And finally, to prove to Dave I'm not dead...

We left home on Friday in persistent drizzle and it took about six hours to get to Oxfordshire. I've not been through the Cotswolds before, it's very pretty countryside and has some gorgous villages. The hotel was an old coaching inn, reputedly haunted by the ghost of a highwayman - his image was everywhere, looking backwards from his horse - so you would for example open the menu and be confronted with a large horse's arse. Nice.

The room was quite comfortable, albeit with a manky old blanket and mysterious stains on the bedspread - judging by the damp patch on the ceiling, they'd had a little accident at some point.

We descended to the bar for a pre-dinner drink - over £6 for two pints. Yeeouch. Still, managed to nab a couple of armchairs in the corner with the bookcase which was full of old editions of things like Keats, and My Family And Other Animals, and so on - the volume that caught my eye (no idea why) was King Solomon's Ring. Upon examination this turned out to be some kind of naturalist's treatise, but the chapter headings made me laugh - they included Pitying Animals and Laughing At Animals. Eh?

Dinner was served by a pretty French waitress and the tallest, thinnest waiter I've ever seen. Who tried to serve us someone else's soup, much to their indignation!

To start with we had pigeon salad with bacon lardons, pine nuts and raspberry jus (which met with my approval in the definition of the word salad stakes, in that it was minimal salad and lots of bits of meat). Never had pigeon before, but it was rather nice, quite dark, bit like venison. Also, overcooked, but hey ho.

For the main course, C. had rump steak with pink peppercorn sauce (which was brown - doesn't that rather defeat the object of using pink peppercorns?) and I had salmon on wilted spinach with langoustine sauce, which was rather violent orange and quite rich - we both agreed our courses were improved for scraping off the majority of the sauce heh. Also, could have done without the standard issue 'lump of cauliflower, pile of radioactive carrots and a few beans' on the side. But still, nice enough.

The raspberry mousse I had for dessert didn't really taste of anything though, on a sad and soggy sponge base. C. had strawberries and cream in a brandy snap basket, which seemed okay, and we had coffees and a very nice bottle of wine (actually in a big silver ice bucket on a stand, which I was possibly over excited about.)

Saturday was the day of the track thing. We started out with the breakfast buffet, where you can basically have whatever you want from huge trays of sausages and bacon and eggs and all sorts, or cereals, or fruit, or even danish pastries. I'd quite like a day in that room, actually...Oh, and the second tallest, thinnest waiter I've ever seen. I think they must be breeding them specially. This one looked like Egon from the Ghostbusters, and I kept expecting him to burst out of the kitchen with a powerpack on his back and Slimer wrapped round his head...

Anyway.

We eventually found the right airfield entrance, after bothering a big American security guard at the wrong one - please don't shoot us sir - and the airfield was ace, full of miles of creepy old deserted hangars. Just begging for an episode of the Avengers. The U Drive track day people were all together, so there were people waiting not only to drive the Caterham and Lotus that C. was booked in for, but also two red Ferraris, silver and yellow Porsches, and Subaru and Mitsubishi rally cars. The Lotus was the prettiest, but boy did the Ferrari make the best noise. If ever there was a noise that could be described as knicker-elastic-snapping, that would be it.

It was misty and cold and windy, but not actually raining which was good. C. went in the Lotus first and then the Caterham, for which he had to take off one of his shoes because the pedals are so close together! He was ranked 83% and 88% respectively, and did not stall (unlike one guy in the Porsche) or drive over the cones (like one guy in the Ferrarri) although he did get lost in the Lotus and get an extra lap out of it...

Afterwards we made our chilly way to Woodstock, and had a steak sandwich in the Marlborough Arms, having managed to bag the leather sofa in front of the log fire. Ahh....We had a walk round afterwards, it's an intensely pretty town full of shops selling shiny things at the price of small council houses. We were going to go into the grounds of Blenhiem Palace, but it was £7.50 for the privelege, so we decided bugger that and went instead to see the Rollrights Stone Circle which was amazing - such weird stones, all pitted and knarled. The sun was setting in a wintry sky (it was only about 3pm at this point!) and it was very peacful, we had the circle to ourselves, despite there having been other people milling about in the layby. We walked around the edge of the field to see the Whispering Knights, and then back over the road to see the King's Stone - very odd shape, gives the impression it's spinning, everything's at an odd angle.

Stopped off in Chipping Norton for a hot chocolate pitstop, then back to the hotel briefly before going in search of dinner. The original intention was to see if we could eat in the place we'd originially been booked ion to stay, as the menu had sounded good, but we couldn't find it in the dark, so follwing my beer radar, we ended up at the Crown and Tuns in Deddington, which is a pub that specialised in pies! It had a log fire, and decent beer (Old Hooky) and I had beef and ale pie. And chips. Mission successful.

