After a very comfortable night’s sleep, we made our way down to the pub for our included breakfast, one of the perks of booking direct. As well as a few buffet items, we were able to order a freshly cooked hot breakfast. Karen went for the Eggs Benedict whilst I had the Full English. Both were well cooked, well presented and hit the spot nicely.
We took our time over breakfast, watching out of the window as Tipping Horton gently came to life.
After a quick few minutes back in our room, we were in the car driving the short five-minute journey to the Diddly Squat Farm Shop, part of Jeremy Clarkson’s farm. It was not yet 10am and the car park was already full. We had to park on the opposite side of the road in another field that had been requisitioned as an overflow car park.
At the bijoux farm shop there was a small queue to get in, which we joined. Karen moaned all the way round and was definitely not feeling the vibes from being there. All I bought was a half-price “Jeremy Pork Pie” for my lunch later.
We wandered around the back where many people were sat drinking filtered coffee (as the bar was not yet open) or eating frozen cow juice, all eagerly hoping to spot someone they recognised from the television series. I was probably the most famous person there and I am not even the most famous person in my own household.
You have to admire what Jeremy has created. He bought the 1,000-acre farm back in 2008, primarily as a tax-efficient investment. He lived in the farmhouse—which he subsequently demolished and rebuilt—and allowed a tenant farmer to work the surrounding land. Then he had the inspired idea to farm it himself and film the process. The rest is history.
But it is worth remembering that the original purchase was largely about passing assets on to his children, which perhaps explains some of his strongly held views whenever governments start talking about changing agricultural taxation.
From here we headed to the nearby Rollright Stones, which involved a short walk to their three separate sites. These stones had apparently been placed there around 1500 BC. Interesting certainly, but not quite enough to make me stand there and go “Wow.”
We managed to see the stones without getting wet, although the weather was distinctly showery—a recurring theme throughout the day.
After a pointless minor detour to Chastleton House, a National Trust property that turned out to be closed, we decided to head to Stow-on-the-Wold. Neither of us could remember ever visiting before. As we arrived it looked like another attractive Cotswold town built from the familiar honey-coloured local stone.
It was busy and full of tourists, to the point where it seemed almost entirely geared towards catering for them. Luckily we found a free parking space right in the centre of the main square. Karen was barely out of the car when she spotted a coffee shop opposite called Huffkins, established in 1890.
We were given a prime seat in the window—presumably to encourage other people to come inside—and the hot drinks were very welcome. I remarked to Karen that all the ugly people were being made to sit near the back.
After probably overstaying our welcome, we had a wander around the square, including a look inside the parish church. Karen was keen to see the doorway with trees on either side that is supposedly the inspiration for Tolkien when writing The Lord of the Rings.
We improvised lunch in the car, including my Jeremy Pork Pie. As we were deciding where to go next, a heavy shower started, which rather made our minds up for us. To Karen’s delight, I agreed to a picturesque drive through the Cotswolds to the outlet centre near Tewkesbury.
The drive took us past Adam Henson’s farm, although disappointingly he was not standing outside waving as we drove by.
Just as we arrived at the outlets, the rain stopped again. The place was almost deserted. Karen practically skipped towards the M&S Outlet, momentarily forgetting which leg she was supposed to be limping on. The shop was disappointingly small, but we both emerged with some new underwear, proving once again that middle age eventually catches us all.
We headed back through another shower to our base at The Fox for an hour’s relaxation.
As we got back into the car to drive the eleven miles to Jeremy Clarkson’s other business venture, The Farmer’s Dog, we noticed that the people staying below us in Room 8 had left the same time and were following us. Karen remarked that it would be quite a coincidence if they were heading to the same place.
They were.
I had managed to book a table exactly one month earlier. It had been a bit of a faff but I got there in the end. We were not expecting too much, but thought we would give it a go.
The fact there are now official brown tourist signs directing people to what was once a derelict pub shows just how successful the venture has become.
The official car park is a short distance away and was very muddy. The car park at the pub itself is supposedly reserved for Blue Badge holders. We were not entirely convinced that everyone parked there qualified.
The place was heaving and had a good atmosphere. A few people were dressed up but just as many, like me, were in shorts. There were several family groups and a generally relaxed feel. The check-in process was a little haphazard before we were eventually shown to a good table.
We both ordered some of Jeremy’s cider, which was actually rather good. Karen had the fruit flavoured version. It amused us that there was no pepper on the table as that could not be sourced from the UK.
Our waitress turned out to be the female version of Will from 2012, W1A and now Twenty Twenty-Six. She had all the mannerisms as well as the constant use of “Yeah, cool” and “Perfect”. It was hilarious and we spent much of the evening wondering whether anyone had ever dared point it out to her.
Service was extremely quick. We both had the steak pie and agreed that it was absolutely delicious although not cheap. So much so that Karen even ordered a dessert, which also received a big thumbs-up.
The décor was excellent and overall, although undeniably pricey, we thought it was a great experience.
Well done Jeremy.
Although he was obviously far too busy working in the kitchen to come out and say hello.
Our celebrity count therefore remained at zero.
With that we headed back to Flipping Orton where we caught up on a few things.
I was exhausted from the day’s exertions and was asleep by 10pm, whilst Karen watched the news on the laptop because the television kept losing signal.
A good day.
