Jon Jermey's Travel Blog

One more Full English breakfast from the buffet, and I headed out to the station to take a train to Cardiff. I missed the first one by about thirty seconds, so I had to wait half an hour, which gave me time to read the historical signage around the station. This was taken from a number of different sources, and seems to have been compiled at different times under different conditions, so it's hard to extract a coherent narrative, but basically the station was built on reclaimed land by Brunel, and parts of it were then sold off and bought back again. At the moment most of it seems to be held up by scaffolding. And like Gloucester, it has several sub-platforms along the length of the one long platform.  The train was relatively empty and fairly quick, stopping only at a couple of regional stations before taking the tunnel under the Severn into Wales, where it stopped at Newport and Cardiff. Wales has its own regional railway system, and of course the signs here all appear in two lan

 I checked out of the hotel in Bath and walked to the station just in time to catch the train to Bristol. Lots of Brits complain about the train system here, but compared to Australia it's an absolute dream; half an hour between trains is about the most I have ever had to wait, and they have always been within a few minutes of time. The daft segregation into local private companies makes it a bit of a pain to use, but in general it all seems to work well. Anyway, I was in Bristol twenty minutes later, and after a wrong turn at the railway station I reached the hotel by about ten. I had planned to just leave my bag, but they were happy to provide me with a room for no extra cost, so I ended up on the 7th floor, in a quiet corner, with a large warm room and a grand view over the skyscraper construction crew working next door. Yesterday afternoon they poured the concrete for the whole floor, which was fascinating to watch.  Out again then to walk up through Bristol to the museum and a

 After breakfast I made my way up to the north end of town, carrying two bags of dirty washing, to find a laundromat called the Dolly Tub. It was in a quiet courtyard and nearly deserted, though one person did pop in while I was there. Luckily I had been saving pound coins, and had just enough for a wash and dry. I brought the clothes back to the hotel, intending to go out again to the same area and visit the museum at Royal Crescent, but a quick check online showed that they weren't taking any more bookings, so instead I walked out to the south-east intending to explore Prior Park, where I had failed to find parking on Tuesday. After crossing the Avon and going under the railway I found myself in the less salubrious part of Bath, following narrow streets past slightly run-down housing projects, but in a few minutes I was out in the country again, in a place called Perrymead. I passed the Paragon School and turned off to visit St Thomas's Church, which was built in the 11th cen

 After a buffet breakfast I went out to visit the Roman Baths. At 9:30 I was early enough to beat the rush, but people soon came crowding in, and I was glad once again not to be here in tourist season. Glenda and I did the tour in 2007, but I remember nothing of it, and they have revamped the buildings a bit, so it's a bit different anyway. It's not a particularly large structure in itself, but they hand out free audio guide devices, which tends to slow down your progress as you listen to the narrative.  So it took about an hour and a half over all to wander through the history of the baths, their construction, the local archaeology and so on. The bath itself is the centrepiece, but nobody showed any interest in swimming in the warm green oily water. A slight smell of sulphur pervades the area, and you can see the water in the supply pool bubbling up from the hot springs. There was a temple attached to the baths in Roman times, and they have managed to reconstruct some of it, a

 Tolldown's full English breakfast at the Crown was less generous than most other places, with only one small slice of toast and a single egg, but it was adequate, and I set out for the drive towards Bath in bright sunshine and a good mood -- which abated as I wrestled with the traffic. I had decided to come in obliquely via the large recreation areas to the south-east of Bath, but even getting there involved lots of narrow roads, up and down hills, one-way traffic lights for roadworks, and crossing the centre line to get around parked cars. On the way I drove through Bathhampton, which is where Arthur Phillip came from, and is buried, though I didn't know it at the time. This is also where they have a genuine private toll bridge, with two collectors holding out a bag and getting GBP1 from every car that comes through. At about 9:30 I reached my first destination, the American Museum, set up on the outskirts of Bath by yet another couple of rich gay Americans. This claims to be