Sunday - more breakfast buffet joy (and Egon) and then the trip back, mostly in the pouring rain - although Oxfordshire saw us out in style by snowing on us!!

Oh, and we parked next to an Aston Vantage in Exeter services...

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Kilpeck Church

Drove back to Cornwall, stopping off to see Kilpeck Church, particularly the sheela-na-gig carving. It's a beautiful, really peaceful spot and an amazing church to find tucked down a leafy little lane. Heard a cuckoo in the trees, first one I've heard for years and years.

Clun and the Waterdine

Our 1st wedding anniversary!

Walked around Clun, up to the castle and round the village. The castle is having work done on it, with men and scaffolding so didn't like to go too close and ferret around. Bought a couple of cards and a PD James in the antique shop, and walked up to the church. Looked at the ducks on the river (also the Clun) and took a picture of the 14th century packhorse bridge.

Drove down to Llanfair Waterdine to suss out where the restaurant is for this evening - just as well as we completely missed it the first time through, it having a teeny-tiny sign behind a climbing rose painted the same colour as the building.

Drove up through Leintwardine to Craven Arms and went into Harry Tuffins, which is the local supermarket chain. And I use the term 'local' advisedly. Mind you, it did have Blue Dragon oyster sauce which Cornwall appears to have stopped selling completely, so yay.

Back to the cottage for packing and clearing up before going out this evening. Made pasta to eat on the journey back tomorrow before realising that we actually have nothing to eat it *with*. Oops. Still, it'll do for dinner when we get back, yes?

Drove back to the Waterdine for seven thirty. It used to be an old pub and is several hundred years old. We were directed to armchairs in the bar area where we selected a bottle of wine (Argentinian Chardonnay. Which was excelent. What do you mean did I just point at the one that said chardonnay and wasn't the cheapest?). They brought us appetisers of a teeny tiny hot cheese biscuity thing, straight from the oven, and a puff pastry smoked salmon thing. And a little pot of olives.

The (female) owner appeared and proceeded to bray loudly and at length at the couple behind us (the only others in the bar, and I think they were staying there) about how she went to Anthony's villa in March and wasn't it simply wonderful. Now, fair play, she can talk about what she wants, but this was so loud we'd have had to raise our voices to talk ourselves. And there was /no/ other noise in the room, and she was standing just in front of them. And she didn't draw breath for five minutes. When the other couple's table was ready and they disappeared (not having been able to eat their appetisers due to being talked at) we heaved a sigh of relief. Then she reappeared and came to talk at to us. Mercifully shorter but just as loud, and obviously not actually interested in anything we had to say, just making her presence felt.

We moved into the dining room (lovely little vases of fresh wild and garden flowers everywhere). It was a reasonably small room, and there were two other couples besides us. Two. There was a deathly hush over the room for a lot of the evening. The couple in the far corner conversed occasionally in whispers, and the older posher couple behind us (think retired Major, in fact we'd decided the whole place was ideal for a episode of Midsommer Murders) talked at normal volume which I was immensely admiring of and Chris found very irritating. We sort of murmured on a level in between. But seriously, it could have done with some background music or something.

Our starters arrived - Chris had Cornish crab with crispy salad (which appered to be the small bits of cucumber and tomato on top of the crab tower). I had smoked haddock mousse with cucumber and dill. Now the salmon mousse we'd had at the cottage had been fantastic, and I suppose I was expecting something like that. What arrived, was a rounded mound of bright yellow something, in a lake of equally yellow something, all flecked with green dill strands (one of which I discovered plastered to a tooth much, much later). I took a bite. Only, it wasn't a bite, because this had the consistency of very wet scrambled egg. So fortunately (or I don't know what I'd have done, because it didn't come with anything) there was bread on the table, and I mopped it up with that. It was - yellow, is about all I can say. And slightly fishy. And the texture was truely foul.

So the mains arrived, I had confit of salmon (I'm not entirely sure what confit means*, but I'm reasonably certain it doesn't translate as 'a piece') with onion risotto and creamed leeks and saffron sauce. The first mouthful gave the impression of a rather chlorine-y taste, which I thought for a heartsinking moment was the fish, but tracked down to the saffron sauce. So the generously sized salmon was nice enough, and the (very) little mounds of creamed leeks were ok. The risotto was rather claggy and not the best I've ever had, but hey, it was edible.

