an idyll in the Cotswolds

As the last days of Avery’s East­er hol­i­day came and went, John and realised that if we were to avert the low mood that always accom­pa­nies her depar­ture, it was time for an adven­ture of our own.  It was very sim­ple to make a reser­va­tion for a peace­ful evening, din­ner and break­fast in a tru­ly per­fect hotel in the Cotswolds, quite eas­i­ly our favorite area of Eng­land.  But first, Oxford.

I sup­pose some­day, the thrill of see­ing the tow­er of Mag­dalen Col­lege rise up in the dis­tance, as we approach the city of dream­ing spires.  But not yet.  It is just mag­i­cal, every sin­gle time, to motor up the High Street and realise that one of our num­ber BELONGS there.  Amazing.

We strug­gled up the stairs of her col­lege laden with suit­cas­es, duf­fel bags, and totes filled with all her clob­ber.  John went off to the Mas­ter’s Lodg­ings (how won­der­ful does that sound) to retrieve the box­es she had effi­cient­ly put into stor­age with even more stuff.  This mov­ing-out-and-in every term is a huge drag.  Next year, her liv­ing out­side col­lege will be much more relaxing.

What a thrill await­ed us as she put her key in the lock — new car­pet!  No more stinky, filthy, grit­ty car­pet with the dis­tinct burn mark of an iron!  A per­va­sive new-car­pet smell waft­ed toward us.  What a relief!  We debat­ed whether the walls of her sit­ting room had been paint­ed, or whether they were just bask­ing in the glow of the glo­ry that was the floor.

We unpacked in record time, after a sear­ing­ly hot Thai lunch in the Cov­ered Mar­ket, and then there was no excuse to stay.  Best to hug quick­ly and just go.

Once away, we cheered up at the idea of a night away from home — away from lit­ter box­es and dish­wash­ers and laun­dry.  Just to get away for 24 pre­cious hours.  We arrived at the incom­pa­ra­ble Buck­land Manor feel­ing in high good humor.  As who could not in such a setting!

We first stayed here in 1990, with John’s par­ents, and then they gave us a night here for my birth­day the fol­low­ing year, and then I could­n’t resist tak­ing my par­ents there in 1992, right before we moved back to New York.  My moth­er and I will nev­er for­get Dad’s utter shock at see­ing the price for High Tea!  At the time it was mor­ti­fy­ing and I want­ed to sink under the table, but now, it’s a dear mem­o­ry of his cheap­skate ways.

We decid­ed to explore the church and grounds before din­ner, and encoun­tered pos­si­bly the world’s friend­liest cat.  As you see!

She was­n’t quite so keen on being picked up, but I did­n’t let that both­er me.

We had expect­ed a robust “meat and two veg” for din­ner, real­ly look­ing for­ward to a good lamb chop and a bit of pota­toes dauphi­noise.  In such lux­u­ri­ous­ly beau­ti­ful sur­round­ings, it would be a feast.

We could not have been more wrong.  The food was absolute­ly stun­ning — lit­tle amuse bouch­es of creamy crab soup, lit­tle sashi­mi salmon slices, lots of lit­tle sur­pris­es to accom­pa­ny del­i­cate starters and a tru­ly inspired dish of lamb three ways — a slice of leg, a per­fect cube of fil­let, and con­fit shoul­der.  Heaven.

And what a delight to repair to our room and watch a dear doc­u­men­tary in cel­e­bra­tion of the Queen’s 90th Birth­day, that very day.  Sip­ping a brandy, look­ing around at sheets and tow­els I would not have to laun­der… heaven.

In the morn­ing we enjoyed a sump­tu­ous break­fast and then repaired to the near­by hill­side to walk it off.

There were lambs!

I absolute­ly swear — not that I have a rep­u­ta­tion — that I did not wor­ry the lambs.  I left them well alone, although hav­ing to wring my hands in frus­tra­tion.  Some did feel like run­ning away, know­ing what was in my heart.

We walked for hours, final­ly com­ing back to the hotel to strip off our mud­dy boots and climb in the car, say­ing good­bye to the love­ly staff and vow­ing to return before anoth­er 24 years have gone by.

Off then to anoth­er favorite place of all time, Upper Slaugh­ter, and a ruinous­ly expen­sive cup of cof­fee at the divine Lords of the Manor, scene of many long-ago week­ends togeth­er.  Such hap­py memories.

Then we came to Low­er Slaugh­ter, and came upon a church ready for a wedding.

We stopped to see if there would be ring­ing, and there was!  Such fun to be able to iden­ti­fy the pat­terns from out­side the church, enjoy­ing the famil­iar sounds.

We popped into Stow, sure­ly one of the most charm­ing towns in the world, for a spot of shop­ping.  I went a bit mad at Lam­bournes butch­er shop, com­ing away with lus­cious pork chops and a rolled breast of lamb stuffed with sausage­meat and mint.

But din­ner that evening was some­thing even more comforting.

Cur­ried Car­rot Soup

(serves 6)

2 tbsps butter

1 tbsp cur­ry powder

2 small red chill­ies, fine­ly chopped

4 cloves gar­lic, rough­ly chopped

1 medi­um onion, rough­ly chopped

1 stalk lemon­grass, fine­ly chopped

1‑inch knob fresh gin­ger, grated

4 cups/500g (about 12) car­rots, rough­ly chopped

3 cups/750 ml chick­en or veg­etable stock

3 tbsps sour cream

3 table­spoons whole milk

sea salt and fresh black pepper

extra sour cream

cilantro/coriander leaves to garnish

This soup could not be sim­pler.  Melt the but­ter in a large saucepan and gen­tly fry the cur­ry pow­der, chill­ies, gar­lic, onion and lemon­grass until the onions are soft­ened.  Add the gin­ger, car­rots and stock and bring to a boil.  Cook for about 30 min­utes, until car­rots are com­plete­ly soft­ened.  Whizz with a hand blender and add sour cream and milk, then blend again.  Sea­son to taste.  Serve with a dol­lop of sour cream and a sprin­kling of leaves.

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We lin­gered over this hot and spicy soup, think­ing about the last tir­ing, fun-filled cou­ple of days, but hap­py enough to be home, in real life once again.