The last few days have ben focussed on a fairly small area, so I've been crossing and re-crossing my tracks a fair bit. Our daily dose of sunshine ended this morning at about 8 am, so after my full English breakfast I drove to Yate station in the rain to take the train to Gloucester. I parked in what appeared to be a free car park; and so it proved to be, although the eagerness of others to take advantage of it made it very difficult for me to squeeze out of it again at the end of the day: if I hadn't had eight days' practice I probably wouldn't have made it without denting something. The official station car park was nearby, but I didn't have time to move the car before the hourly Gloucester train arrived. For some insane reason the platforms aren't parallel; to catch the northbound train you have to leave the station, climb some steps, cross a busy road at a traffic light and go down the other side, so I am glad I left enough time. The train ride was smooth, t

First day without a cooked breakfast, which is apparently the custom of the inn. I didn't press the point, because they had plenty of muesli and yoghurt and pastries. After that I began the day with a climb up Wotton Hill, which gives a good view of the town and the surrounding areas. Then I looked around the town a little -- it's not especially interesting -- before filling up with petrol and heading south to the Somerset Monument. This is a huge tower erected on a hilltop in 1846 to commemorate Lord Edward Robert Somerset, who had died four years previously. He was a general and an MP, but why the Duke of Beaufort chose to commemorate him in particular nobody seems to know. The monument is on private land, and fenced off, with a tiny parking spot nearby, and though you can walk around it on a footpath, you can't get close. On then to Dyrham Park, yet another stately home surrounded by gardens. This one's in a valley, so you can walk there along the ridge top and get a

 Our hosts thought it would be nice to have their two guests seated across from each other at breakfast, so I had some awkward conversation with an English woman who clearly didn't give a hoot. The hosts themselves were very nice, though. I started the day with a walk to the other side of the village -- or the next village; they don't seem very sure about where their villages begin and end here -- to the cheese vending machine at Godsells farm. This was apparently set up during COVID as a contact-free way to sell their products, and includes a refrigerated milk dispenser. Not cheap, but novel. So I bought some wrapped Gloucester and walked back through the village/s to the car. Next stop was Selsey Common, on top of a plateau. This is the broad open space that I drove through yesterday. It takes in various archaelological sites and burial mounds, but is bisected by a fairly busy road. There is a gliding school nearby, and a glider was swooping overhead, and dropping parachuted

 The bed and breakfast business in England seems to be largely run by elderly men with big houses, while their spouses go out and enjoy themselves. Greg provided the obligatory cooked breakfast while his wife popped in to say goodbye, and I met the other two singles staying there; an English man completing a walk that he had started in pre-COVID times, and a Canadian woman who is apparently doing the whole Cotswolds Way by herself. At ten to ten I walked up out of town to the Rococo Gardens, a nicely laid-out garden in a small valley with a plant nursery next door. And the obligatory second-hand books for sale in one of the pavilions. I was tempted by some Paul Temple paperbacks, but I decided that I didn't need the weight. Even with a car, there is some substantial hauling of luggage up and down stairs to be done. The gardens were nice enough, but the open-air cafe seating didn't look very inviting in what had become a moderate drizzle, so I returned to the car and drove to Ci

 A sunny day for once, though still blowy. I avoided the major road out of Birdlip and took the smallest, windiest road I have been on so far through Brimpsfield and Caudle Green to Winstone, where -- according to Google Maps -- Neigh Bridge County Park is located. They're all nice villages, with lots of old houses made of a darker stone than those further north -- granite, perhaps. And there are footpaths running just about everywhere, through fields and farmyards and people's back gardens; but no Neigh Bridge County Park. I even consulted with a couple of locals, and they had never heard of it. Later I checked and found it was in Cirencester, further south; so Google have mucked me up again.  From there I drove on to somewhere that really was where it was supposed to be -- the little village of Miserden. I came to visit the formal garden, which was laid out really nicely, with avenues of hedges and flowering plants. This is, or was, part of the estate for a big manor house lo