Chris had loin of Gloucester Old Spot pork, which I thought was a bit tough and overdone, but he liked. Oh, the crackling was fantastic though. Celeriac mash, roast new potatoes and marjoram sauce. He gave it the seal of approval, but said there could have been more of it.

I had been going to have the crisp lemon tart with cassis sorbet, but when this was delivered to the couple behind us it looked like the sorbet was just a drizzle of purple round the outside. This obviously came as a surprise to the lady as well, as she queried it, and it turned out the waitress (or the chef, presumably, unless he'd gone to bed by this point) had forgotten it. So it arrived rather forlorn in a little metal cup. But I'd gone off the idea by then, and plumped for the iced strawberry parfait with strawberry and balsamic tart. The tart was a brandy snap basket with chopped strawberries (in a balsamic something, doubtless) and the parfait was indeed iced, so much so I thought I was going to break the plate getting the spoon through it. It was okay. The whole meal was okay, which is a shame, as at each point it had the potential to have been fantastic.

Chris had almond chocolate brownie with white chocolate ice cream, which disappeared reasonably fast so must have been good.

We went back to the bar/lounge for coffee, and were given squares of something dark chocolatey with bits of fruit in to go with it.

As soon as I'd put down my coffee cup the waitress/barmaid appeared and asked if we wanted anything else from the bar. I'd barely fnished saying no when she said 'oh I'll get you the bill then we can close up'. Erm. Okay, we'll be off then. Ten pm it was. Bye.

---
* Confit (French) is a generic term for various kinds of food that have been immersed in a substance for both flavor and preservation. Sealed and stored in a cool place, confit can last for several months, and can be reheated to extend its useful life. Well I'm fairly sure it wasn't that.

Hay on Wye

An hour's drive south to Hay on Wye today, second hand book capital of the country! The weather started off cooler and misty, but by the time we got there it was blazing hot again.

There really are dozens of bookshops here, and they're all twisty ones with mysterious staircases and musty basements. It's fantastic. And they're not just antiquarian/expensive ones either, there's all sorts. Bought six books from various places (a Clive Cussler, 2 Garth Nix, a Jeanette Winterson, a Janet Evanovich and 'A Fete Worse Than Death', which I've been trying to get hold of for over a year).

We had lunch in the beer garden of the Blue Boar, I had the cassoulet (which was £13 but not bad, although could have done without the over-boiled carrot strips piled on the top) and Chris had a tomato and cheese bap.

It was probably a very boring day for Chris, who spent most of it waiting outside various bookshops for me. But apparently he made friends with a dog and a cat, so that's alright then.

We've managed to coincide our visit with them doing something to the direct road from the cottages to Clun, meaning every morning and evening going to and fro, we have to do a big loopy detour. The diversion is only in place this week. Typical.

Shrewsbury Abbey

Today we headed north, to Shrewsbury, about 25 miles away. We parked opposite the Abbey, of which only the church of St Peter & St Paul remains. Our luck held in terms of avoiding inadvertant recitals, when we discovered that just as we arrived - 1pm on a Wednesday - should have been the start of a weekly free concert, but this week the organ was broken. We looked round - it houses part of the original shrine of St Winifred - and walked round the outside.

Walked across the bridge over the Severn into the town, of which much is timber framed. Very busy with traffic but very pretty, and a lot of shops.

Stopped off at The Old Post Office pub for a drink - sat outside in a little courtyard surronded by timber framed buildings. Moved on to look round the town - bought postcards. The museum was closed (for much of 2007), annoyingly.

Walked up to the castle - the later (Civil War) castle houses the Shropshire regimental museum, but you can go up to Laura's Tower which is a little turretty thing on the site of the original castle mound without paying the entrance fee. This has spectacular views to the north and east, including the Abbey.

Walked back through town along St Mary's and stopped at Cloisters teashop on Wyle Cop for a very nice piece of homemade coffee cake (me) and a good plate of BLT sandwiches (Chris). It was sweltering hot in there in the sun, so much so the icing was melting on my cake! (and no, that's not a euphemism).

Back to Clun by about five. Wilbur and Myrtle from the Bothy have been replaced by another couple and bugger me if this bloke wasn't sat outside staring at us too. He continued staring until I stood in the window and stared back, at which point he found something terribly interesting in his paper.

Have run out of wine. Cock.

Hereford

Cloudless blue sky today, and really hot. Took the back roads south towards Hereford, through places called things like New Invention (and on the way home, Evenjobb. Wanted to know if there was a twin town called Oddjob). East of Leominster, through Bishop's Frome (saw an oasthouse but no hop bines) and Much Cowarne. Lots of orchards laid out around here, many of them relatively new. Lots of apple blossom blowing in the breeze.

