Quick Update, part the Nth

[inulro]

I appear to have successfully survived a weekend in the Cotswolds with lastaii, wehmuth, techbint and nasrat. We ended up being late collecting the latter from a train station in the middle of nowhere, because being in the Cotswolds, we had to contend with the hordes of yuppies in Chelsea tractors who think that the speed limit outside Zone 3 is 35 mph. Same hordes have driven the price of everything in the area so sky-high I could barely afford to eat. Thank goodness we found a farm shop other than the one recommended to us by techbint's mum, which took overpriced into realms not previously witnessed by myself.

The weather was less bad than advertised, so we wandered around Sudeley Castle, which was cool, especially the pheasant and waterfowl enclosure complete with a very silly chicken. Then, after driving through Winchcombe more times than can possibly be healthy, we decided to make an attempt to see Belas Knapp. This was successful, though I nearly gave up 3/4 of the way up the steep part of the hill. Which was extremely humiliating, especially as I thought I'd been getting fitter lately.

Saturday evening found me somehow making the instant transformation from sober to Way Too Drunk. By some miracle I was alive and upright at the same time as everyone else on Sunday, which involved more driving around & looking at pretty countryside, with a stop at a nice country pub.

Unfortunately, we missed the brief window of food being served at said pub, and thus embarked on one of my least favourite road trip rituals, The Hunt for Food on Sunday Afternoon/Evening. This culminated in a visit to a pub which is likely the inspiration for chavscum.co.uk, and which, though advertising food until 6:00, didn't mean it unless you wanted the carvery. The veggies amonst us extorted some chips from them. Eventually. A culinary disappointment it may have been, but this diversion did give us the chance for a flying visit with diffrentcolours.

I felt less bad than I should have today, until early afternoon when I felt more flu-like than exhausted, but I'm feeling much better now. I'm heading directly to lie down & read, just in case. I'm still on probation at work and need to actually go in.

Comments

[girfan.livejournal.com]

Do you remember being up by Belas Knapp years ago when J & I lived at Humblebee?

I still haven't been to Sudley Castle, though I've met Henry Dent Brocklehurst.

I'm sure if you had asked aoakley, he could have recommended good reasonably priced pubs abd restaurants in the area. Or J, even (Craven Arms in Brockhampton comes to mind instantly)

[sarah-mum.livejournal.com]

That hill up to Belas Knapp is a bit of a swine, no shame in having a few rests on the way. So much easier if you take the back route, we even got our James in that way (though we shredded his tyres!).

[inulro.livejournal.com]

My problem with hills is that if I stop & have a rest, the chances of getting started again are poor, so I've got to do it all at once. The path being wet & slippery didn't help.

[mimmimmim.livejournal.com]

My dad and stepmum dragged me off to Lower Slaughter once. I loathed the place and, by extension, the rest of the Cotwolds. I'm still getting over that... (It was the little things like no pubs, no post office, no affordable housing for locals. Middle class paradise, probably, but being a pleb, I found it a little corner of hell.)

[inulro.livejournal.com]

Actually, most of the villages do have decent village shops/Post Offices. With better selection than my local corner shop because of the yuppie influx (oh, the irony). I focussed real hard on the pretty countryside aspect, because as you say, otherwise it's a little corner of hell.

How the locals survive without going postal, I have no idea.

Have to say I prefer the Lake Distrist, the Peak District, all of rural Yorkshire, and Norfolk as places to go in the country, but none of those are an hour away from here.

[hirez.livejournal.com]

(An ex-local writes:)

Some villages have post offices. Some even manage to keep shops running (usually down to the density of non-driving pensioners who need to buy food more often than the twice-weekly bus into $local_town allows), no thanks to the weekending yuppie scum who belt into Cheltenham/Ciren/Oxford for a Rangie-load of Tesco Finest. (Unless things have changed an awful lot in the last five years)


How did I survive?

I drank, took drugs and crashed cars. Others drank, crashed cars and indulged in non-consensual sex.

You know 'Kerosene'? Like that.

It's still one of the best places in the country, mind. Probably because it's home.

[mimmimmim.livejournal.com]

I quite like Wiltshire - probably because Dad's been dragging me up and down the ridgeway since I could walk.

The Cotswolds would be beautiful if it just felt more real!