 I had planned to drive into Cheltenham to get a new stick, or try and get mine repaired, but my hostess at Cleeve Hill Hotel had one that some other traveller had left behind, and kindly gave it to me, so I replanned my day. The first job was to climb the hill, via a gate at the back of the hotel. It's the highest peak in the Cotswolds, and there are impressive views from the top; and also a gale force wind. It looks quite savage and impressive as you toil upwards, but when you get to the top there are machines cutting the grass, and a golf course. There even seemed to be people playing golf, although the wind would have surely made it a futile exercise. Lots of walkers, too, mostly with dogs. I strolled around and found a summit marker, then made my way gingerly back down and to the car. I began by retracing my drive around and on to a tiny road which passed something called Beras Knap. Not knowing what a 'knap' was, apart from in the flint-making context, I pulled off, a

 Left the Bantam Tearooms -- the only place so far I've stayed more than one night where my room was done out during the day without my asking -- and drove up to Dover's Hill to see what the view looked like under sunshine. Yes, the sun is shining, but there is still a brisk wind. Headed south then towards Winchcombe, where the next two attractions are. The first is the Gloucestershire -- Warwickshire Steam Railway, which runs for about 30k along an otherwise disused track from Broadway to Cheltenham racecourse. Winchcombe is in the middle, and trains run from here both ways.  The volunteer staff had been delayed due to a fatal crash blocking the M4 motorway, and so I was just in time to hop on the first train, to Cheltenham. The carriages came from the 50s and 60s, and there was a compartment carriage at the rear that I came back on. We didn't go very fast or very far, but it was magical to go through tunnels and under bridges and see the steam from the loco swirling aroun

 Breakfast is served late here, and mindful of the problems I have had with the Full English, I settled for poached eggs and avocado on toast. It was about 9.30 when I set out for a day around Chipping Campden, but since the sky is covered in clouds and looks exactly the same from 6 AM to 6 PM anyway, and the temperature remains the same at around 13 degrees, the time of day really doesn't matter, apart from my ensuring that things are open when I get there. I found a pharmacist and bought some calamine lotion for my face and neck -- not the smelly pink liquid in a bottle, but an aqueous solution in cream. A very cursory survey of pharmacies here suggests to me that they don't have the same range of items as we do -- for instance, I was unable to buy urea cream elsewhere. But this stuff is helping to relieve the irritation. Then I walked out along a loop track through Broad Campden, and across the sheep fields back to the road. It's lambing season, and most of the sheep hav

Another full English breakfast, which turned out to be rather too much on top of the fish and chips last night. Then off from the muddy parking lot at the back of the guest house and away in the direction of Chipping Camden -- which I had never heard of before, but which seems to be a major hub for Cotswolds exploraration, as well as a busy town. I drove first to the Greenway, which you can park for access to the Cotswolds Way, and walked from there, over a historic bridge, most of the way back to Stratford.  The bridge was there to carry a railway, now disused and pulled up, and at the other end of my walk, beyond the car park, there was a nice little cafe in a couple of train carriages, where I had a coffee. Lots of locals walking and cycling on this stretch, many of them with dogs. Got back to the car to find I had lost the tightening screw for my hiking pole; so unless I can find it or buy a replacement, I will have to buy a second-hand walking stick. Then to Hidcote, an extensive

 I checked out of the hotel and walked with my bag to the Europecar hire yard, just outside of town and near Spon End, where I had walked before. A very busy bald man with a gloomy demeanour took my details and decanted me into a little Fiat 500, with gears, which I did my best to master on the short trip to a nearby laundromat. The car wasn't so bad, but with all the various detours and roadworks that didn't show up on the GPS, it was a fairly harrowing trip. Luckily there was parking near the laundry -- I'm getting quite adept at parking with my wheels up on the kerb, like they do here -- and I went in to do my load. There was another customer there already, and the Indian proprietor was in residence, and able to give me some change, so I did the washing and then put them in the dryer, which took 50p coins. I learnt afterwards that I should have given them an extra spin in a super-duper centrifuge machine first, but they came out all right, and then it was ho! for Stratfo