Into Hereford and we headed for the cathedral cloisters coffee shop. Had a nice pot of tea, and I had a slice of strawberry cheescake. Good selection of homemade cakes available. We were sat in the sunny cloisters courtyard polishing these off, when who walks out of the cafe door but someone from work! "And I thought Cornwall was small!" he said.

Looked round the cathedral - walked right into an organ recital, which sounded spectacularly discordant and awful. A piece by John Challenger according to the leaflet thrust into my hand by the little man on the door (who also said "don't worry it's almost finished" heh).

Found the crypt and the tomb of St Thomas Cantilupe, and one of the chapels has new stained glass celebrating the life and works of Thomas Traherne.

Walked round the outside again, vaguely wondering where the chained library was. I hadn't known there was one, but then saw a sign, and now I wanted to find it. While I was surreptitiously staring at the Bishop's Palace gatehouse, eventually spotted a sign pointing to the chained library again, which turns out to be through the cafe and out the other side. £4.90 to look. And they don't even show you any of the books. They did have a copy of the prophecies of Merlin though. It's the biggest one in the country apparently, as the gnome in residence told us proudly (the library, not the prophecies). We also saw some medieval book chests that the bishops travelled around with. Oh, and the Mappa Mundi.

Walked past the Green Dragon Hotel, (that looked a bit too posh to wander into dressed as scruffs) and had a look round the musuem, which was small but free. And had a piece of 14th century human skin that had once been nailed to a church door. Bonus.

Wandered around the shops, found a good cheap second hand bookshop, bought a copy of Superstitions of the Countryside for 80p.

Made our way back to the car, bought monster ice creams - mine was a scoop of summer fruits (blackcurrant & raspberry) and a scoop of elderflower, and Chris had a scoop of blackberry & apple and a scoop of vanilla.

Drove back through Kington and Knighton, along the edge of Radnor Forest. Lots of bluebells up here, not a sign of the white pests littering Cornwall.

It's half past seven as I'm writing this, and it's still bright sunshine and blue skies. Bloody windy this far up the hill though, and our patio bit doesn't get the evening sun which is a shame.

Mouse on toast for supper. Oh alright, smoked salmon mousse then, compliments of the house.

Dolforwyn Castle & Mitchell's Fold Stone Circle

Lost the morning due to waking up with a migraine. Ugh.

Ventured out around lunchtime, the weather being too good to waste. Over the border into Wales today, and up to Dolforwyn Castle. Spectacular views and no one else there until we left, which was great. Built in the 1270's. Dug up again more recently by York University...

Went in search of Mitchell's Fold stone circle next. Note to self: check the map before taking the first likely looking footpath, otherwise you will lead your expedition up the wrong hill and be left glaring at the stone circle perched irritatingly on the next hill over, with something of a large drop in between you and it.

Still, we got there eventually, and had it to ourselves. It's a Bronze age circle, of around 15 stones (from a possible original 30) remaining. Spectacular views from up on the hills, and the winding lanes are full of birds and flowers. And the occasional coach. Eek.

Got back around 5pm and had hot chocolate and Yorkshire tea loaf. Had the remains of the meatballs transformed into a pasta sauce for dinner.

Stokesay Castle and Ludlow

In the cottage across from us are an older couple who were sat outside the previous evening - went to the window in the bedroom this morning to find him standing outside the door gawping up at me while munching his cereal, which was a bit off putting. I may have to buy a gun.

Had a fry up to fortify ourselves for our first expedition - the bacon was from the Wenlock Edge Farm and was smashing, and the local eggs were lovely too.
We are placed just outside the edge of the forest, and the garden is full of birds.
Went outside to say hello to the small yapper-type dog who was seeing off someone walking past on the bridleway. This appears to be Hetty. Sweet little thing, despite the barking.

After having both managed to concuss ourselves on the low-hanging, extremely solid glass lightshade over the table, the first stop of the day was Stokesay Castle. A fortified 13th century manorhouse with great hall and stone tower, this was a terrific place. The rooms are full of swallows darting in and out of the open stone windows and you can wander about as you like.

We were equipped with audio guides, which I hate, it means you're surrounded by people with things clamped to their ear and the hiss of other peoples' commentaries like walkmans on the train (or is it iPods these days, I dunno). Fortunately I had the guide book which was quite enough. You can also walk round the moat which we did - it was full of lilacs and apple blossom.

We then had a cream tea (well I did, what do you mean it was only just gone lunchtime?). Which was nice, although they're not going to bankrupt themselves by being over-generous with the jam.

