Disappearing venues in the Cotswolds

While we were away in Gunnislake Coupons had let slip to Grumbles that she'd pressured Nursey who had booked to go away in a Static during May for a week, as it was far too long to wait until July and the 2 weeks in Cornwall that are Planned.

Since we got home Grumbles has been playing games with Herself.  He's always looking on line at the Hotel we've got booked for him in Perranporth, and dropping hints about length of time, and to be honest he's been miserable as sin.

Herself broke after 2 weeks promising him some mini-breaks away if he'd cheer up.  It worked and I was given the task of finding somewhere suitable.  Little did I know how difficult the task would be finding a site open at the start of March, with a B&B adjacent, a pub within staggering distance and would accept 3 dogs (oh, and be within 150 miles a s it was only for 4 nights. 

Wednesday 8 March

Stirring at 7am I peak out of the window and we've had some snow, not much, but a biggie for us as we live within a stones throw of the sea.  Grumbles is on the phone to Herself in a panic because of the dusting.  I check the M4 cameras on line and it's clear as far as the Severn Bridge.

By 10.15 I've got the caravan out, finished loading and we're yelling "Wagons Roll" to Facebookville.

I'll not lie to you, I usually enjoy towing, but not today.  The tow up was tortuous.  Sleet, snow and road spray did not make for a pleasant journey, but by 1.30 Grumbles is settled into his room and "we is arrived" at the Thames Head Inn, where I thankfully negotiated the rather tight entrance without incident.

Herself had forgotten to bring any food with us aside for breakfast stuff.  This of course is my fault.  We hop into Toyah and make the short trip into Cirencester and pick up a few tuna sandwiches which are wolfed down on the way back to site,  We chill in the van, literally. as the Truma battles against a winter's worth of cold to warm the fabric of the van, before adjourning over to the pub to take up out booked table at 6pm.

A rather lovely evening was had. The food was superb, the grog flowed and conversation sparkled (well, we weren't grunting at each other anyway).

Thursday 9 March

My phone tells me the rest of the country is covered in a blanket of snow, we've just got rain!

I've had my toast by 9.30am when Grumbles saunters round the corner rubbing his belly after inhaling a Full English.  Git.

We sort ourselves out by 10.30am and point Toyah in the general direction of Chipping Norton and Jeremy Clarkson's Didly Squat Farm.

Approaching the place it is immediately obvious why the locals are so against it being there.  The verges are ruined where cars have driven over them due to inadequate parking and people are swarming all over the place.

Pulling in through the gate we are less than impressed.  I've seen clips on TV but the muddy car park does nothing to warm the cockles.  We get lucky with a parking space, but it looks cold with a blanket of snow covering the surrounding fields.  Grumbles is refusing to get out and Herself voiced a similar opinion.

I have a little rant about driving the 32 miles to get here and them not bothering to come out.  Herself senses the danger point and starts to layer up.  Grumbles is already layered up and is intent he's still not getting out.

There's a queue to get into the tiny shop that's snaking round the attached barn.  We go round the back to the cafe / bar area, which for some reason is covered with graffiti.  I get stung for 2 coffees at £2.50 each and a pint of IPA at £6.

I go back to Toyah and tempt Grumbles out with the promise of a coffee inside the barn.  What I didn't tell him was the barn was open one side and only had slatted walls on the other 3.

Whilst the IPA was quite nice, I would struggle to echo Clarkson's view "F**k me, that's good beer!", and I'm informed the coffee was rank.

Grumbles lasted about 3 mins before heading back to Toyah! Rather helpfully they've got a price list pinned up for stuff in the shop.  Having perused that Herself and I decided we weren't going to queue to get in and we set off on the return journey rather underwhelmed at our experience.

I'd liked the look of Burford earlier and had plans to stop off and have a wander. Pulling up in the car park Grumbles once again declares he's staying put!  Herself says she liked the look of a pub a bit further up the road and she'd like to head there for lunch.  We didn't stop.