 My windburn is no better, which leads me to think that the moisturizer I am using may be making it worse. I will try and find an alternative tomorrow. And the laptop has died again, so postings may be short unless it recovers. Went into Birmingham today by train, getting out at the massive new New Street Station in the middle of town. There is a big museum and art gallery here, but it's closed for maintenance, so I had decided instead to go and see The Backs, a historical re-creation of six back-to-back houses in what was one of the poorer sections of town. Most of these have been demolished, but they saved these ones just in time.  I wasn't able to get in for the morning session, so I booked for 2.30 and went off to find the Science Museum, further out of town. This took me through some very desolate industrial wastelands, and eventually to a blocked road, but I was able to get through by following a path along -- you guessed it -- a canal. I can't escape the damned thing

 After walking through the wind yesterday morning I woke up with a bad case of windburn. The skin of my neck is red and chapped, I feel like I have been sandblasted, and even my eyelids hurt. There doesn't seem to be any blistering, but it's a scary confirmation of just how raw the weather was. I had a good breakfast in the restaurant downstairs -- though they were out of black pudding -- and set out to look at Coventry. I was on my way to the museum and art gallery when I was sidetracked by seeing the canal basin at the top of the hill, across the ring road. Postwar Coventry is built with the centre of town inside a circular ring road, and pretty much all the residences outside. It probably makes the centre more pleasant and walkable, but there are times when it seems a bit lifeless. Anyway, Coventry treats their canal a lot better than Oxford does. The canal basin is laid out nicely, with moorings for a dozen or so boats, of which two or three were occupied. There are shops a

 As the only guest in the hotel at Easenhall, I took pride of place at breakfast, sitting in a church pew from 1672 in a pub built 400 years ago. My charming hostess served up yet another full English, but with only one egg and some rather suspicious bacon. As always, there was a continental bar with cereals, yogurt and toast to top up with. And I was right to be suspicious -- the bacon returned, bit by bit, during my walk, and had to be disposed of. They say the heart has reasons that the reason knows nothing of; and the same is true of the stomach. The weather forecast for the morning was cold but sunny, so I decided to try and walk at least part of the way to Coventry -- not on the muddy canal path, but on back roads. These were generally very pleasant walking, and quite scenic, although a little busier than I had expected. It was chilly to start with, even though I had on a t-shirt, shirt, fleece waistcoat, jacket and raincoat, but it soon warmed up, and by 10am I was able to unzip

Remarkably, it all more or less worked. I needed to return the car in Banbury by 4 pm, so I thought I would spend some time looking at the sights on the way. I had a bit of a blow after packing when I discovered I had lost my hat; not because it was a particularly lovely hat, but because I thought I had been so careful keeping track of everything. Luckily I have a spare, but I will try and find a better one in Coventry. My first job was to find a petrol station and refill, which I did successfully after spending some time trying to locate the way into it. Unlike any other petrol station I have ever seen, there seemed to be access at one end only. And this, mind you, was after the GPS system had tried to steer me through the pedestrian mall in Rugby in search of a mythical filling station at the end of a cul-de-sac. Once out of town, I aimed for the country roads, and found them reasonably straightforward, although there was a bit of roadwork that the GPS hadn't picked up yet. Most

 The rain stopped. After telling everyone for days that there was about to be a week of torrents and hurricanoes, the Met Office admitted today that it had all just been their little bit of fun, and that what we could actually expect was a dampish morning, followed by strong enough breezes to blow the clouds away. And that is what we got. I don't think it would have made any difference to my plans at this stage if I had known earlier, since my blister is making it unpleasant to walk very far, but I would have been less anxious about the whole thing. As it was, I had a nice breakfast, said goodbye to the ducks in the pond outside my window, and left Wigrams to drive to Rugby in the rain, once I had the windscreen wipers figured out. I took a few detours on the way; some deliberate, to look at nice old village buildings and churches, and some inadvertent as the roads were under repair, but I was still in Rugby around 11 am, looking for the Travelodge. My GPS let me down for once. I e

