August 13

Oxford into the Cotswolds

Later note: For some reason, my pictures aren't uploading. Maybe they'll show up in the post, maybe not. They won't be where I want them.

Won’t be posting this tonight, as we’re staying for three nights at a hotel without Wi-fi. The news every day continues to be about people waiting for planes and about the unraveling of the plot of some Pakistanis to blow up planes bound for America. And of course to rag on Tony Blair – pictures every day showing him on the yacht in the Bahamas, seemingly oblivious to the problems at home. And apparently, there are three people who would like his job, and they all seem to think they’re running the country. Yet, he continues to remain mum.

We on the other hand, have been truly ugly Americans today. We called about picking up our car rental this morning, supposed to be at 9 a.m., only to find out that it wasn’t there, and wasn’t expected until noon. We had already ordered a taxi to take us to the car hire place, and were going to have him take us to the train station to wait, because we had to be out of our room, so we couldn’t stay at the B&B either. The B&B owner basically told us to have some balls and go to the car rental agency and be obnoxious. Maybe give us an upgrade, but just get us out of there. This turned out to be a good idea, but only because someone came back with their car early.

We’ve now had the car for 12 hours and I’m amazed to say that both the mirrors are intact, as are those of every other car we passed today. Of course in 12 hours, I think we covered perhaps 25 miles, maybe not that much.

Insert left Blenheim We visited Blenheim palace first thing. It is quite a gorgeous place, has some lovely grounds, but for some reason the grounds closest to the palace have nothing planted on them. They seem to be set up to be convenient as a giant parking lot. Winston Churchill was born here. His father was the younger brother of the heir to the Duke of Marlborough, and his mother Jennie was at a party at the palace when Winston decided it was time to join the world. So he grew up near some quite fantastic wealth, but the wealth his family had came from his mother’s side. I forget who, but she was the daughter of some American robber baron.

Insert right john at blenheim At the sort of bottom of the palace is a chapel with this quite stunning sculpture which looks like the kind of thing George Bush would like to stand in front of to make fatuous statements, though he’d probably want to have the people in the statue dressed better.

It’s still quite cold here, and rained both last night and tonight. We moved on from Blenheim to Morton on Marsh, a charming Cotswold town whose main attraction is that the long main market street is as it was in the 1600s. Well, except that I don’t think every store on the street sold tourist tschakas or real estate or operated tea rooms in the 1600s. Apparently then, it was mostly sheep, wool, and more sheep. The whole area of the Cotswolds is a monument to sheep, from the time when wool was a very desirable commodity, and Cotswold wool was the best of the lot. And then it became desirable, and the whole place just sort of collapsed. But nobody cared whether it was there or not, so nothing got changed. Now everybody wants a piece of it. For me, the best thing of all was a charity shop which had a COAT!! It’s a bit big, but it’s warm and I’ve been freezing. And it’s a charity dedicated to the aged. So I win twice. The owner told us that just last week he had to let all the employees go home because it was over 100 degrees in the shop. I’d have been happy with that today.

We drove the 5 miles from Morton on Marsh to Stow on the Wold at the breakneck speed of about 45 mph, with John screaming in the passenger seat from time to time about not running into curbs and such, but without incident. Our hotel, which looked quite glamourous on the internet is just so-so, and of course doesn’t have internet access, so I feel quite deprived.

We went back to Stow on the Wold tonight for dinner. Sat for a bit in a pub where I know Agatha Raisin, one of my favorite fictional characters, would have felt quite at home, and which was quite cheery and cosy. Insert left small friendly pub stow The picture doesn’t do it justice because I didn’t use flash, but I still like the feeling. Then the bartender told us to stand behind the bar and he’d take our picture. This bar is decorated with money – paper and coins, glued all over everywhere. I guess you can decorate with money..