Cotswolds: lasagne, vodka, cottages

The glass is not always half full in dear old England. Recently we had a three day weekend. Awesome! But it was strange to usually hear the joy of three days off work swiftly followed by, "but that's it for Bank holidays until Christmas now". So to make the most of it, 7 of us headed off to the Cotswolds on Friday night after work for 3 days in a fab little cottage near a small town called Bibury.

Wilton Cottage - in love with that conservatory

When heading West-ish of London, renting a car from Heathrow airport is a smart way of avoiding having to actually negotiate city traffic, so after a sweaty, often-interrupted mission along the Piccadilly after work on Friday night, we ended up at the Sheraton (retro) to pick up a couple of rental cars and hit the road. The great advantage of ending up at an airport terminal to pick up a car is that you sort of feel like you are going 'abroad', just to amp up the holiday feel. The dudes 'managing' (being generous) the car place took at least half an hour to locate the second vehicle but eventually we got on the road, me towing a rather hefty Morzine-inspired lasagne that was very much coming up to room temperature after crossing London.

Joan had the profound foresight to have all our online-ordered groceries delivered to the cottage at 10pm, which was about 10 minutes after we arrived. Perfect timing. Oven on, lasagne and garlic bread in, wines poured, beer flowing, we unloaded and the bags kept arriving through the door. Among other things, 66 eggs, 12 giant flat mushrooms, 64 beers, and a litre of vodka. While we waited for things to cook, Joan made a salad and Nicci and I made up a story about the cottage-owning family, based on the books in their bookshelf. Pretty fun! I challenged myself to read 'Notting Hell' by the time we went home, but failed.

Cotswolds Lasagne

On Saturday I took myself for a walk down country lanes to Bibury, which clearly is in the Japanese guide books of 'how to know you have been on holiday in England'. We had a great French toast/bacon/fried bananas brunch made by Dave and went village hopping, ending up in a town called Eastleach where we went to a village fete and watching some Morris dancers outside a pub. Tombola, 'welly wanging', coconut shies, and guess how much the lamb weighs were some of the main attractions. All very well, but we had avocadoes to make into guacamole, 64 beers and a litre of vodka to drink...so we headed for home after a few hours. Basically, with some great burgers by Joan, a brazier lit by Mark and some sweet music we whiled the evening away. On Sunday morning vodka and soda was declared, upon waking, as the best drink ever, as we did manage to all but finish the bottle between 3 girls, and not a headache to be complained about.

 

Bridge over trouty waters, Bibury

Entertainment while waiting eagerly for 2pm fete kick-off, Eastleach

Turns out wellies catch wind very effectively and are then slowed down considerably

Slight chaos as a gust of freak wind lifts a village fete gazebo
 

Photo not doing justice to outstanding burgers.
Take the kiwis out of NZ and they will still garnish Ottolenghi burger patties with pineapple rings and beetroot

 

On Sunday three of the lads had previously decided to enter a 10km uphill run. We met them afterwards in a town where only a very musty-smelling pub and an antique dealership was open, so with a bit of help from Google we got promptly out of there and headed for lunch at a place called The Inn at Fossebridge. Sunday roasts and pints were had (and spilled) and somehow I convinced everyone we should do the 2mile circuit out the back of the place to digest our lunches. Probably the most stinging-nettled, entertainingly average stroll. Also should have had on chinos and a shirt with loafers/Hunter boots, not stockings and £6 Primark flats.

Roast pork, crackling, duck-fat potatoes, gravy and Yorkshire pudding.
Yes, August is still summer.

Striding out through the stinging nettles

Walking off lunch

Post box in the country side

Back at the cottage later that evening, Nicci's teacups purchased at the Eastleach White Elephant stall needed christening, there was somehow still some beers to drink, chicken had been marinating and the patio next to the apple orchard was basking in the sun. We lit the brazier when it got dark and sometime around midnight came inside for Chicken Marbella, couscous, salad and garlic bread. Washed down with whatever we had left at this stage.  

Enjoying the sun with an aperitif and cards

 

Gin in teacups

We managed to get out of the cottage and leave it as we found it only about 45 minutes later than the check out time. Probably slightly motivated by the fact that loo roll had run out (the one thing to go on next time's shopping list). Bourton-on-the-Water was chosen as the destination for the morning and Dave's declaration when we parked the car that it "seems pretty carnie" was about 100% correct. The tour buses were a giveaway and 'Venice of the Cotswolds', while probably lovely on a quieter day, had us desperately wanting to escape the crowds in under half of our parking ticket time. We couldn't even find a pub to shelter from the walking frames and children in. The silver lining was discovering the rather more delightful (aka tiny, 27-house-sized) hamlet of Notgrove, which was having a fete. Much more suited to the mood. While slightly steep at £2 entry, this was a well organised and original fete, set in beautiful surroundings in an old Manor. There was a dog show, chuck-the-block-at-crockery, milkshake/Krispy Kreme stand (city influence!) and my favourite, the 'produce show'.

Children in the river at Bourton-on-the-Water

Flower competition in the chapel at the Notgrove Manor house fete

It was really hot at the nearby pub that we went to for lunch on the way home to London. Long may the mid-20s sunny days continue.