 To celebrate my first decent night's sleep I had a full English breakfast at the Merrie Lion in Fenny Compton, including a slice of black pudding, and set off rested and refreshed towards Rugby. On the way I stopped at Drayton Water, a parkland area around the local reservoir. Normally you can walk right around the lake, but the path was closed at one point for maintenance, and at 7k I doubt that I would have done it anyway. Instead I walked along the path on the edge, with chill winds blowing around me -- but no rain yet. I saw some mergansers in the lake and later on, from the car, a grouse, just standing quietly by the side of the road waiting for someone to shoot it. They are very well trained. And to the mammal list you can add grey squirrels. No hedgehogs yet.  Arrived in Rugby and followed what seemed to be a bizarrely convoluted route to the residential area in the north, where one of the two Rugby laundromats is located -- the other being on the forecourt of a petrol stat

 I got up thinking that I had worked out a contingency plan for getting where I was supposed to be by public transport, and doing my walking there -- then I double checked, and discovered that there was no public transport at all -- no trains, no buses -- on Easter Sunday and Easter Monday. Not even a reduced service. So I slightly panicked, and after a very nice breakfast I left Avonlea and headed into town. The room was small and cold, but they did provide hot chocolate and shortbread biscuits. The solution turned out to be a very expensive one -- hiring a car for the next few days. I found a couple of nice young men at Enterprise Rentals who were very happy to rent me a car, and when I saw the price I realised why. But at this stage I was a deer in the headlights: I hadn't done any research, and I just couldn't see any way out. It is a very nice car, though -- a little red Kia, with a very helpful satnav. And after I had signed my life away and recovered a little from the sh

 A day that went as planned for once. After not much sleep and with a tricky tummy, I forewent the offer of a full English breakfast with black pudding, and had some porridge instead. Nothing wrong with it as porridge, but it's still a blow. The rooms here have no fridges, so all the milk is in tiny containers, and it takes about three of them to really make a dent in a cup of coffee or tea. I have made a resolution to get some hot chocolate as soon as I find a shop. Walked out through the old town of Deddington, past the Norman mott-and-bailey castle, and alongside the road through Clifton. Still very wet, with water meadows everywhere. I crossed two branches of the Cherwell before getting to the canal, and turned north to follow it. Slightly more traffic on the canal than yesterday or the day before, but still very quiet, and the path still quite sticky and slippery. It's hard to appreciate the natural beauty of the canal when you have to concentrate on not falling in it. And

 I saw very little of the Oxford Canal today. Avoiding the flooded entry at Pigeon Lock meant I had to walk on the road north through Tackley, which is quite a nice little village. It even has a railway station, though with infrequent trains, and I could have crossed here and followed a footpath to the canal, but as far I could tell from the map it would just have taken me back through Pigeon Lock. So I turned north and stayed on the road up through Rousham, where a large walled estate with gardens and cattle was open to public viewing -- apparently for free. But rather than linger there I pressed on to Lower Heyford and another railway station, where the road rejoioned the canal. It was about ten-thirty by this time, with scattered showers.  I turned on to the canal path at a big narrowboat hiring centre, where they sold me a coffee and some sticking plaster for my blistering right foot, and walked along the canal for a while on a slippery, muddy path. Even with the stick it was heavy

I must have overdone the TENS treatment on my knee last night, because when I woke up it was still sore, and remained so throughout the day, though fortunately it didn't get any worse. With 18.5k to walk and rain threatening this afternoon, I got an early start, and was on the Oxford Canal by 7:30. The initial canal path is quite well-laid, with a rubberised surface, and heavily used by cyclists and joggers as well as walkers, most of whom seem to be accompanied by small, black, curly-haired dogs. Hundreds of barges are moored along the edge, although not all of these were occupied, and some seem definitely derelict. There are stringent rules for mooring periods on the canal; two days maximum close to a major town, two days free plus UKP25 per day further out; and further again you can stay for up to fourteen nights out of any month. There are a few zones where boat owners' associations seem to have negotiated an unlimited stay for their members, presumably in return for some c