Broadway Produce Shop at Morning's Break

I awoke early Monday (6:30?) and showered. Went for a walk up High Street. It was cloudy. Walked up Church Street a way. Only refuse workers up. Headed back towards Village Centre. The road ended behind some stores/B&Bs. Saw a sign for a public foot path. Went through gates and followed path behind tall wooded fence. Cherry tree along the way. Went through another gate that opened to High Street. Saw first person, gentleman leaving house to walk dog. Walked up High Street and saw a sign no the right for the Centennial Garden (?). Took path through a small garden area. Saw another sign pointing to an “Activities Area” so I continued on that path which led to an open fields. Horses were fenced in on the right with the play area to the left. Took pics of cool execise and play areas. Came back to High Street and walked until houses ended. Took pics of quaint houses along the way but clouds not cooperating. Heading back down, the sun began to break. Started seeing a couple people on there way to work. Took more pics as sun’s rays began to splash on stone and ivy and flower beds.

Early Morning Commute in Broadway

Sun lit up a produce shop that just opened. Took some pics and then heard the clop of horse’s hooves. Spotted gentleman dressed to the hilt in gray riding suit. Manuevered to get a shot. Not enough time. Went back to Abbots Grange and took more pics of the grounds. Went inside. Cindi was showered so we went down for breakfast. Sat and chatted with a nice couple from Israel. Ate, got bags in car, forgot apple and water Fay had left in the entryway.

We drove to Moreton on the Marsh and on to Castleton House. Signs in the grassy parking area at Castleton House said it was closed and not to drive down the road to it. We walked down the road a bit and decided to drive down anyway because there was no one around and no road signs mentioned restricted access. I parked the car on a narrow grassy patch in front of the house and took a few pics. The road did not appear to end so we continued forward. I took a pic of a perfect, thatched roof cottage as we exited. The SatNav was agreeable for a change and led us to Stow on the Wold. We parked the car, paid and displayed and I rifled through my pockets for 20p so I could pee. As I was reading the instructions at the public loo, a man exited a stall and offered it to another person so to saw them a few pence. It turns out that the stalls are not locked. In this scenario, you basically pay not to display. The 20p allows you to lock the door. We walked up a street up to the village square. Thirsty, we stopped at a pub for a coke. There was a nice courtyard out back with a coy pond so we sat down at a table with an umbrella. Temps were moderate but it was windy. One of the patrons lowered umbrellas at empty tables so they wouldn’t fly away. Skys were clear and we heard the first aircraft since we left Heathrow. Talked about trains vs. planes and recalled same lack of airplane noise during the 1st week of 911. A couple in an upper terrace left, pulling on the leash of a pup intently eyeing the coy. We soon followed and headed across the square and window shopped. A stone wall between the shops offered a view of bright flowers and landscaped lawns behind a church so we walked over to check it out.

Cedar framed Church Door at Stow on the Wold

We entered through a back walkway, passing a really neat wooden door flanked by two ancient cedars that seemed to have grown into and become one with the stone walls. We walked around, entered the front found a plaque welcoming the friends to St. Edwards Church Stow-on-the-Wold. It was 800 years old, simply adorned and worthy of a few pics. As we left the church, we noticed a huge oil painting on the front wall. We almost missed it in the dim light. There was a sign saying there was a flood light switch somewhere on the south (?) wall but I couldn’t find it. We wandered through a few more streets encircling the village. There were some pretty painted doorways framed with brightly colored flowers. A Fushia painted shop called Greedy’s grabbed our attention. It was an original Fish and Chips shop with signs promoting their Hot Pukka-Pies. We made our way back to the car and picked Bourton on the Water from the favorites saved on the SatNav. We meandered down through the rolling hills entered the village, a single stretch of wide park areas along the banks of stone lined stream. Several stone bridges provided access to the other side where the shops were.

Watching the Ducks at Stow-On-The-Wold

We declined a visit to Birdland, the local attraction and took in the free sights of ducks quacking and paddling under over reaching limbs of willows. Other ducks gathered around groups of people throwing pieces of bread into the water. We walked up one side and back the other. Cindi was getting hungry so we stopped at a stand selling food. There were a number of undefined patries in the glass case at the sales counter. Cindi pointed to one and asked what it was. The proprietor said something like “Pastry”but with a short “a”. He described a filling much like a pot pie so she got one. He asked her if she wanted it warm or cold. Undecided, he suggested warmed. Later, we learned it was a Pasty and they were popular down there. We had finished our walk. It was a pretty setting but having seen all there was to see, we proceeded to our next destination. It was getting late so we abandoned a Michelin driving tour and went to Bibury.

