Stratford to Chipping Campden: 16/4/23

Another full English breakfast, which turned out to be rather too much on top of the fish and chips last night. Then off from the muddy parking lot at the back of the guest house and away in the direction of Chipping Camden -- which I had never heard of before, but which seems to be a major hub for Cotswolds exploraration, as well as a busy town. I drove first to the Greenway, which you can park for access to the Cotswolds Way, and walked from there, over a historic bridge, most of the way back to Stratford. 

The bridge was there to carry a railway, now disused and pulled up, and at the other end of my walk, beyond the car park, there was a nice little cafe in a couple of train carriages, where I had a coffee. Lots of locals walking and cycling on this stretch, many of them with dogs. Got back to the car to find I had lost the tightening screw for my hiking pole; so unless I can find it or buy a replacement, I will have to buy a second-hand walking stick.

Then to Hidcote, an extensive formal garden where I was able to wander for a couple of hours. There were newts in the pond, and a smallish house -- by Victorian standards -- with a couple of rooms open to commemorate the American owners who laid out the grounds. There's also a second-hand bookshop -- the English do love their bookshops -- and I was tempted by a book about forensic pathology written in the 1930s, but decided not to encumber myself.

There is a stream and an ornamental pond, where for the second time in my life I saw newts swimming about outside captivity. I hadn't realised before how much they vary in size, but of course like frogs (there was one of those there too) they grow from tadpoles.

There was another garden nearby, but it didn't open till two, so I kept going down to Mickleton. That looked like a nice little town, so I stopped and had a stroll around, then drove on to Chipping Campden, where I have two nights booked, as they apparently couldn't find nearer accommodation for the next stage. I called in at the Bantam Tearooms, and a nice young lady called Alice showed me to my room -- upstairs and around corners -- and more importantly told me where to park, which involved taking a detour back to the end of the village and down a winding one-lane road. But I found it in the end.

I'm not quite the only guest -- I can hear noises -- but the tearoom shuts at five-thirty, so it's pretty quiet back here now. The room is big enough, just, to fit all I need, with a table for the laptop and some drawers. And the floor slopes and bumps about, so I have to make sure I am standing upright to go anywhere. The lights are a bit dim. But it's much, much better than the room at Stratford.

Chipping Campden itself is an impressive place, with a long double row of buildings in the same yellow Cotswold sandstone. They look as if they were all built at once, but they range from the 1500s to Victorian times, and some of the older ones have that bendy, wobbly look, with leaning walls. Lots of thatched roofs here.

Once I had showered and settled in, I took a walk up to Dover Hill, which provides a phenomenal view over the north-western Cotswolds. Still cloudy and grey, and it came on to drizzle on the way back. I went up the road, but tried the footpaths on the way back; they were still way too damp to be really viable.

Dinner was cracker biscuits bought from the Co-op supermarket here, with cheese, tomato and cucumber left over from Coventry. And I bought a can of Toast beer, which claims that it is made from surplus bread, including rye bread. It wasn't bad at all, but I am not sure about the economics of it.

And so to bed, still feeling sandblasted about the face and neck.