Good news! I’m not going to use “quaint and picturesque” not even once today. Our tour of the Cotswolds hit all the Rick Steves recommended villages and then some in our seven-hour jaunt with Nick, our guide. And while the Cotswolds region is indeed spectacularly beautiful, any hint of quaintness and picturesqueness is overpowered by the number of tourists that beauty, and Rick Steves, attracts.
Nick was actually our second guide today. Guy started out with us but his car developed a strange ticking sound so he called his boss, Nick, who took over. “Fourteen minutes from dressing gown to Broadway,” he boasted. Guy is doing a fellowship in law at Kings College and is going to sit for the Massachusetts bar in September, not so that he can practice but so that he can instruct the large number of US students he teaches who will want to practice back home.
Nick grew up in one of the villages we visited, ran a family antique store until the market dried up, and has been doing tourism for the past 10 years. Both guides were knowledgable and friendly. Nick had to stop his car every now and then because the warning light kept coming on. But nonetheless we made it without incident.
I wish I had the time to label today’s pictures with village names, but I don’t and really the important thing for us and you, gentle reader, is to get a feel for what The Cotswolds is all about. I can tell you that we visited: the Stanway Manor House; Stanton, our favorite village; Broadway, the largest town in The Cotswolds; Stow-on-the-Wold; Bourton-on-the-Water; Little Barrington; Buford; Taynton; several Rissingtons (there are four, I think); Lower Slaughter; Upper Slaughter.
Stanton was special because the folks we talked with at dinner last night had urged us not to miss Stanton, and they were right. It was borderline Q&P – Judy calls it idyllic and thinks I’m being too critical of the Cotswolds in general – and had the fewest tourists of any villages we visited and had no stores. Then, as we walked up to the Parrish church, Pam, one of the ladies from last night, walked up to us with her dog and took us into the church. She knew a lot more than Guy – she’s a genuine Church Lady. Her late husband wrote a brief history of Stanton. She showed us, for instance, a pew post where, over the centuries, partitioners had tied their dogs, wearing a ring in the post. Turns out the other couple from last night had seen us walking down the street and had alerted Pam.
Buford had the distinction of being the home to Manfred Schotten’s antique sporting goods shop. In the cellar of his shop is a crypt where worshipers used to gather when their brand of religion was prohibited by Cromwell. That would make them Catholic-leaning Royalists, but don’t quote me on that. Manfred is also Nick’s golfing partner. Buford is also home to Jeremy Clarkson’s pub. He’s the farmer guy on the BBC/Netflix show.
We saw a farm where jumping horses are raised and a meadow full of sheep, destined for the dinner table, not the woolen mill. The wool business disappeared when cotton was discovered.
It turns out The Cotswolds is a retreat for wealthy Britons, many of whom have a second home here, valued in the millions, with a primary home in London or elsewhere. One estate owner is Wendy, of the burger empire. Old manor houses may be renovated to modern standards inside as long as the exterior is unmodified. New construction is required to use stones from the quarry located at the top of the Cotswolds. Other village houses are converted to BnB units. Where the thousands of workers staffing the shops and restaurants that line the streets of each village live is unknown.
Bottom line, for me, is that The Cotswolds is like California: it would be a great place if it wasn’t for all the people.
Dinner again at our Snowshill pub. Then we’re off to the Cornwall district in the extreme southwest corner of the British isle in search of Burrills and Libbys. We’ll also visit Plymouth where the Mayflower sailed in 1620, and also from whence John Libby’s Hercules departed in 1636.
