures I had seen of the Tower, I had always imagined it to be a bit like the Qutb-Minar in Delhi--a structure with an internal spiral staircase that would lead to lookout balconies and verandahs at each level. Little was I prepared for what I saw here.  This tower contains a whole house. At each level, there is a living room, dining room, bedroom and library-cum-drawing room. For the price of 20 pounds, you get to climb up, see the incredible views (of 13 counties plus the distant towers of Birmingham), a brochure that gives lovey colored pictures of the interior appointment sand external architecture and the ability to tick one more item off your To-Do List! There are no bathrooms in the Tower.  As was common, occupants had chamber pots and wash bowls in their bedrooms. When the artist William Morris came to visit one of the 19th century occupants of the Tower, he had no option but to use the enamel wash tub on the roof--a large chair to be exact. His friend, the painter Edward Burne-Jones jocularly drew several caricatures of him in the awkward position of washing himself! 

    Of course, we took many pictures from way up high to encompass the great height at which we were ourselves. It is a very exciting experience and there aren't too many stairs to climb--less than sixty, perhaps. You also pause at each level to take in the beautifully appointed and recently-redecorated place with its Georgian flourishes. At any rate, this place is a charming delight and is accentuated by the romantic story behind it. On the outside, it looks like a medieval tower with its Rapunzel balconies decorated with motifs from the Middle Ages--but its appeal is indeed timeless.

Off to Broadway:

    As our friends Sam and Mary had chosen to stay in the Northern Cotswolds (to cut an hour from their journey back home to Derby), they'd had the chance last night to suss out the town of Broadway. Mary had been raving about it and called it the "creme de la creme" of the Cotswolds. She insisted we explore it together and that we then call in at their B&B for tea before they dropped us off to our bus stop at Chipping Norton. This made full sense and indeed that was where we headed.

    Broadway is indeed a gem--a gem in a part of the country that is studded with extraordinary gems. As in Burford or in Moreton, the town is designed around a central artery that is lined with shops and other enticing places to tempt the visitor to exclaim and then part with money. There are souvenir shops, of course, but there are also boutiques, delis, cafes, antiques shops, etc. Each of these business establishments is positioned in a lovely old Cotswold stone house or mansion complete with fairy-tale chimneys and ivy draped all over. It is enchanting at every turn and I simply could not stop taking pictures. The whole town (as indeed are all the towns and villages) are strewn with flags and buntings to celebrate the Platinum Jubilee of the Queen (in about ten days) and red, white and blue colors as well as commemorative china in all the windows of the charity shops tempted us inside. Sadly, we had only about 20 minutes to browse before the shops downed their shutters (frustratingly at 4.30 pm), 

    Nevertheless, it was a joy to stroll through the town, to take in the air of festivity and frolic, to make our way to the B&B that Mary and Sam occupied and to sit down with them and their landlady, Pam, to partake of afternoon tea. We loved their living quarters as well as the tastefully decorated lounge and dining room where they had enjoyed enormous breakfasts in the morning before joining us for the day. Pam provided all the fixin's of a good cuppa and over another companionable half hour, we shot the breeze. 

    It was time finally for us to leave so that we could catch the 6.50 pm bus back to Oxford from Chipping Norton. And indeed, catch it we did after saying long and loving goodbyes to our friends. It had been incredibly generous of them to give of their time and resources to come and spend two whole days with us in the Cotswolds where the weather had been perfect and the sights we saw truly memorable. 

Dinner at The Ivy:

    Back on the bus to Oxford, past Woodstock and Blenheim Palace, I told Llew that I wanted to have an Italian dinner at my favorite Italian chain, Carluccio's. But when we arrived in Oxford and went to Little Clarendon Street to find it, it had closed (another sad victim of Covid). That was when we decided to have a really nice slap-up dinner at The Ivy, the lovely posh chain of restaurants in which Llew had never eaten (although I had done--as a few years ago, in London, our friend Bande had taken me there). Llew was not too hungry as his lunch had been substantial...but he did chose to have the salad which was an excellent choice. His Asian Crispy Duck Salad with watermelon and roasted, salted cashews was just unbelievable (I had a little taste). My choices were just as amazing. I had the Gruyere Cheese Souffle for a starter (just decadent!) and the Rabbit and Langoustine Pie for a main--equally grand! I also had a martini while Llew had a glass of Rioja. Neither one of us had any room for dessert! The food was superb but the service was lousy. Anyway, if the idea was to enjoy a nice meal. we did just that.