The Stream Entering Bibury

Bibury was one of the most picturesque villages of the trip. Like Bourton on the Water, it lay in the low lands along side of a river. A stone bridge led to a pond surrounded by a large variety of flowering plants, shrubs and trees. Huge fronds of ornamental rubarb(?), clusters of day lilys, cedars, levendar, petunias, hostas, begonias and hundreds of other annuals and perennials provided a backdrop of endless colors and textures. Wooden bridges over waterfalls and around the perimeter of the pond, welcomed pedestrians to enter and enjoy the surrroundings.

Fresh Trout from the Bibury Trout Farm

The Bibury Trout Farm was its claim to fame and was proudly chistled into a large curved slab of limestone as you entered. We pulled into a small gravel parking lot and we pleased that it was beyond pay and display hours so we didn’t have to rifle through our pockets for the proper loose change. Cindi had to go to the bathroom and asked someone at an ice cream stand. I proceeded to the shop next door and browsed around. The shop was divided into two sections; trout and gifts. I glanced in to the trout section and saw perfectly arranged rows of fresh trout on ice. The colors were so vibrant, I had to take a few frames on the Canon. One the gift shop side, I found a number of unique and local items. Cindi walked in a few minutes afterwards with an ice cream in hand. She said that she had to buy something in order to use the bathroom. I made my final selections feeling comforted that I wouldn’t be making hasty, last minute purchases of crap at the airport. Since I had also paid for the bathroom, I made a visit before we went back to the car. Just as we crossed the street to the parking lot, a large, brightly painted, 60’s vintage tour bus pulled into the lot parallel to the road so as to block several cars including ours from leaving. I was at the tail end of the bus so it looked like there might be enough room to squeeze by. I eye-balled the angles and played a lightly clutched, three-point, reverse turn in my head to get out. I started the car and before I could get it into gear, another full-sized tour bus pulled in and partially blocked the car next to us. There was a slot between the busses but little room was remaining for error if I was to execute my exit maneuver. As I looked over my right shoulder I saw a couple step up to the car next to us with quizzical looks on their faces. Our eyes made contact and shrugged my shoulders. The driver of the vintage bus must have realized what was going on because he pulled up a couple feet of space to get out. The other couple had started their car so I motioned to them that I would pull out first so they would have enough space for their own three-point reverse exit. The driver acknowledged the strategy and soon we we all on our way.

A large Pot at Laycock Abby on the Potter Tour

Laycock Abby was next on the tour list. We arrived as light was fading. The woman at the ticket counter ran down a short list of all the areas that were closed for the day. As it turned out, only the gift shop and the cloisters were open. Since we were already there and some footage had been filmed there for Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone, we decided to pay for entry. The cloisters were similar to most we had seen but one room contained a large, black, 3-legged iron pot. There was sign on an easle with pictures of Harry, Ron Hermione so I took a few pics. The last stop for the day was Great Chalfield Manor. We arrived at about 5:30 PM. and parked on a grassy area across the road because of “Private” signs. The owners gave regular tours fo the manor so it wasn’t clear what the protocols were. Tried the front door and knocked, no answer. Walked into courtyard looking for someone. Finally met Patsy. Robert on phone in office with fold out bed. Ming (liked petting) and Molly (shy, barked). Patsy walked us up to room one way and back down another.

Great Chalfield Manor from the Rear

The place was huge and seemed like a maze. I worried that I would not find my way back. Got bags in room. Patsy said to meet down in the sitting room for some drinks. The room was, well, functional. Unlike the completely refurbished room of Abbots Grange, little was done to the room to preserve its historical nature. Odd white tile in bath with red grout, old fixtures. Clean but old and retrofitted. Went down to sitting room. Reminded me of a 70’s living room. It looked as if it was used by owners regularly. Patsy poked her head in and said she would be back with drinks and hors d’ oeuvres. She came back with Salmon on bread (good) and white wine. Talked about her past, Irish, photography, professional horse portraits. She took the only known portrait of Secretariat. Made sitch to digital photos 4 years ago. Loves the Mac. Robert joined us. Typical old English. Most of the conversation revolved around him. Nice guy though. Very pleasant. Neither were as stuffy as I feared. Retired to bed. I went back down to try some night shots. Too dark. Went back to room. Read out load for a while from eclectic mix of books. No TV or radio. Drifted off to sleep.