It was a wise decision to spend the day in Oxford yesterday as we wake to heavy rain. As travellers' needs must, we start the day with a rather mundane but necessary trip to a laundromat in Moreton-in-Marsh ... the only one we can find anywhere nearby. We part dry our clothes but don't want to risk shrinking things in the clothes dryer so we bring our clothes back to the room and drape clothing and undergarments over every hook, flat surface and chair.
The sky is still slate grey and heavy when we drive towards the gates of Blenheim Palace and hand over our exorbitant entry fee. It does not seem to have dissuaded the hundreds of other visitors though as we are herded to overflow parking which covers large swathes of grassy fields on the estate. Fortunately it is only drizzling as we make the long walk to the palace itself.
It is a good day to be indoors but it is frustrating having to navigate the throngs of fellow visitors, all standing immobile and lost in the silent world of their respective audio guides. Still, it is something of a homage to one of History's Greatest Humans and a great privilege to visit the place where Winston Churchill was born.
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| Blenheim Palace |
As expected, the Palace is all grand rooms, decorated ceilings, gilt, portraits, rich tapestries and brocades. The family of the Duke of Marlborough still use the dining room every Christmas apparently ... it must be quite a gathering. The formal dining setting features a lump of silver that weighs the equivalent of two of me.
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| Fellow audio guide zombies |
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| The lavish dining table with silver bauble behind |
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| Wise words |
We spend a little time outside looking around the formal gardens but the rain threatens to return so we beat a hasty retreat indoors. Ross braves the cafe to buy some lunch but there is nothing there for me so we opt to leave and make our way into the nearby village of Woodstock.
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| Formal gardens |
It is quite a relief to escape the crowds and Woodstock reveals itself to be a beautiful place with historic stone cottages and cute cafes. Sadly it is overrun with cars and enormous tour buses but there are still some nice quiet corners to be found.
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| Views of Woodstock |
We are fortunate to find what must be the last parking spot, and settle into a cosy cafe for coffee (Ross and his cappuccino) and lunch (for me). Feeling fortified, we drive back towards our accommodation and stop in at an antiques centre in Chipping Norton. It is a 2-storey rambling property filled with odds and ends but there isn't really anything there to take Ross' fancy and so we go back to our room, rotate damp laundry on the heater for a couple of hours(!) and rest and prepare for the evening's expedition to The Fox (Part 2)!
This time we know exactly which Fox to target so we set off a bit early and do a small driving tour around the adjacent villages of Daylesford, Kingham, Churchill and Cornwell. They are all small and characterful, the picture-perfect villages of England-past with their village greens, churches as old as time and honey-coloured cottages. When we arrive in Lower Oddington, we take a short stroll through the village. Like the others it could almost be a relic from another age but the mess of cars parked on the streets soon spoils the mirage.
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| Views of Little Oddington |
Finally the dining hour arrives and we go to The Fox! The Right Fox! The glorious historic Inn with wonderful ambience, polite staff, and mouth watering menu. The Fox is redeemed and all is right with the world again.
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| Happy |
It is a fitting end to our stay in the Cotswolds. Tomorrow it is London and beyond.
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