    We then decided to take a bus from St. Aldate's for the two stops home and indeed that was exactly what we did. It had been another fabulous day with fabulous company and we were really really glad that we have managed to cram so many exciting and appealing aspects into our travels.

    Until tomorrow...cheerio!            

  

Another Bucket List Item Done and Dusted! Visiting Highgrove, Cotswolds Estate of Prince Charles and Camilla

Another Bucket List Item Done and Dusted! Visiting Cirencester, Tetbury and Highgrove, Cotswolds Estate of Prince Charles and Camilla

Oxford

Tuesday, May 24, 2022

    Today was a far cry better than yesterday. We had no transport glitches--well almost none! We did have one crazy experience at the very end (but more on that later). 

    I woke up in our Lake Street Studios at 4.30 am to find that it was very cold (and we had been instructed not to fiddle with the temperature controls) and that the wifi was still not working (it had been out since the time we had returned at 6.00 pm yesterday). I was annoyed as the BT wifi was clearly functioning but our Talk Talk network was not. I waited till 6.00 am and then left a message for the owners of our hotel and about an hour later, the system was up and running again. It is possible that they had switched off the wifi for some reason and then forgotten to turn it on again.

    Llew awoke at about 7.00 am and went in for a shower as he had not packed up last night and needed time to do it. I followed suit and by 8.00 am, we were ready to leave for breakfast. We walked briskly across Hinksey Park on a lovely nippy morning and arrived at our friends' place. Sue had laid out breakfast again--a Continental spread: muesli, yogurt, milk, toast, orange marmalade, blueberries, coffee. We helped ourselves and simultaneously found out about the little housekeeping things we needed to know before our hosts left for Cambridge and we were left to our own devices. Breakfast done, we bid them goodbye as Tony left to pick up their own rented car and we walked back across the park to our hotel. All packed and ready for the arrival of our friends Sam and Mary who were driving down from Derby to meet us, I sat and blogged for a bit while overlooking the lovely little courtyard garden in front of our studio.  

    Sam and Mary arrived on the dot of 10.00 am and after greeting us warmly, piled our stuff into their car. We then drove the few blocks back to Susan and Tony's place so that we could drop off our own cases Gifts were exchanged at this point! In fact, we were all delighted to see each other as we had last met in March of 2020 when we were saying Goodbye at the end of our travels together in Costa Rica. We then piled back into their car and began our drive to the Cotswolds town of Tetbury which is the base for a visit to Highgrove, the country estate of Prince Charles and Camilla.  We had pre-booked tickets for the 1.30 pm garden tour. Both Mary and I were very excited indeed as we had hoped to visit this place for ages. 

    During the drive, having woken up at 4.30 am, I was simply engulfed by sleep and dozed off as Llew chatted with Mary and Sam. The Cotswold countryside flew by outside us. There was green at every turn and it was enchanting. Our plan was to get to Tetbury, have a bite to eat, make it in time for our tour and then have afternoon tea in the tea room on the estate. Excitement mounted. But by the time we arrived in Tetbury and bought a map of the town from the Visitor Center and had just finished visiting another one of the famous Cotswold "wool churches", a major shower drenched us. However, by this time, we had managed to nip into a coffee shop where our friends, who were ravenous, as their last meal had been breakfast at 6.30 am, were ready to eat a Cotswold horse!

Lunch in a Coffee Shop:

    Our lunch was far from light. Huge portions of a bacon, brie and cranberry toasted sandwich followed by a large hot chocolate provided all the fuel we needed for the next few hours. We continued to chat companionably in a very cozy coffee shop before it was time for us to move on to our next spot--Highgrove Estate.

