I’ve taken the train to Bath so many times it’s second nature. I know that trains leave Paddington Station every 30 minutes, so any time you happen to get to the station you are almost guaranteed a train within the half hour. For that reason, I don’t even really need to check a timetable before going.
No, this doesn’t turn into a story about how I was surprised to find the schedules had changed, and there were no trains for hours, etc. etc. But I’ll admit I was a little bit nervous about such a contingency, since the Hertz office where we were to collect our car in Bath closed at 1 p.m., and any untoward delays on the train could leave us without a car. Actually, I thought they closed at noon, so the pressure was even greater. So we rushed to eat an early breakfast and called for a taxi to collect us at 8:30 a.m. (originally meant to be 8:45, but I moved it up). Traffic was light early on Saturday morning, and we were deposited at Paddington by about 8:45.
“Hurry up,” I told my parents—“I think there might be a 9:00 train to Bath.” There are a number of people who may remember past instances of being rushed through Paddington Station by me to catch the next train to Bath. I really can’t fathom waiting for a later train if there’s an earlier one to jump onto. Often in the past it has also seemed that the platforms are not posted on the departures board until the very last minute, so no matter how early you get to the station, you find yourself running for the train when the platform number finally flashes onto the board.
This time however, everything went uncharacteristically smoothly. When I checked the board at 8:45, it already showed the train to Bristol (calling at Bath Spa) was leaving from Platform 6. Platform 6 was right in front of us, and the train was already in the station. So we easily rolled our luggage to the platform and climbed into our carriage. Not a bit of frenzy needed.
Collecting our car in Bath went equally smoothly. For the first time ever, I was clever enough to get a taxi to drive up to the platform to collect our luggage, instead of hauling it through the station and down a flight of stairs to the taxi stand. By 11 a.m. we had our car—a Volkswagon Jetta, diesel—and were on the road to the Cotswolds. My mother, who has in the past insisted on riding in the back seat, took a leap of courage and moved up to the front seat, and she seemed to tolerate the ride with less shrieking and criticism than I generally hear in the U.S. She also agreed to be map reader, which is a bit of a chore with me because I have a tendency to snap at the navigator if they are not quick enough with the maps. (Occasionally I have to pull over and grab the map to look at it myself.)
We made it through Bath without incident, and that included driving through the narrow, walled streets of the city centre. (I am quite proud of my ability to navigate through Bath. But we’ll see if I feel the same way when we are back in Bath to stay for a few days.)
One of the nice things about driving in the English countryside is that if you miss the road to your destination, there will probably soon be another one going to the same place. And then probably another one after that. England is a web of roads, from the giant motorway (which I stay off of as much as possible—it’s no fun), to the A roads (similar to our state highways, sometimes two-lane, sometimes four-lane), the B roads (more secondary than the A roads, but a good mode of transportation), and finally, the narrow, un-numbered roads that criss-cross the countryside, connecting the villages and other roads in a crazy-quilt patchwork of lanes and byways. Often these are one-track roads, only wide enough for a single vehicle to pass, but luckily strewn with numerous turnouts to accommodate the rare occasion of oncoming cars (or tractors, or lorries, or occasionally, misguided tour buses).
So, while I generally choose A and B roads for primary, point to point travel (particularly if I’m going a longer distance), the one-track roads are there to bail me out of a missed turn and to amuse me during more leisurely outings.
During the trip from Bath to Chipping Campden we only had to deviate from our chosen route twice due to missed turns. Each time the alternate route took us down scenic byways that eventually led us back to our proper destination and only added to the enjoyment of the drive.
Our first stop en route to Chipping Campden was a short visit to Castle Coombe, a small village not too far from Bath that has been called "the prettiest village in England" (although there are a lot of villages that claim that title), and which happens to be a favorite of my father.
It really is a tiny village, with only one main street, although it does have all the village necessities—a church (with cemetery), an art gallery for tourists to buy expensive but lovely mementos of their visit, two country house hotels (one at either end of town), a couple of pubs, a tearoom, and (most importantly for visitors) a public restroom. We spent some time strolling the pretty street and taking pictures (which are undoubtedly very similar to all the pictures taken in the past!). We also purchased a few goodies at the church bake sale.