We also failed to find the pub despite travelling the exact same route in reverse and find ourselves rolling into an almost deserted Cirencester, where after abandoning Toyah we have lunch in the Crown, we've been there a few times before so know it'll be good.

A quick walk around the deserted centre followed where the only other people about appeared to be refugees loitering in the doorways to their flats!

I had thought of taking a look at the amphitheater, but a gang of teenagers hanging around there scuppered that idea, so we diverted to Cotswold Country Park and Beach to walk the dogs before returning back to site to chill for a few hours.

Table booked again tonight in the pub, once again the food was lovely, but a slightly different view though the doorway tonight.

Friday 10 March

We wake and there appears to be an improvement in the weather.  No blue skies or sun, but at least the rain and sleet has stopped.

Grumbles and his full belly rocks up dressed like he's off out for the day with Robert Falcon Scott and not Herself and I.  All piled into Toyah we head off out for the day.  The temperature drops once more as we gain a little altitude out of Cirencester, and it's still only just above freezing as we roll down Lansdowne into Bourton-in-the-Water.

Parking up outside the Model Village on Rissington Rd the dogs get clipped on, Grumbles puts on another layer and we head up High St along side the River Windrush.

As ever it's very picturesque, but it's quite early in the day and far too cold this time of year for the Saga bus trips, so apart from a fist full of Asian selfie sticks, it's reasonably quiet.

A bottle of Cotswold Gin is procured from one of the shops, amazingly cheaper than on Amazon (we checked), but Herself failed to find herself a nice wine glass for the caravan.

Grumbles says he saw a model shop on the way in and wants to take a look.  We dutifully follow as he paces up the road we came in on.  We've left the shops now and get as far as the Mousetrap Inn (closed by the way) before Herself and I grab Tali off him and about turn telling him to carry on and we'll see him back in town.

We've taken a table near the fire in the Old Manse Hotel having just ordered a few coffee's when I can see him stood in the middle of the road on the bridge outside, looking rather cold, dejected and lost.  I was tempted to stay put but went as far as the door to shout at him before ordering a Latte.

He didn't find the shop he was looking for either, mainly because there wasn't one.  Did he imagine it, or is it the same as that pub yesterday?

We want to look around the Motor Museum opposite, assume it's not dog friendly (without checking) so I take the dogs back to the car, leaving Grumbles and herself next to the fire.  A young lady was posing for pictures on one of the bridges in a red dress.  I don't know what the purpose was but she looked bloody cold sat there and was getting rather impatient with the wannabe David Bailey as he fuss farted with his camera!

Back at the Old Manse Grumbles has drained his Latte and impatiently shoved my Coke Zero across the table to me, before putting his gloves back on.  I'm still catching my breath after the brisk walk back from the car as he's stood in the doorway staring.

Across the road is the Cotswold Motoring Museum.  Paying for 3 adults proved to be a little more complicated than it should have been, and while we're waiting a couple exit the display rooms with a dog on a lead.  Herself is not impressed, and I'm left in no doubt whatsoever that I'm out of favor for locking her fur-babies in the car!

The museum was very interesting, although for me it could have had more vehicles from the 60s and 70s.  We walk down alongside the Windrush, the red dress now departed, collect the dogs and take a table for lunch inside The Old New Inn.

Heading back closer to base we stop off at the Co-op Petrol Station to give Toyah the good news with the jetwash and top her tank up with fuel that's 10p per litre more expensive than back home.  While I'm in the shop paying Grumbles and Herself are sat open mouthed as a woman forces her van under the height barrier into a parking space.  I'm told there was much scraping and squealing!

I had to wait to see her attempt to get out!

Wanting to give the dogs a good run we made our way to the Cotswold Country Park and Beach once more, where it's a lot more pleasant than it was this time yesterday.  The sun is even trying its best to break through!  Grumbles has even changed out of his Antarctic Expedition gear.