Exploring the Estate and Gardens of Highgrove:

    Charles, Prince of Wales, oldest son of the current Queen (Elizabeth II) of England and heir to the throne, bought Highgrove Estate, forty years ago, from Mark McMillan, son of Great Britain's former Prime Minister Harold McMillan. He saw it as a quiet country estate for his wife (then Princess Diana) and his two young sons, William and Harry. At that time, it was a simple country home--three storeys high in honeyed Cotswold stone with a lovely big pediment, sash windows and a carved door. Surrounding the place were flat farmlands. Charles immediately saw it as his never-ending, on-going project. It would be his life's passion. To tour the gardens today is to gain an insight into the mind of an extraordinary man who would launch into something no heir to the throne had ever done--he would become a gentleman gardener and make the profession respectable!

    We entered the estate, past strict security, and parked our car as instructed. Walking just a few meters forward, we entered the Visitor Reception area. Entry to the estate is strictly by pre-booked tickets only. And it was next to impossible to get them. My friend Mary finally called the place and told them that visitors from Connecticut and Bombay were hoping to get on the tour which was fully booked. The lady she spoke to then told her that she would see what she could do. She then released four tickets on the website and told Mary to jump on them. Mary did just that and we had our tickets! At 30 pounds each, they were not cheap. But the idea very clearly is to restrict entry into the place and, dare I say it, keep it exclusive. Still, you will be surprized how many people attempt to get in. Just past the parking lot, you see wooden elephants in the grounds outside--a rather bizarre touch in the middle of the Cotswolds! 

    We were received at the Reception Area and our names ticked off the list by a very lovely lady who explained the ropes. She told us where and when and how photos could be taken--none whatsoever in the garden as they surround the house. For security reasons, you are not allowed to take pictures. You are also not allowed to wander away from the group and on your own. She warned us that there are hidden security cameras all over the estate and you would be swiftly found and removed from the premises if you strayed. She then turned us over to her colleague, one Patrick, who would be our guide through the gardens for the next 90 minutes. He proved to be a true treasure. Undoubtedly throughly vetted, Llew and I both suspected he was ex-army. He was also beautifully spoken and made an excellent guide.

    It is hard for me to describe the vast gardens at Highgrove. It is also hard for me to imagine that, forty years ago, this was simply weed-ridden wasteland. The miracles of organic gardening were clearly evident before us as we began our tour. So here are some of the aspects that struck me as we walked from one garden 'room' to the next--each aspect being entirely enchanting. 

    Just past the fruit orchard which contains rare English apple cultivars that were in danger of dying out, there are antique wooden gates from Jodhpur, India, that lead you into the garden. These were spied thrown somewhere on the roadside by Charles on a visit to India. He inquired about them, bargained for them, had them shipped to Highgrove and installed them as the main gates of entry into the garden! The Asian-style entry structure is now called the Shand Gate. Mark Shand was Camilla's brother. He had devoted his life to saving elephants in Africa and had brought Charles into his efforts. This explains the strange wooden elephants at the entrance near the Reception area. After his death, Charles decided to name the entry way after him.

    There are wonderful yew hedges all over the gardens--these separate one area from the next. They are elaborately topiaried with urns and globes beautifully carved at the top. There are sun and shade aspects to the garden and each part of it is planted differently. As in the case of the many gardens I have visited on this trip, there is a distinct color palette in evidence: in this case, it is shades of purple--aliums, irises, etc--and Llew observed that this was probably because purple is the royal color. There were hostas in one section, a whole section devoted to rhododendrons and azaleas (at their best right now, at this time of spring), loads of ferns in one area, etc. Charles is not fond of bright, dazzling color in flower beds and so we saw the color red only once--on a bush of rhododendrons. Lots of peonies are also coming into their own at this time. We also walked through large areas devoted to wild flower meadows for which he received help from a female gardener whose name I did not catch who had become passionate about wild flower gardening. Similarly, he received help from Rosemary Verey who also advised him on design and plantings. 

