After a very slow, very fast train through France and the chunnel (we read in the newspaper today that the lines had been sabotaged) we finally arrived at St. Pancras. I had a very disappointed husband as he had specifically wanted to travel by TGV and Eurostar at high speed but we received excellent service among the chaos of hundreds of travellers arriving late for connections and train times changed - our own ticket was changed three times!
As we were several hours late it was already almost dark before we boarded the train for Moreton-in-Marsh. I was very uncertain about John’s choice of seat as it was beside a group of Arsenal supporters who had just come from a game their team played against Manchester United and were now loudly dissecting the match blow by blow. Opposite was a friendly young student.
The trip was great, the lads chatty, sharing their chips with us and playing memory games. They invited us to join them at Evesham that night at “The Railway” to continue their celebrations but we alighted at Moreton just before it began pelting with rain. We hauled our bags into “The Bell”, it was warm with the fire blazing and we sat down for some sausages and mash as the downpour continued. We were ‘home’.
Calling a taxi to take us to Blockley, we continued along country lanes and finally arrived at our destination - Silk Cottage. What a treat! It didn’t matter that the night was dark and wet as the cottage was warm, Guy Fawkes fireworks were being set off and we went to sleep with the sound of the rushing mill stream outside our window.
The cottage is on three levels - you open the door into the kitchen, a bathroom is tucked in behind, then climb very steep steps up to the lounge room on the second level and continue climbing to the bedroom at the top. All the rooms are low with dark beams, leaded windows and hefty wooden floors. Each level would only be a maximum of 4 metres square - but actually they are not square!
We awoke to grey skies and set off for church - the bells calling. How wonderful to be at the service - the familiar hymns, the lovely accents, the ancient walls - all seemed unchanged and it was a delight to be part of it again. This village is one of dreams, quintessentially English, the type of place that wars are fought to protect and soldiers long for. It was Remembrance Sunday and after the service we joined the congregation as they walked to the War Memorial where others were gathering for the service.
It was grey, overcast and drizzly - perfect English weather, and after a pub lunch at the “Great Western” we went for our first walk. We were so pleased to see autumn was not as advanced as we were expecting so the colours were stunning and of course the views had us halting every few steps to take it all in.
The next morning we walked up through the churchyard to the village store only to find police there and the area fenced off. Most of a huge black poplar tree had fallen and all the children from the nursery school were being evacuated and the shop closed as the remaining section was deemed to be dangerous - rightly so.
The little community store is our only source of provisions, papers and the internet so as an alternative we had to find a bus to take us elsewhere. Chipping Camden is the closest village so after locating the correct bus stop, we waited and boarded. After passing through three other villages and past the “Chipping Camden” sign - twice, I went to the bus driver to tell him we were on the wrong bus. No, it was the correct bus and we would get to the village eventually. It was a beautiful circuitous route and as we were in no hurry, very enjoyable.
We returned the same way in the rain and dark - the buses run very infrequently but thankfully they do make their way through the sodden landscape. The next morning I found out that the tree will be safely removed on Thursday - the crane needs to come from Cardiff.
Since then we have had two dry days so were able to do some more walking along lanes, public footpaths and bridleways. Today we walked back to Moreton-in-Marsh through the most glorious countryside, it is such a delight to be able to step out. Spring is my absolute favourite season in England as the laneways burst forth with lush new growth but Autumn is starting to run a close second with the breathtaking colours surrounding us.
This area is so damp and I realised that anywhere one is walking in the village there is the sound of rushing water. Many silk mills operated here years ago which have now been converted to private homes but the streams run through gardens and under buildings. Often there is the sound of ducks quacking and when peeping through hedges or over fences you can see them having a marvellous time in the water.
We’re having the best time but it is passing quite quickly which is fine because it means we’ll be back with our dear family, but we’ll miss the freedom of travel, the spontaneity of our journey and the lack of responsibility. It is quite a privilege to travel, to experience other cultures and to learn of oneself … one for which we are very thankful.
