When you walk in the Cotswolds or anywhere else in England for that matter you greet your fellow walkers, or even speak with them. Well, come to think of it you do this on trails in other countries too, even in Norway. It's the unwritten rule of hikers.
Less normal probably is that you befriend your fellow hikers. Tove and I did - we met two American girls who were walking the same distances as us - though only half the total distance - and were staying in more or less the same B&Bs and hotels. Our experiences over the five days that our paths (literally) crossed were exactly the same: Rain or sun, bulls in fields, steepness of hills, walking sticks or not, blisters, sore knee, badly signposted paths but isn't it gorgeous, what's your room like etc, etc. Jan and Tanya from Mississippi became our friends.
I know I talk as if I did walk all the time, which of course is not true! But I did take part in the above conversations with great enthusiasm! On leaving Winchcombe Jan decided to take a day off too (but as opposed to me she'd been walking two whole days), and in pouring rain we got the bus into Cheltenham and a taxi from there to the suburb of Charlton Kings. Jan found her hotel and I found our B&B, Detmore House. Bed and Breakfast? It was more like a hotel, but with only four rooms - called Oak, Beech, Walnut and Maple. Ours was the Maple Room, and it was pure luxury. The snag about arriving early by car was that our accommodation was not usually open for check-in, but I peered through the front door and saw that our bags had arrived. They were collected every morning by 9.30 and driven to the next overnight place.
The following morning Tove and I were joined at the breakfast table by a middle-aged couple who sounded Scottish. "What shall we do today?" the wife asked her husband. "Well, the same as yesterday," he replied. "Eat and drink."
No hiking there then.
Detmore House
The Maple Room
Sitting room for the Detmore House guests
The Pittville Pump Room in Cheltenham
I have friends all over the world, so what's more natural for me than boasting of an old friend in the Cotswolds? Because my knee was hurting so much and I still didn't know exactly what was wrong with it, my friend suggested I go see the famous osteopath Mark Lester in Cheltenham. Famous for osteopathy? I think not, though he seemed to know very well what he was doing, taking one look and a feel and proclaiming torn ligament, then covering my knee with suction cups and electricity and sticking pins into me.
Well, as a matter of fact, Mark Lester is famous! For what you may ask. For being a close friend of Michael Jackson's and a child actor and leading star of the musical "Oliver!" from 1968! Lying there on his bench with my David Bowie dress pulled up high I was a bit apprehensive that he would burst into song: "Consider yourself at home, consider yourself one of the family! I've taken to you so strong, it's clear we're going to get along!"
After the superstar treatment in Cheltenham it was back to the next Cotswold village and time for a meal and great conversation in the warm evening sunlight on the terrace of the The Royal George Hotel in Birdlip with Tove, Jan and Tanya, and a good night's sleep. I decided the following day that I'd try a bit of walking again. I was sure that Mark Lester's needles had helped! But this time I had found out where there were bus stations, and an 8 kilometre walk was more than enough!
Again we found that hiking is an excellent way of getting to know people. A bit lost in the woods after Birdlip - the Cotswold Way's characteristic acorn signs were sometimes hidden behind leaves, sometimes a bit bewildering - we met young Jemima sporting the English countryside uniform of summer dress and wellies, walking her beautiful red Hungarian Vizla dog. There really weren't that many people out and about on the trail, so asking for help to find the right way couldn't be taken for granted. But Jemima walked with us for quite a while and in that time we learnt a lot about her and her husband, her two children, their schools, their moving around England because of the husband's military work, their settling in the Cotswolds due to inheriting a house there. "Oooo, lucky you living here," we said. "Yes and no," she replied. "Quiet, dark and boring in winter." Well, yes. In her early thirties probably, I could see her point.
Seeing Tove walk away after the bus stop onto the second half of the trail, I waited 50 minutes for the bus. Arriving at our new destination - the idyllic town of Painswick - I checked into our room at the Falcon Inn only a few minutes before she arrived. Painswick was a wool merchant and weavers' town in the 18th century, but is mentioned as far back as 1086 in the Domesday Book. It's THE typical English village - a postcard basically. So incredibly picturesque! Our lovely room at the Falcon Inn - an inn dating back to 1554 - looked across at the grounds of St Mary's Church and its 99 yew trees. The Devil won't let the 100th one grow, according to legend.
That afternoon in Painswick we could feel the weather changing, becoming warm, no, hot - and we spent hours on the benches in the backyard terrace of the Inn, drinking dry draught cider, watching how the entire owner family pulled together to plant flowers and decorate the outside area beautifully. I think Tove and I covered all the poignant verbs written on the Falcon Inn Wall and I finally cried a bit for my huge loss and my grief and my thirty-second wedding anniversary coming up in just a couple of days. Tove let me cry and I thought - this is what friends are for.
Tove's bed
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