    Patrick made it clear that Charles has spent countless hours in the gardens personally digging and planting and weeding and dead-heading. He is a hands-on gardener, not someone who relies on his army of paid laborers. In fact, both Mary and I were shocked to discover that there is a team of just 10 gardeners for the entire acreage (17 acres) that lay before us. How was that possible? He also explained that they worked in teams: one team handled flowers, one veg and another shrubs and ferns. From time to time, Patrick paused to draw our attention to garden sculpture, many pieces of which were presented to Charles as gifts. There is a sculpture of the Queen Mother (his grandmother, whom he had adored and who had turned him into gardening as she used to be a hands-on gardener herself). Another bust of himself with Camilla also has pride of place in another shady nook. One large doorway recognized the folk who are close to Charles or have had a role to play in the shaping of the gardens. I did recognize one of them as I actually know him--Richard Chartres, retired Bishop of London, who is a very close friend and adviser to Charles. His sculpted bust is a superb likeness of the good prelate.  

    What else? Well, there is so much, it is hard to recall. There are gates and doorways in bright colors that were a tribute to Yves Saint Laurent whose vision had created the Majorelle Gardens in Marrakesh in Morocco (that Llew and I had also visited just a couple of years ago). There are fountains filled with odd sculptural stonework that most people would have rejected as rubbish but which Charles picked up for use in his gardens. There was clematis with flowers the size of dinner plates! Seriously, never in my life have I see flowers of that size. It is too early, of course, for roses, but there are hundreds of bushes everywhere. Tender new plantings are placed under glass cloches (not cloche--bell--shaped but resembling little glass houses). When asked where Charles got them from, Patrick said, "Ebay"! Fancy that! Prince Charles shops on Ebay!!! We saw herb gardens (lots of parsley and thyme) and veg gardens (lots of lettuce). They are used in the restaurants on the estate or sold in the shop. Honestly, there is simply so much we saw that I am finding it hard to remember all of it. Suffice it to say that it was all just fabulous and at every step of the way, we were delighted anew.  Yes, at many spots, we were only a few feet away from the house in which Charles and Camilla could well be at that moment--but who knows if they are in, at any given time, traveling somewhere or in their London home at Clarence House (which I have also toured and which is just as enchanting). Let me just say that the entire experience was amazing and one that fully satisfied.

 In the Gift Shop:

    We ended our tour in the gift shop where Mary purchased a few things. Weight restrictions only made it possible for me to buy the souvenir garden book for five pounds. This will be a cherished memento of a lovely morning spent with friends who made our wandering really special. 

   Afternoon Tea in the Royal Cafe:

    Just as we were leaving the gift shop, the heavens opened again, but we were safely within the Royal Cafe by this time. We were ready for a cream tea--9.95 pounds for a scone with clotted cream and strawberry jam and pots of tea. Llew and I chose decaff (mine with lemon, of course) and our friends had the Prince Charles blend which was probably made by Fortnum and Mason in London. The teas, in fancy Jubilee caddies, were available in the shop. I have never seen such enormous scones, studded with sultanas, I have to say. They were gigantic, delicious and melted in the mouth. Given the very special place we were in, we thought the cream teas were very wisely priced. What a fine pick-me-up that was at the end of a memorable afternoon!

Exploring Tetbury and Cirencester:       

    After tea, all that was left then was to drive to the center of Tetbury to explore the royal town. It is very cute indeed and has a couple of attractions. Aside from the wool church which we had visited in the morning, there was a set of stairs called the Chipping Steps. They are cut into a hill that is flanked on both sides by charming cottages over which abundant roses climbed delightfully. Llew went all the way to the bottom of the steps and the hill and then climbed back up again as the rest of us simply took pictures at this interesting venue. Another ramble around the shops led us into more squeals of delight at the wares available--not to mention a look at a crafts show where the artisans displayed and sold their own work. Yes, it was a lovely visit and we enjoyed it tremendously.

