Bit of Bath & Cotswolds Chipping Camden

I couldn’t not come back to the UK without popping to the place I felt was my home as soon as I saw it some 11 years ago… and strangely, although I’d only been here once, I remembered each street and nook and cranny. Knew where the restaurant was I frequented a decade ago, found Jane Austen’s house with ease.

There’s really nothing to report about Bath, other than… well, its Bath. And anyone vising the UK must pop in a visit, its simply stunning, warm, welcoming and quintessentially British.

The next day however… well… lets see.

I’ve been anxious about collecting my hire car for some time, on the plane to the UK, while in London and especially the night before collection. They said you needed a current credit card under your name in order to get the keys. I didn’t have a CC – furthermore, I’m not the kind of person who should ever HAVE a CC!

I’d called a week before and they reassured me my debit card would suffice, but… well… lets not forget my last travelling experience, I was prepared for the worst. So much so that I’d researched public transport methods to still complete my itinerary… and good thing I did to.

Taking a cab I came to Europcar. The woman was lovely, I handed over my bits, license, debit card, passport, had my final cash payment in my hot little hands. My anxiety was slowly dissolving, she went and got the keys… then looking at my license again she looked at me, enquiringly:

‘This the only license you have?’

How many licenses DO people usually have?

‘Ahh, yes’, I said, still oblivious to any other potential issues…

‘Only, its expired in 2017’

‘No no no’, I said non-chalantly, ‘it expires in 2020’, clearly she was reading the wrong part of the Australian license, a simple mistake – bless her.

She handed my license back to me, and there, staring up at me was the expiry date 13 Feb 2017…

‘Ohhhhhhhh’, I groaned… “fffiiioooonnnnaaaa”

The girls laughed in that, agreed this is a terrible situation, but its also a little bit funny, way.

Well it was either in China or in Australia, and regardless of WHERE it was, it appeared that I’d not be having my road trip around England after all, well, atleast not with my driving on the roads!

A deep breath was taken, a cab called, a trip to the train station and I was on my way… four hours, three trains, one bus and a taxi to get me to…

To… Chipping Campden – not so! I had booked a place outside the town (thinking I’d have a car), some 10 minutes’ drive or 1 hour walk away. An incredible property, but not conveniently located for a now public transport traveller.

Fortunately I got along quite well with the driver who took me to my accommodation, and she knew another driver who could drop me off and collect me from town this afternoon and evening, who knew another driver who could take me to Stratford-Upon-Avon tomorrow! What a perfectly wonderful network! 

CHIPPING CAMPDEN

So, finally I arrived in Chipping Campden. Now… just a side anecdote, when I got to the station in Bath I asked to get to Chipping…

“Chippingham?”

“No, just Chipping”

“That’s not a place”

“Ummm Chipping… Chipping… CHIPPING NORTON!” I announced, remembering my accommodation was called Norton Farm, therefore it must be Chipping Norton.

The woman gave me the tickets and directions and when I eventually got settled in my seat on the train I checked my Travel Folder… “Norton Farm” it said, and as I breathed a sigh of relief I took another quick gander at the address in order to get a cab to take me to the location…

Norton Farm… Chipping… CAMPDEN!

WHAT WHAT WHAT!!!

How many bloody Chippings are there? You invented the English language, name towns different NAMES!

My hands shaking, my nerves breaking, I got on my phone and bashed through my data trying to identify how to get from this train heading toward Chipping Norton… to another train that would head toward Chipping bloody Campden.

The beautiful English countryside was whooshing past me, while my head was down, fingers flailing on my phone attempting to find a solution.

Fortunately I was heading to Oxford, a hub of different train destinations and I was able to get another train from there and arrive closer to my required destination.

What a bloody kerfuffle!

HOWEVER… upon arriving at the farm-bed-breakfast stay, I realised every train ride, confusing moment, desire to just sit down on the cement and give up… was worth it. What a place. Built in the 1700’s this country manor included horse stables, paddocks and fields, the two and a half storey property only allowed for four B&B guests and tonight, I was the sole guest.

The main homestead was a honey-stoned house covered in blood red leaves, as you crossed the threshold you are met with the smell of previous fires and polished wood. The comfortable couches facing the hearth filled with fresh plucked orchids, the ancient oak dining table, the sunken ceiling and brass chandeliers.

It was like walking into a standing blanket of comfort.

Up the creaking original stair case I took a gander at the onsuite and… well… THE LONGEST BATH I’VE EVER SEEN! I knew I needed to take the opportunity to see the town, but good heavens it was hard pulling myself away from this place… not to worry, later that night… I ran a warm bubble bath and lay there like a lady, endlessly indulgent.

Chipping Campden itself, a delightful little town, and I mean little. About 30 minutes and you’ve circumnavigated the township, but to see the original thatch roofed buildings, the quaintness of the area, situated amongst rolling hills.

Again, it was worth the effort to get here.

I awoke early for a home made breakfast (and the BEST mushroom I’ve ever eaten) in order to enjoy the property, wander amongst the stables, listen to the whinnying horses, breath in all of the nature, before my driver arrived to take me to Stratford-Upon-Avon.