As I said before, there are always several ways to get to any destination in England, and I had struggled earlier which route to choose to get to Chipping Campden. Would it be the road through Cheltenham, Nailsworth, and Stroud (familiar from our 2001 stay in Bisley)? Would it be the alternate route through Cirencester and up to Stow-on-the-Wold? From Castle Coombs, I decided it would be best to go up to Malmesbury and then by way of Cirencester and Stow-on-the-Wold. Conveniently, we could also stop at the Tesco superstore in Stow to pick up a few groceries.
Cirencester is a famous Roman town which reputedly has a lot to offer visitors. I see it as a nightmare of walled streets and confusing detours. At least, that's how I remember it from 2001 (I still don't know how we got off the main road into the city centre...). But maybe they've fixed the roads since then, because both last spring and this year I managed to navigate the multiple roundabouts and find my way to the other side of Cirencester without getting lost or going the wrong direction (although I thought I had gone off the wrong way for a moment this time around).
After a "quick" stop at Tesco (leaving with a carload of shopping bags), we were only a few miles from Chipping Campden. It should have been a quick jaunt, but in my overconfidence leaving Stow, I took a wrong turn and headed off into the countryside instead on a direct road to Chipping Campden. Lucky us, we got to travel a network of one-track roads through miniscule villages and hamlets before winding our way back to the A-424 and A-44 and on to Chipping Campden.
No, this doesn’t turn into a story about how I was surprised to find the schedules had changed, and there were no trains for hours, etc. etc. But I’ll admit I was a little bit nervous about such a contingency, since the Hertz office where we were to collect our car in Bath closed at 1 p.m., and any untoward delays on the train could leave us without a car. Actually, I thought they closed at noon, so the pressure was even greater. So we rushed to eat an early breakfast and called for a taxi to collect us at 8:30 a.m. (originally meant to be 8:45, but I moved it up). Traffic was light early on Saturday morning, and we were deposited at Paddington by about 8:45.
“Hurry up,” I told my parents—“I think there might be a 9:00 train to Bath.” There are a number of people who may remember past instances of being rushed through Paddington Station by me to catch the next train to Bath. I really can’t fathom waiting for a later train if there’s an earlier one to jump onto. Often in the past it has also seemed that the platforms are not posted on the departures board until the very last minute, so no matter how early you get to the station, you find yourself running for the train when the platform number finally flashes onto the board.
This time however, everything went uncharacteristically smoothly. When I checked the board at 8:45, it already showed the train to Bristol (calling at Bath Spa) was leaving from Platform 6. Platform 6 was right in front of us, and the train was already in the station. So we easily rolled our luggage to the platform and climbed into our carriage. Not a bit of frenzy needed.
Collecting our car in Bath went equally smoothly. For the first time ever, I was clever enough to get a taxi to drive up to the platform to collect our luggage, instead of hauling it through the station and down a flight of stairs to the taxi stand. By 11 a.m. we had our car—a Volkswagon Jetta, diesel—and were on the road to the Cotswolds. My mother, who has in the past insisted on riding in the back seat, took a leap of courage and moved up to the front seat, and she seemed to tolerate the ride with less shrieking and criticism than I generally hear in the U.S. She also agreed to be map reader, which is a bit of a chore with me because I have a tendency to snap at the navigator if they are not quick enough with the maps. (Occasionally I have to pull over and grab the map to look at it myself.)
We made it through Bath without incident, and that included driving through the narrow, walled streets of the city centre. (I am quite proud of my ability to navigate through Bath. But we’ll see if I feel the same way when we are back in Bath to stay for a few days.)
One of the nice things about driving in the English countryside is that if you miss the road to your destination, there will probably soon be another one going to the same place. And then probably another one after that. England is a web of roads, from the giant motorway (which I stay off of as much as possible—it’s no fun), to the A roads (similar to our state highways, sometimes two-lane, sometimes four-lane), the B roads (more secondary than the A roads, but a good mode of transportation), and finally, the narrow, un-numbered roads that criss-cross the countryside, connecting the villages and other roads in a crazy-quilt patchwork of lanes and byways. Often these are one-track roads, only wide enough for a single vehicle to pass, but luckily strewn with numerous turnouts to accommodate the rare occasion of oncoming cars (or tractors, or lorries, or occasionally, misguided tour buses).