Back to Oxford:

    We had about an hour's run in the car back to Chipping Norton where Sam dropped us off in time to get our bus back to Oxford. They were heading up to North Oxford to the town of Broadway where they had rented a B&B for two nights themselves. I found the items in the thrift shop that I looked at yesterday still available and I resolved to buy them tomorrow when we return to Chipping Norton for our visit up into the Northern Cotswolds. 

    A few minutes later, we went into the Prince of India restaurant, right at the bus stop, opposite the King's Arms Hotel where we had once stayed, and ordered meat samosas and vegetable pakoras to go. These would be our dinner back at home as we were too tired to go and eat out. However, I am keen to eat at Carluccio's at least once before we leave--so perhaps we shall do that tomorrow.

    We had one more misadventure on the bus on the way back. It was in a very narrow lane, close to Charlbury, and our driver was trying to squeeze out of it when he was stopped by a car that was a bit ill parked. The driver had parked too far out and there was simply no room for the bus driver to get through. He got out of the bus, began to honk to get the owner of the car to come and move it and then simply through up his hands in frustration. When, finally, the owner appeared, she was in a thorough fluster. She said that as soon as she switched on her car, her mirrors would pop out on both sides and damage her car and the bus! She was not sure how to resolve the issue. She called her partner, who then appeared and told her to switch the mirrors off before entering the car and then to switch on the engine. Don't even ask me about these technicalities! All I can say is that she was able to move her car up the foot path and we were eventually able to move after about a half hour's delay. There is simply no end to these adventures or these delays!!!

    We did arrive at Oxford and decided to walk along the Thames to Sue and Tony's place. It took us about 20 minutes from the Town Center but it was a lovely evening and we really did enjoy the walk as the Oxford colleges had shut for the night and people were out looking for suitable places in which to eat.

    Back home, we poured ourselves some wine, nibbled on cheese and crackers and pistachio nuts and Llew got our grazing dinner ready as we watched New Tricks on the telly. But I was off on the couch and had to be woken by Llew who served me ice-cream, washed and cleared up as I got ready for bed.

    What a brilliant day we'd had! I would not forget it in a hurry!  

    Until tomorrow...cheerio!                          

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! 

     

Au Revoir London, Hiya Again Oxford: First Day in the City of Dreaming Spires

 Au Revoir London,  Hiya Again Oxford: First Day in the City of Dreaming Spires 

London-Oxford

Sunday, May 22, 2022

    At last the day dawned when we'd be leaving London to return to Oxford to spend a few days roaming through Oxfordshire and re-visiting a part of the Cotswolds that Llew and I had both loved following a wonderful time with Chriselle about twenty years ago. But first, we'd need to get cracking at our pad at Paddington, eat breakfast (bits and bobs of all our leftovers in the fridge), clean house and get going. With a small strolley each and the gifts we had bought for our hosts Susan and Tony, we set off at 8.30 am to begin our journey to Oxford.

Off to Oxford:

    We took the 36 bus from Praed Street to Victoria and hopped into the Oxford Tube on Buckingham Palace Road. We were on the 9.15 coach and hoped to be in Oxford by 10.30--it being a Sunday, the coach flew rapidly through Oxford and we were at the Westfield Shopping Mall at Brent Cross in less than half an hour. We expected to reach very much on schedule, but alas, with a combination of a road accident and road works, we were held up for over 40 minutes on the highway and arrived at the High Street in Oxford only at 11.00 am. We alighted at St. Aldgates and hopped into an X3 local bus for three stops to get to our hotel for two nights--Lake Street Studios that I had booked two weeks ago! And then, guess what? Whom should we meet on the bus but our friend Susan! She heard my voice talking to the driver and inquiring about our stop (3 stops away) and our tickets when she came from the back of the bus, said "Rochelle?" and next thing you know, we were hugging and kissing right there in the bus and I was introducing her to Llew whom she was meeting for the first time!

