Seven Years

Monday was our anniversary, and while it was tempting to remain holed up in the B&B, we decided it was time to venture forth. Over the weekend we had realized that while the full English breakfast was wonderfully filling, it didn’t quite last all the way until the next breakfast. Between our stomachs, the compulsion to do something to celebrate our anniversary, and the rumors of enchanting villages from a bygone era, we found the courage to “hire” a car, to use the local vernacular, and then drive it, ourselves. Well, Darren drove, but I helped by shrieking in terror regularly. I'm sure that made our anniversary extra special for him. After our limited experience of watching drivers in the English countryside, we were suitably terrified. The rental place had no difficulty convincing us to purchase the extra insurance, and Grant got buckled in extra carefully.

With the help of Google and a touring map from our B&B, I navigated us along the scenic route, Darren drove, Grant napped, and we made it to our destination of Chipping Campden with no major damage, other than fried nerves. We may not have fully appreciated the bucolic charm of the picturesque villages through which we passed, but it was certainly an adventure not to be forgotten!

According to the guide books, the Cotswolds grew quite wealthy around the 16th century by producing wool. There are still lots of sheep. They built beautiful and sturdy buildings out of the local limestone, including lots of fabulous churches. Even the tiniest villages sported large, elaborate churches, which are known as "wool" churches. The area eventually fell into a recession, which lasted a couple hundred years, during which virtually no development happened. Now it has some sort of protected status, and it feels like stepping back in time hundreds of years...  if you can pretend the cars are horses.

In deference to the anxiety produced by those quaint country roads, we opted to continue our explorations by foot. But walking deserves a post of its own, so more on that later. The highlight of the day for me was probably our afternoon tea. I’d been looking for a good place for this everywhere we went, but the timing was tricky. Afternoon tea is served between 3 and 6, and Grant was napping from 3 until 5 typically. Also, Darren wasn’t spending the afternoon sampling every local delicacy, and for some reason he wanted dinner when he was done with work. So unreasonable. Anyway, this ended up being the only day I got to experience afternoon tea. Because Grant had been in the backpack or carseat all day up to this point, he really wanted to get down and move around. The thought of putting him in one of the dainty little tea shops I had been seeing sounded much more expensive, and much less relaxing than I had been hoping for. Some aspects of travel are truly not improved by experiencing them with a baby. I know, shocking. But we found a little hotel with an empty looking restaurant. Not really a good sign when looking for tasty treats, but it worked for us. They so very kindly put us in a sitting room all by ourselves, which Grant loved, and Darren and I got to pretend that we were English aristocracy being served tea in our own sitting room with a fireplace!