Prior to Karen’s operation we were told that she wouldn’t be able to fly long haul for 12 weeks, which caused us some holiday replanning. We were also unsure how mobile she would be afterwards but guessed that after eight weeks we should be able to manage a short break somewhere in this country.
As we now know, with her recovery we could have travelled both earlier and further, but with hindsight I would also have chosen different lottery numbers.
So, we were off to the Cotswolds – Chipping Norton to be exact. I cannot recall what inspired Karen to choose it as a destination. It certainly wasn’t Jeremy Clarkson, as it is only in the last month that we decided to try watching his farm series for the first time. We agreed with one recent review that described it as a modern scripted farce and, ten episodes in, we are not exactly rushing to watch any more at the moment.
The plan was to break the journey up by utilising our soon-to-expire English Heritage membership with a visit to Audley End. We had been once before a few years back with Graham and Jo.
So, with still more luggage than was needed for a three-night trip, we set off at 9am. It was a straightforward drive and before long we arrived at Audley End. Parking seemed unnecessarily far away from the gardens and, indeed, sufficiently so that they were providing golf buggy rides for those who needed them. We declined and walked down the long grassy slope, partly because we didn’t need the buggy and partly because neither of us fancied becoming the youngest passengers of the day.
The house looked impressive as we approached. Our first priority, however, was the toilets, which we eventually found tucked around the other side of the building. Karen decided that, as the tea room was conveniently next door, we should also get ourselves a hot drink.
As ever, I had no interest whatsoever in the inside of the house and, although I offered to wait outside, Karen decided she would make do with the outer servants’ quarters, which we explored instead.
We walked over to the stables and kitchen area, which were pleasant enough, before heading back towards the house via the lake. As a further 75 minutes had passed since her last drink, Karen felt we should have another, coupled with the members’ offer of adding a scone for £1 extra each. It would have been rude not to. Or so I was informed.
Apart from a quick look at the small formal gardens, we had completed Audley End. I would not have been happy paying £21 each to visit without membership, but as part of the annual fee it made for a perfectly acceptable stop.
After a decent walk back up to the car, we started the longer drive to Chipping Norton. Any drive across middle England is never that direct because of the road network and it never really felt as though we got going properly.
At 3.45pm we arrived in Chipping Norton. At first sight we couldn’t decide whether it was more like Fakenham or Holt. We located the car park for The Fox, a 16th-century pub owned by Hook Norton Brewery, where we were booked for the next three nights.
The staff checking us in were exceptionally friendly and helpful and took us to our room in what we assumed had once been an old stable block outside. The room immediately received a thumbs-up from Karen, which is always a good sign.
After settling in we went for a wander around “Nipping Chorton” in the light rain, which merely served as another reminder of why I get fed up booking trips in the UK. I wouldn’t mind if it was raining at home and doing the garden some good, but apparently the weather had decided to save all its sunshine for Norfolk.
The small town seemed pleasant enough, with an abundance of pubs and coffee shops. Our celebrity spotting count remained at zero after the walk.
For dinner we thought it would be rude not to eat where we were staying. We both had fish and chips which, whilst overpriced (although perhaps not for around here), were fresh and perfectly fine. We washed them down with samples from the brewery. Karen had the lager and I had the cider. Both were very good. In fact, I had another just to make sure.
Karen wanted something to follow but didn’t want to eat in the pub. Instead, she suggested a wander to the Sainsbury’s Local opposite. We ended up buying their equivalent of a large whole Colin the Caterpillar cake, reduced to an amazing £2.40. The only trouble was that back in our room we had no knife with which to cut it, so we ended up hacking it apart with a spoon like two people stranded in the wilderness rather than guests in a comfortable hotel.
With the last episode of the terrific Dear England on the television (the play was even better), I tried to update the blog website but ran into a. problem. I got onto the online chat facility and then realised, thirty minutes into the conversation, that I had caused the problem myself.
Whoops.
By 10.30pm I was snoring away in bed, leaving Karen to watch the news.