Settling Into our Oxford Studio:

Susan got off one stop before us (we'd be meeting her at her place for supper at 5.00 pm). Llew and I alighted from the bus, found Lake Street just a few meters away, walked down it to our Studios and met Jan, our hostess, who led us into our lovely room for the next two nights. It is indeed a studio with a living area, bed/sleeping area (there is an ultra-comfortable double bed), a kitchenette that is fully equipped with microwave oven, fridge and all necessary china and silverware. We also have our own little private garden outside that has David Austin pink roses tumbling down a brick wall. What a pretty entry into Oxford!

Taking the Thames Path from Grandpont to Oxford:

After stashing our stuff in our studio which is in the Grandpont part of Oxford, and on taking Jan's advice to reach into Oxford Town Center by the picturesque route, we walked out of our studio at about 12.30 pm and took the little gate to the Oxford Tow Path across the street. We found the gate leading to the Thames and followed the Tow Path towards the City Center. It was a perfectly gorgeous day--blue skies, fluffy white clouds, benign sunshine on our backs, comfortable temperature--we could not have asked for better. The river and its banks were busy with rowers, sailors, hikers, joggers, dog-walkers. Across the river, we spied Magdalen Tower and the route via the Meadows of Christ Church College that leads to the River bank. Believe me when I say that the setting was just idyllic and the perfect entry into Oxford.

Lunch at Westgate Shopping Mall:

    By the time we were done with our hour-long walk, we were in the City Center and feeling distinctly peckish.  We decided it was time to go out in search of lunch and after a quick nip into John Lewis where I finally found the OPI nail polish I was seeking, we arrived at a place called Street Food Social that offered a choice of cuisines--we opted for Benito's Mexican and ordered slow-roasted pork burritos with rice, black beans, sour cream, lettuce, tomato and a Southwestern sauce. This was served with chips, salsa and a drink (Fanta) and it made a  very substantial meal for Llew and me. 

Off to Gloucester Green Bus Station:

    Replete with our Mexican repast, we went out in search of the Gloucester Green Bus Station to find out about purchasing a Stage Coach smart card for travel in the Cotswolds. After a series of inquiries, we were informed that we ought to speak to the driver of the S3 bus tomorrow. He would sell us a smart card that we could then load with a top-up for a week's worth of unlimited travel. We could then pay the additional rider amount to get from one town or village to the next. This would eliminate the need for Llew to drive in the Cotswolds (something that he was rather reluctant to do, in the first place) and it would be far more economical than renting a car, paying for gas, and navigating our way through a tangle of country roads. Hopefully, this alternative will serve us well.  We shall see....we are flexible and have no real plan for the next three days. With trains and buses at our service, we think we might be able to swing it. I resolved to pick up a map of the Cotswolds from the Tourist Information Office on Broad Street. 

Off to the Ashmolean Museum:      

    I dropped Llew off to the entrance of the Ashmolean and put a leaflet containing the 12 highlights of the Museum that I suggested he begin seeing. I nipped off to the Tourist Information Office on Broad Street only to find that it has fallen victim to the pandemic and closed down! An institution in itself, I have used this office for at least 35 years and I simply cannot believe it is no more! The abundance of promotional brochures I have picked up from here, over the years, is staggering. 

    With no choice, I nipped into the Oxfam store next door hoping to pick up the DVD set that I had passed on at my last visit with Amy, two weeks ago--only to find that it had sold out! However, the costume jewelery I had liked was still there and I did go ahead and purchase it. Then, I hurried off to meet Llew back at the Ashmolean. Needless to say, I began taking the Highlights Tour myself and we met at the two paintings that are the most prominent ones in the museum: The Hunt (which demonstrates Paolo di Uccelo's use of the 'vanishing point' in art and Forest Fire by Piero di Cosimo. However,  what really caught my eye and grabbed it on this visit was Anthony van Dyke's portrayal of The Deposition of Christ which is not only deeply moving but also horror-evoking.