Back on site to shower and chill for a bit as the site fills up for the weekend and the sun even made an appearance briefly.

*Rant button on.

Why are some so inconsiderate.  New Motorhome has parked up 3 pitches away and by the state of the grass opposite he's not too clever at reversing!  He now decides he needs to fill up his water tank, cuts the corner getting off his pitch and digs a trench in the grass there, fails to negotiate the site road churning up mud before cutting across the grass to the tap rim deep into the turf!

When he's done he attempts top reverse out, again digging a trench you could plant spuds in.  Having blocked the site road himself he's now too impatient to wait for someone else to park and goes off road across the grass once more, wheel spinning to a stop.  There then ensued a forward and reverse rocking until he dug himself out of the ruts!

What a plonker!

*Rant button off.

Another evening in the pub on the cards, and we settle at a different table this evening, next to the bar.  I'm not sure if this was a good move or not, as the staff could see when I'd drained my Guinness and were passing over a fresh one without the need for me to leave my seat.

The Scarlets are playing this evening, and luckily the game is being streamed on YouTube.  Mind you, come the final whistle I wished it wasn't!

Saturday 11 March

Overcast when we get up, but at least there's been no overnight rain.  Breakfast is served at a different time on a weekend, so Grumbles and his full belly are an hour later sauntering round the corner this morning.

A big day out planned on a chuff chuff today.  We make out way to Cheltenham Race Course and the southernmost station of the Gloustershire and Warwickshire Steam Railway, a 14 mile stretch of track from here to Broadway.  The station is pristine, not a bit of litter anywhere.  Staff (volunteers) are all dressed from an age gone by with permanent smiles stapled to their chops.

We missed the earlier steam train due to Grumbles breakfast, so the first train of our day is a deisil locomotive, a rattly and noisy thing.  Tali and Gwawr are not happy, not happy at all, and they shook all the way to Winchcombe where they pull our arms off as we disembark.

Grumbles races off to take a look at the model railway they have on display in an old carriage while Herself and I freeze on a bench.  We need a warm, and a station porter, in a huge overcoat,  tells us that the best place to go is the cafe on the other platform before helping us cross the line.

Herself and I walk up the platform with the dogs, only to be greeted by big "no dogs allowed" signs. It's absolutely nobblin as we take a table on the platform and I go in and join the queue for a few egg and cress rolls.

Time to get a move on now and cross back over the live as our ride for the remainder of the journey is due.  The overcoat approaches, full of smiles ......

"Nice and warm now?"

I resist punching him in the throat "Well, no.  No dogs allowed!"

"Of course, sorry about that."

Steam engine this time, and we hop on grabbing a few tables in the middle of the carriage.

The journey north up to Broadway was very picturesque and we're enjoying soaking up the atmosphere as steam bellows outside our window.  Grumbles can't quite understand our excitement as we approach the station at Broadway with caravanners stood on their steps waving as we trundle past.

We didn't bother getting off as the engine changed ends.  Is there a proper term for that? And we're soon trundling back south arriving back at the racecourse just as the weather starts to take a turn.

Grumbles is happy with his anorak day out and is all smiles as we head straight back to site so him and Herself can catch another episode of Clarkson's Farm, which they now seem to like having been there. before adjourning to the pub one last time.  We didn't stay too long though, I'm not drinking due to towing in the morning, and after food we adjourn to the van to watch a few more episodes before hitting the sack.

Sunday 12 March

Funny how the bed always feels more comfortable on breaking camp morning!  Prizing myself out of it at 7.30am I'm relieved it's not raining, but we've had a bit overnight so the canopy will get rolled up wet to be dried out at home.

By 9am we're all set.  I successfully negotiate the tree stump and roof overhang and we park up in the pub car park and let the dogs have a sniff around, to wait on Grumbles and his breakfast!

9.30am and we hit the road as drizzle starts to fill the air.  The roads were quiet, and once on the M4 I barely touched a pedal, letting the cruise control do its magic until J48.

Until next time.