About a month after i arrived back in London, Tony and I had our first weekend break away, catching the train after work on Friday to Kemble in the Cotswolds for a couple of nights' stay at the Swan Hotel in Bibury.
William Morris apparently described Bibury as the most beautiful village in all of England - (did you know that already mum?!) - and I think we'd have to agree with him. The Swan is situated at a bend in the road, looking out over a small river/stream and trout hatchery, with Arlington Row (the picturesque setting of films such as Stardust) set back across a paddock to the left.
The Swan's an old warreny coach house complete with plenty of exposed, polished wood and plenty more pictures and photos of swans lining the walls. Very thin walls as it turned out - listening to some other couple arguing at six on a Saturday morning is not quite what I had in mind for a romantic weekend away but c'est la vie! It also had a lovely chilled out bar area and a small restaurant that served up enormous breakfasts and delicious three course dinners.
We're off to the Lake District in three short weeks so the weekend was a perfect opportunity to wear in my brand spanking new, ugly as hell, walking boots. Ugly as they are, it has to be said that my affection for the boots grew exponentially as we made our way from Bibury to Coln St Aldwyns and back and my feet not only stayed dry and warm, but my ankles didn't even hint at rolling over as we ambled across freshly tilled paddocks, besides meandering streams and through woodlands over the course of the afternoon. We stopped at a bar in Coln St Aldwyns for a break, a drink and the Weekend Times jumbo crossword, before checking out the Norman church in the village and turning around to return.
The cameras were in constant use along the way, slowing us down to a pace that not even I could moan about. There was a pair of picture perfect swans gliding along a river beside us, plenty of dappled light and views from the wooded hills and large clumps of daffodils catching the late afternoon rays. At one point we even heard the bugle of a fox hunt and shortly after we spotted the hounds and a red-coated rider on a white horse tearing across the opposite hillside. Talk about your stereotypical English country scene!
On Sunday we had a fair few hours to kill between checking out and catching the train back to London so we decided to seek out the mythical source of the Thames. I have never come across a place less deserving of mythical status - there isn't even a hint of water at the site because it's supposedly all happening underground! Nonetheless, being the ever dutiful girlfriend, I played paparazzi for Tony at the stone plaque and lone tree before we went in search of... something to write home about...
We eventually found the startings of a stream a few hundred metres away, once we'd passed through a couple of fields and crossed a busy (for the Cotswolds) country road. Tony's hopes of straddling the Thames were effectively dashed by the wet weather leading up to our trip, which rendered the ground either side of the stream completely waterlogged. He did manage to find a spot with a small island in the middle of the flowing water though and with the grace and agility of a ninja, he bounded across and back again. Thankfully I managed to capture his antics on video for posterity.
We had made plans to do a long circular walk to the train station in time for our train, but when we came across a lovely pub with a garden bar in Ewen, those plans went out the window and instead we spent the afternoon reading the papers, eating pub grub and whiling away the hours till we had to catch a taxi to start the journey back to London.
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