We went again through the various highlights together and I even took in the glory of the porcelain gallery--for indeed the Ashmolean has a whole entire gallery devoted exclusively to painted porcelain (my passion!). Of course, I could have spent two whole hours in this gallery, but time was of the essence. We moved on and left the museum (after using the facilities) to arrive at Tesco where we bought decaff coffee and milk for ourselves for tomorrow. 

We then took the bus from St. Aldgates back to our Lake Street Studios where we were left with only enough time to get ourselves dressed and ready for the next item on our agenda--our appointment with Susan and Tony at their place at 5.00 pm.

A Walk and Dinner with Susan and Tony at their Home:

    Susan and Tony are passionate gardeners and have maintained an allotment plot for ages. They suggested we arrive at their place at 5.00 pm so that they could walk with us to their plot to see it. Accordingly, Llew and I walked through lovely Hinksey Park that was full of people, dogs and squealing children as they used the lake, the adjoining swimming pool or simply sat on the green lawns and picnicked. As I said, on a day that cried for being outdoors, folks took full advantage of the benevolence of the weather and basked in it. 

    Five minutes later, we were at our hosts' front doors, were met and greeted and welcomed. Our gifts (from India and Harrod's) changed hands and we settled down briefly. A few minutes later, we began our walk to the allotment (just a few minutes away) where Susan opened the lock and let us it. 

    It is lovely to be in a flourishing allotment and most people look after their's with a passion. During Covid, it provided a way to live outdoors and socialize even if briefly. We were introduced to their friend Katrina and then spent the next half hour walking through a variety of plantings: herbs, flowers, veg. Susan and Tony had a beautiful corner plot that is backed by a climbing rose that is simply stunning as its flowers cascade down from way up high to the ground. We picked some radishes from their plot and decided to take them home to munch on with salt (the French way) with our drinks. Indeed, an allotment provides the biggest rewards of any that one can get directly from the earth and the concept that began with the Victory Garden of war-times in England has escalated into a daily pass time for a number of people. 

    About a half hour later, we were back at Susan and Tony's where we were handed drinks and nibbles (a red wine for Llew, a G & T for me) and pistachios and chips--out on the patio in full sunshine with views past a meadow filled with golden buttercups that melts down to the river. It was truly picturesque and we enjoyed the companionable moments with our kind and hospitable friends who take so much trouble always to entertain us at their home. Indeed, I have always felt that the true test of friendship is people who open their home to you, cook and serve you food they have prepared themselves and, regardless of the time and trouble it will entail, continue to have intimate dinner parties for a few select friends. Kim and Mark did it for us on the Isle of Wight, Elise did that for us yesterday, Susan and Tony did it for us today and Michael and Cynthia had me over at their place for lunch last week and will be hosting us for dinner next week. We are truly blessed in our friends.   

    Drinks done, we moved into the dining area for our meal. Tony, of course, is master of the kitchen and is very ably assisted by Susan. He always serves us the most incredible feasts and this evening was no exception: he presented a stunning creation by Yottam Ottolengthi (whose books I own in Connecticut)--a pie of sorts with a stuffing comprising of a cinnamon pilaf studded with raisins and pine nuts and lemon juice set in a mould lined with sauted slices of aubergine! It was wonderful! To accompany this one-dish meal was a lovely green salad with a piquant dressed (also made by Tony). Susan came into her own at dessert time when she offered us Nigella Lawson's brownies with vanilla ice-cream--delish was not the word! How grand was our meal and how dear are our friends? 

The discussion around the table was equally stimulating--we talked about contemporary friends, our coping over the pandemic, Llew and my future plans with regards to closing shop in the US and starting afresh in Bombay--a prospect we look upon as an exciting adventure with all sorts of possibilities ahead. We made plans to meet tomorrow for breakfast at their place followed by a day that the two of us will spend re-exploring the Cotswolds. Then, we will meet again for dinner at Quod, a fancy Continental restaurant on The High, where we will celebrate Llew's birthday! It promises to be a lovely day tomorrow and we are looking forward to it with gusto.

    Until tomorrow...cheerio!