So, while I generally choose A and B roads for primary, point to point travel (particularly if I’m going a longer distance), the one-track roads are there to bail me out of a missed turn and to amuse me during more leisurely outings.
During the trip from Bath to Chipping Campden we only had to deviate from our chosen route twice due to missed turns. Each time the alternate route took us down scenic byways that eventually led us back to our proper destination and only added to the enjoyment of the drive.
Our first stop en route to Chipping Campden was a short visit to Castle Coombe, a small village not too far from Bath that has been called "the prettiest village in England" (although there are a lot of villages that claim that title), and which happens to be a favorite of my father.
It really is a tiny village, with only one main street, although it does have all the village necessities—a church (with cemetery), an art gallery for tourists to buy expensive but lovely mementos of their visit, two country house hotels (one at either end of town), a couple of pubs, a tearoom, and (most importantly for visitors) a public restroom. We spent some time strolling the pretty street and taking pictures (which are undoubtedly very similar to all the pictures taken in the past!). We also purchased a few goodies at the church bake sale.
As I said before, there are always several ways to get to any destination in England, and I had struggled earlier which route to choose to get to Chipping Campden. Would it be the road through Cheltenham, Nailsworth, and Stroud (familiar from our 2001 stay in Bisley)? Would it be the alternate route through Cirencester and up to Stow-on-the-Wold? From Castle Coombs, I decided it would be best to go up to Malmesbury and then by way of Cirencester and Stow-on-the-Wold. Conveniently, we could also stop at the Tesco superstore in Stow to pick up a few groceries.
Cirencester is a famous Roman town which reputedly has a lot to offer visitors. I see it as a nightmare of walled streets and confusing detours. At least, that's how I remember it from 2001 (I still don't know how we got off the main road into the city centre...). But maybe they've fixed the roads since then, because both last spring and this year I managed to navigate the multiple roundabouts and find my way to the other side of Cirencester without getting lost or going the wrong direction (although I thought I had gone off the wrong way for a moment this time around).
After a "quick" stop at Tesco (leaving with a carload of shopping bags), we were only a few miles from Chipping Campden. It should have been a quick jaunt, but in my overconfidence leaving Stow, I took a wrong turn and headed off into the countryside instead on a direct road to Chipping Campden. Lucky us, we got to travel a network of one-track roads through miniscule villages and hamlets before winding our way back to the A-424 and A-44 and on to Chipping Campden.
Spring CottageOur home in Chipping Campden is Spring Cottage, Birdcage Walk, Chipping Campden, Gloucestershire (England, the world, the universe, to paraphrase you-know-who in About a Boy (Widescreen Edition)). A perfect address and a pretty much perfect cottage. 
It is not as old as last year's cottage (Orchard Cottage in Saintbury), but it is Victorian and built of Cotswold stone and Cotswold charm. As with all the cottages managed and let by Campden Cottages, it is beautifully decorated, spotlessly kept up, and (like Mary Poppins) practically perfect in every way—with a lovely little garden as well. 
The kitchen table was set with a teapots and cups and a loaf of lemon bread, ready for a welcoming tea. After hauling in our carload of luggage and groceries, and meeting our elderly neighbor Nan (who was passing by and quickly engaged by my father), we were more than happy to settle down with tea and cake!
After that I had to collapse in my sunny bedroom for a nap—between writing late the night before and getting up around 5:30 to go running in Regent's Park, I'd only had a few hours of sleep the night before. A couple of hours rest and I was good as new, fit for a nice walk though Chipping Campden. I was happy to notice, in Chipping Campden and some of the other places I've seen so far, that this year the roses are in bloom!
2 comments:
Great post. Chipping Campden is a lovely place and it's good to see you travelled around some of the local villages as well.
It's so fun to follow your daily travels...and your posts make me miss England! It looks like you're having some decent weather...no doubt it's nicer now than it will be when we're there in December!
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