The Meliza Girls Do The Cotswolds: The Slaughters, Bath, and Blandford Forum
One eye opened blearily and squinted at the readout. Stupid o'clock. Just like I thought. I wacked a hand over the snooze button. How many hours sleep had I gotten? Two? Three?
5:30 am isn't my best time of morning. I grabbed a towel and stumbled to the bathroom, mentally apologizing to my flatmates for being up at such a ridiculously early hour.
An hour later having showered, dressed, and slapped on some war paint, I was headed to King's Cross Station. There's just something so... I don't know... magical about train stations in London. Like you expect to bump into Hercule Poirot tapping his way to platform 1, or Harry Potter headed for platform 9 3/4.
I found a coffee shop and had breakfast and a Very Large Latte. You can always trust a train station to have plenty of Very Large Lattes available.
I boarded the 7:55 to Moreton-in-Marsh and settled in for the hour and a half journey. What is it about train journeys that inspire one to pack enough junk food and bottled beverages to feed and water a small army? As though the train is suddenly going to pull a Murder on the Orient Express and get stuck in a snow drift. In September. Without food. Riiight.
The train arrived in the Moreton station at promptly 9:25 am. Probably the only train in the whole of England that is prompt. But it was certainly a pleasant change.
The aunts were awaiting me at the station and Lili was kind enough to allow Shirley and myself a brief potty break. Though the next few hours would prove that Shirley should never be allowed a potty break again.
You see, the plan had been to drive direct to Lower Slaughter for a mile hike to Upper Slaughter and then back (Rick Steves proclaiming this one of the prettiest walks in England - he was not wrong.) after which we would head to Some Other Town with a funny name and partake of lunch on the River. After lunch we were to hit Bath and then zip down to Blandford Forum for tea with Shirley's relatives.
The plan went immediately awry on arrival in Lower Slaughter (Not an axe murder in sight.). Lili and I hauled ourselves out of the rental car and waited for Shirley. And waited. And waited. It become alarmingly clear that she was looking for Something and that the Something was nowhere to be found. I had a Bad Feeling. Said Bad Feeling was confirmed by Shirley's admission she was looking for her camera. The camera that had been dangling from her wrist when she went to the loo. The camera that should couldn't remember bringing back to the car. The camera that neither Lili nor I could find anywhere in the car. I knew then. She'd left it in the loo. Shirley was all for going back immediately. Lili refused to return to Moreton until we'd taken our walk.
And a beautiful walk it was! Absolutely breathtaking. The church in Upper Slaughter turned out to be from Norman times (tre cool!) and had a beautiful water thingy. You know, that holds the holy water and they splash themselves with? One of those. It was easily classed as Really Old Stuff. And you know me and Really Old Stuff.
Turned out Lili had made an excellent decision as it began to pour on the way back. After wading through a gaggle of German tourists, we made it back to the car and retraced our steps to Moreton Station. Naturally the ladies room held no digital cameras of any kind, but a quick visit to the ticket office revealed that some incredibly honest person had turned in the camera. Lili and I informed Shirley she was no longer allowed to enter any loos without first handing her camera to one of us.
On the road again, there was no time to hit the riverside restaurant for a nice meal, so we hit Tesco. Instead of a riverside table, we had a picnic in the car with a nice view of the parking lot. But the food wasn't bad.
Only an hour behind schedule we zoomed off to Bath. We only had time for a poke about a snazzy old church in search of a loo, a visit to my favourite chocolate shop (as blogged about in my Bath bloggs of a year and a half ago) and a quick zip through the Roman Baths (which are full of Really Old Stuff and still haven't lost their lustre). I grew rather nostalgic, I'm afraid.
On to Blandford Forum only to discover that a) Sue (the relative) had a doctor's appointment and wouldn't be able to meet us for an hour and b) she had to work and couldn't do tea anyway. We ended up not getting to her house until after 7 pm and I think we were about gnawing each other's arms off. Sue's son, Andrew, kindly drove me into town so I could get kebabs all around. I managed to mess up the order and get the wrong kebabs for everyone, but they were still incredibly tasty.