Next stop Ludlow, which seems to be predominently made up of shops selling posh antiquey things for doing up your house - like the contents of the average Edwardian scullery at five hunderd times the price. It's very pretty though, lots of black-and-white timber framing. We only had two hours so did a fast tour of the castle and still had time for a beer, an ice cream and a trip round Tescos. Oh yes. No slacking on this holiday.

Ludlow castle is officially the bestest castle I have ever been in, it is full of spiral staircases and creepy rooms down dark passages and a huge keep you can go all the way to the top of. I thoroughly approve. And nobody made me take an audioguide either.

Having eyed up the large collection of motorbikes parked outside the castle gate,
we went into the Chocolate Experience to have ice creams - I had blackcurrant and cream and Chris had cappuccino and moccha swirl. We sat on a bench round the corner and talked to what I like to think was the castle cat.

Quick detour into Ye Olde Bull Pen Tavern (yes, I'm a sucker for timber framing) for a swift half and then it was Tescos for a bag of assorted breakfast pig products and off in seach of petrol.

The hedgerows are lovely at this time of year, full of flowers, and occasionally you can see a pair of ears sticking up from amongst the dandelions and then see a little rabbit peeking out at you (or, judging by the frequent state of the roads, flinging itself under your wheels, but that's not quite the Beatrix Potter image I was going for).

Oh, and on the topic of roadsigns, which we weren't - they're not very complimentary about their saints round here - so far we've been told that St Owen's cross and St Mary's round (oh, please yourselves. It made me laugh).
Back home to consult the maps for tomorrow's venture. And to try the Tyrrell's sausage and mustard crisps. Take a tip, don't. They're minging.

Tonight's supper was also brought to the door, green Thai chicken curry, very nice.

What I did on my holidays, part 1...

Left Falmouth at 10:00, and had hot, hazy weather all the way up. Stopped off at Exeter services for coffee (remembered to pack the flask which was a good start, last year I left it sitting on the dining table). Brought food with us too - cold pizza and pork pie, the long-distance navigator's snacking of choice...

Two red Ferrarris zoomed past on the next stretch, which was a lot less galling than the point we were overtaken by a phlegm-yellow Smart car...

Stopped again for a pee at Gordano services - their loos are painted a radioactive bubblegum lime/yellow and their lights flicker. Eww.

Went over the Avonmouth Bridge which was fun (although the barrier is at head height so you can't see much other than mud). Still, the bridge is impressive. £5.10 toll to let you into Wales.

Drove through Monmouth (right through it, due to a slight miscalculation in navigatory directions, as I was scrabbling for a Fleetwood Mac tape as we were going through a tunnel: "Yeah, turn off here". Er, or not. Still, it was a very nice town, very bustle-y and pretty in the sunshine - felt a bit like Helston in looks/structure.

Back on route as far as the directions went, and it was north through Hereford and then past Leominster and Ludlow. The hills draw in on you, and you start imagining bandits. Well, I do...

Turning off the main road at Craven Arms (a town rather than a pub) it was about another eight miles to Clun (through Clunton - a town sign crying out for tippex abuse if ever there was one.)

After a bit of a false turning we eventually found the cottages at 16:30 and were greeted by the owners (Sue and Peter Murray) and their two dogs (Hetty and Jasmine. Little and large, but I don't know which one's which yet.)

There are three cottages, of which ours is Keeper's Cottage, and has its entrance further away from the others, which is good. Not that I'm antisocial or anything. Much.

Made of local stone (very local, the quarry is somewhere on this hillside) it's a relatively recent build, and is absolutely fantastic.

Downstairs has a very nice living/dining area with a well equipped kitchen at the end, and upstairs there is a lovely bedroom with bathroom off, in its own little room built out over the porch with a slipper bath.

Only quibble so far (no, I am never entirely happy, so sue me) is that there is no lock on the bathroom door - not *such* a problem, only there is no catch whatsoever. So it just sort of rests in the doorframe and swings gradually open. No, I know I'm not sharing the house with a horde of strangers but I like to be able to at least close the door. On the plus side, you can take your mind off this while sat on the loo by watching the rabbits frolic in the field opposite.

We have fabulous views down into the valley - one of the bedroom windows looks west and gets the setting sun - you can see right down to where Clun nestles in the valley - and if ever a town nestled anywhere, this most definitely does.

I had ordered eggs and milk, but we were also provided with complimentary local bacon, smoked salmon mousse, bread, Tyrrells sausage and mustard crips, and a small Victoria sponge cake (the latter of which we've already eaten).
At half seven, Sue brought our first ordered meal to the door - spicy meatballs with tagliatelle. How civilised's that!

We were too knackered to do much after dinner, other than drink wine and play cards - went to bed at ten. The valley was quite bright with moonlight.