Easenhall to Coventry: 12/4/23

 As the only guest in the hotel at Easenhall, I took pride of place at breakfast, sitting in a church pew from 1672 in a pub built 400 years ago. My charming hostess served up yet another full English, but with only one egg and some rather suspicious bacon. As always, there was a continental bar with cereals, yogurt and toast to top up with. And I was right to be suspicious -- the bacon returned, bit by bit, during my walk, and had to be disposed of. They say the heart has reasons that the reason knows nothing of; and the same is true of the stomach.

The weather forecast for the morning was cold but sunny, so I decided to try and walk at least part of the way to Coventry -- not on the muddy canal path, but on back roads. These were generally very pleasant walking, and quite scenic, although a little busier than I had expected. It was chilly to start with, even though I had on a t-shirt, shirt, fleece waistcoat, jacket and raincoat, but it soon warmed up, and by 10am I was able to unzip the raincoat.

The first leg was about 3k to to Brinklow, where I picked up on the bus route, and the second about 4k from Brinklow to Coombe Abbey  parklands, where my knee told me it was time to catch a bus. I limped up the drive for a glimpse of the Abbey itself, which is now a hotel, then back to the gates and an unmarked bus stop in good time for the 85 to Coventry. 

That was a tour in itself, since we went to the hospital and the university first, but I was in no hurry, and in an hour or so we finally arrived at the bus station. I remembered that Glenda and I had been here on our previous trip, and that since there were no luggage lockers, we had each sat in a cafe with our accumulated luggage for an hour while the other went to view Coventry Cathedral. The cafe is still there, and I was tempted to ask the proprietor if he was the same person, and whether he remembered, but I decided it would all take too long to explain.

Directly in front of the bus station is the Transport Museum, which I decided to investigate. Broadly similar to the motor museum near Banbury, but with a wider range of cars, many more bicycles -- which was the town's first big industry -- and some attempt at a historical narrative thread moving through the galleries, with references to prominent industrialists, wartime bombing, and the subsequent collapse of the car industry. But the emphasis was mainly on the vehicles, some of which had direct connections to Coventry history, like the bus in which the Coventry soccer team toured the city when they won the FA Cup.

I returned to the ground floor in a goods lift, which was a new experience for me -- no walls, and you have to keep the Down button pressed till you get there. With time to spare before check-in, I strolled through the town, had a look at the library, and had a quick Vietnamese lunch at a little restaurant in one of the arcades. By the time I came out, freezing rain had set in, and I hurried across the plaza looking for the Premier Inn Hotel, which showed up on my map but wasn't apparent in real life. Eventually I found it with the aid of a passer-by, and located the discreet little side door which is the only entrance. My bag was there (in fact I think I passed a taxi on the way to collect it this morning), so I checked in and went up to my room on the third floor. 

It's fairly standard, quite large and reasonably quiet, with a bath and a window looking out on the Salvation Army headquarters. Unlike some of the guest house rooms, it's heated all the time, and it seems like a nice place to spend three nights. I popped out briefly at six for provisions and found the big Iceland supermarket nearby was already closed. What kind of supermarket closes at six? But luckily there was a Tesco's not far away. I have supplemented the hotel supplies with my own milk, so I don't have to keep ducking down for sachets, and some Horlicks to dilute the otherwise constant stream of teas and coffees. Some places have provided hot chocolate, but this is not one of them. And they have the same mean streak as Rugby with regard to internet access; you can get a slow, half-baked connection for free, but you have to pay for high speeds. Such a petty thing; I can't imagine that the money to be made from it is worth the cost of alienating customers.

My plans are to look at the art gallery/museum and the cathedral tomorrow, and take a train to Birmingham on Friday. The weather does seem to be improving.