We hit the hay at a semi-reasonable hour (myself being pretty much dead on my feet). Next up: Salisbury, Winchester, and Avebury!
5:30 am isn't my best time of morning. I grabbed a towel and stumbled to the bathroom, mentally apologizing to my flatmates for being up at such a ridiculously early hour.
An hour later having showered, dressed, and slapped on some war paint, I was headed to King's Cross Station. There's just something so... I don't know... magical about train stations in London. Like you expect to bump into Hercule Poirot tapping his way to platform 1, or Harry Potter headed for platform 9 3/4.
I found a coffee shop and had breakfast and a Very Large Latte. You can always trust a train station to have plenty of Very Large Lattes available.
I boarded the 7:55 to Moreton-in-Marsh and settled in for the hour and a half journey. What is it about train journeys that inspire one to pack enough junk food and bottled beverages to feed and water a small army? As though the train is suddenly going to pull a Murder on the Orient Express and get stuck in a snow drift. In September. Without food. Riiight.
The train arrived in the Moreton station at promptly 9:25 am. Probably the only train in the whole of England that is prompt. But it was certainly a pleasant change.
The aunts were awaiting me at the station and Lili was kind enough to allow Shirley and myself a brief potty break. Though the next few hours would prove that Shirley should never be allowed a potty break again.
You see, the plan had been to drive direct to Lower Slaughter for a mile hike to Upper Slaughter and then back (Rick Steves proclaiming this one of the prettiest walks in England - he was not wrong.) after which we would head to Some Other Town with a funny name and partake of lunch on the River. After lunch we were to hit Bath and then zip down to Blandford Forum for tea with Shirley's relatives.
The plan went immediately awry on arrival in Lower Slaughter (Not an axe murder in sight.). Lili and I hauled ourselves out of the rental car and waited for Shirley. And waited. And waited. It become alarmingly clear that she was looking for Something and that the Something was nowhere to be found. I had a Bad Feeling. Said Bad Feeling was confirmed by Shirley's admission she was looking for her camera. The camera that had been dangling from her wrist when she went to the loo. The camera that should couldn't remember bringing back to the car. The camera that neither Lili nor I could find anywhere in the car. I knew then. She'd left it in the loo. Shirley was all for going back immediately. Lili refused to return to Moreton until we'd taken our walk.
And a beautiful walk it was! Absolutely breathtaking. The church in Upper Slaughter turned out to be from Norman times (tre cool!) and had a beautiful water thingy. You know, that holds the holy water and they splash themselves with? One of those. It was easily classed as Really Old Stuff. And you know me and Really Old Stuff.
Turned out Lili had made an excellent decision as it began to pour on the way back. After wading through a gaggle of German tourists, we made it back to the car and retraced our steps to Moreton Station. Naturally the ladies room held no digital cameras of any kind, but a quick visit to the ticket office revealed that some incredibly honest person had turned in the camera. Lili and I informed Shirley she was no longer allowed to enter any loos without first handing her camera to one of us.
On the road again, there was no time to hit the riverside restaurant for a nice meal, so we hit Tesco. Instead of a riverside table, we had a picnic in the car with a nice view of the parking lot. But the food wasn't bad.
Only an hour behind schedule we zoomed off to Bath. We only had time for a poke about a snazzy old church in search of a loo, a visit to my favourite chocolate shop (as blogged about in my Bath bloggs of a year and a half ago) and a quick zip through the Roman Baths (which are full of Really Old Stuff and still haven't lost their lustre). I grew rather nostalgic, I'm afraid.
On to Blandford Forum only to discover that a) Sue (the relative) had a doctor's appointment and wouldn't be able to meet us for an hour and b) she had to work and couldn't do tea anyway. We ended up not getting to her house until after 7 pm and I think we were about gnawing each other's arms off. Sue's son, Andrew, kindly drove me into town so I could get kebabs all around. I managed to mess up the order and get the wrong kebabs for everyone, but they were still incredibly tasty.
We hit the hay at a semi-reasonable hour (myself being pretty much dead on my feet). Next up: Salisbury, Winchester, and Avebury!
posted by SheaLuna | 2:34 PM
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