An idyllic weekend in the Cotswolds complete with English summer fete

Arlington Way Bibury

A few Saturdays ago I was somewhat shocked to find myself sipping Pimms by a stream in the sunshine in the English countryside.  Shocked because I felt as though I had left Melbourne just a few hours before and yet here I was; ensconced in a vignette of Cotswold life so achingly beautiful and perfect and seemingly quintessential that I truly felt as though I had stumbled onto a movie set.

Bibury house and garden

It had been, in fact, some 35 hours earlier that we had left Melbourne for this most green and pleasant of lands . But long-haul flights do funny things to your perception of time. Cocooned in the warmth and half-light of an aeroplane cabin dimmed for sleep, time seems to compress as you fly from afternoon into an ocean-crossing night that stretches for 20 odd hours.

Cotswold-road

The trip started brilliantly before we had even touched down. The sun was rising just as we flew in to land at Heathrow. Out of the window the first thing that came into view as we pierced  through the clouds was green farmland with the Thames, gleaming a dark olive in the weak dawn light, snaking in a thick band through the countryside.

Bibury Lane

I’m somewhat obsessed with rivers. Especially rivers so old and venerable as the Thames so it was miraculous for me to be able to follow this vast waterway virtually from its mouth, up through green fields until it glittered below in its familiar loop in the very centre of London itself. As the sun rose higher and gave bright colour to the landscape below, we cruised over Hyde Park and began to circle.

Hemlock

I literally had my nose pressed against the glass of the window as I drank in the scenes below me. Deeply green fields, mist lying in the lowest depressions and occasionally something truly spectacular like a castle with its own lake. A lake so large it had formed its own weather system and two small clouds were reflected in its mill pond-still surface. Or a small town with cathedral on a river, the white points of which reached skyward in gothic peaks.

summer-flowers-in-a-garden

But back to terra firma.

Cotswold's wall

By 6am, my handsome husband and I were in our rental car and headed straight from Heathrow out into the English countryside. Cotswold's meadow

Walk in Bibury

By 7am the dulcet tones of our GPS had guided us to Bibury, a charming Cotswold village. We did a three hour loop walk through the town, the nearby woods and fields. It was utterly beautiful.

Ash copse

English countryside. There. is. nothing. like. it.

Stone manor bibury

I confess that I cried. About 6 times. I was overwhelmed by the sheer beauty and a deep-seated sense of being so ridiculously fortunate.

Sheep in field in Bibury

Feeling pretty tired after that we decided to head for the place we were staying: Lords of the Manor in Upper Slaughter. When you are saying “Lords of the Manor in Upper Slaughter” you have to do so in a Penelope Keith-type accent. It’s the law.

Stone wall in meadow

On our way we saw a sign to the remains of a Roman villa from the 3rd century. We detoured. I was in heaven:  nerding out on Roman history in the middle of an Elysian setting.

Roman ruins - Chedworth Villa

Continuing on along tiny country lanes lined with stone walls and flower-filled hedgerows we arrived in Upper Slaughter.

Cotsewold's wall and road

It is a tiny little town.

Sign-to-Upper-Slaughter

As we turned into the main street  a sign read “Upper Slaughter summer fete – today 3-6pm.” I looked at Andrew in disbelief. It was too good to be true. “If there is British bunting and a church jumble sale, I will die” I said.

Then I died.

Upper Slaugher fair river view View-from-slope-to-Upper-Slaughter-fair

And then I died again because in addition to the above there were rubber duck races along the rush-lined stream, a Pimms stall AND Morris dancers.

Morris dancer

Duck race on the River Eye

So you’d forgive a lass for sitting in the sun with her Pimms and pinching herself. And you’d forgive her if she shed another little tear at the sheer perfection of it all.

Andrew-drinking-Pimms-in-Upper-Slaughter

Fete Upper Slaughter

The next afternoon we wandered down to the stream again. In Australia you would see the grass strewn with cigarette butts and crushed beer cans. Of course in Upper Slaughter, all that remained was this:

Pyramid of Pimms bottles

a neat pyramid of empty Pimms bottles.  LOVE.

I have a few more UK posts coming up. Stay tuned to see whether Loooords of the Manor was as frightfully as it sounds, a little more of the stunning Cotties plus a quick trip to Bath (where I again totally nerd out on all things Roman),  and then on to London.

But first, tomorrow I’ll be posting a quick craft tutorial. It’s been a long time between crafty drinks hasn’t it?

13 thoughts on “An idyllic weekend in the Cotswolds complete with English summer fete

  1. I am green, green, green with envy! It brings back so many wonderful memories! Do lord and lady it up and dream about buying a little stone house in the Cotswalds. Who doesn’t? Or at least live there via a good old Brit mystery novel.
    Can hardly wait for more.

  2. It’s like where I imagined Fanny, Bessie and Jo lived, and therefore I’m completely envious. I’m glad you had a simply marvellous time – we had a lovely time with that handsome rooster too!
    xx

  3. Love it. Loved everything about it. Wish I was there too, with Pimms and duck races and english accents. Your pictures are perfect and capture it beautifully.

  4. Now I’m SOOO homesick! Lovely post but sums up everything I miss about home (apart from Morris Dancers they were never my bag and I was always very concerned that my dad would take it up one day!). I went to university in Cheltenham so managed to do tons of exploring around the Cotswolds. Such a gorgeous area.

    • George, I’m sorry I made you homesick! It was so truly perfect. We nearly got to Cheltenham but not quite. What an amazing place to go to uni. xxxxx

  5. Your post is hilariously in the traditional Englishness of it all. I live in England and have been to 3 summer fetes this year! Whilst never taking them for granted, it’s lovely to be reminded just how wonderful and special it is to live here (and how lucky I am, and how much I love it). Hope your time here gives you as much joy x
    Confession: I used to be a Morris Dancer, and am having bunting and serving Pimms with scones (and jam and cream) at my wedding next month.

    • Oh Jane, your wedding sounds so gorgeous! And thanks for your lovely comment. I did love it all so very deeply – you’re a lucky one to live there. Xxxxx

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