The British Midlands

The British Midlands

There is something utterly charming about meandering around old parts of England or the Oxfordshire countryside in this case.

A whirlwind trip around a small slice of heaven had us reciting children’s nursery rhymes, pondering Oliver Cromwell’s decisions in the Globe Room, quoting J.R.R. Tolkien while enjoying a locally brewed pint and whispering around great knights.

Our trip started in the magnificent City of Dreaming Spires, Oxford. After a scenic trip up from the north of London, my British friends, Derek Bezuidenhout and Ange Knight, and I left our mode of transport in a handy park-and-ride in the suburbs and jumped on a double decker bus Oxford-bound.

For over 800 years, home to royalty and scholars, it is now a bustling vibrant cosmopolitan town. We made good use of the Hop-On, Hop-Off bus starting our tour at the first stop on the tour, at the actual bus and train station. Oxford is truly beautiful, steeped both in history and spires I loved the medieval and gothic influence with gargoyles sitting high above street level. Small, snug, ancient, overgrown cemeteries lying forgotten alongside busy student buildings – confirming how the contrasting old and new in Oxford were living harmoniously together.

The University is the oldest in the English-speaking world with bold buildings boasting their ancient roots. We snuck into St John’s College catching a glimpse of the impressive lifestyle offered, you were indeed lucky to study here.

Time in Oxford, when not admiring the architecture, was spent wandering around Britain’s first public museum, the Ashmolean. Shuffling along with an engaging young group of children we discovered collections spanning civilisations of both east and west. Several wings hosted ancient ceramics, pre-Dynastic Egyptian material, Raphael drawings and an impressive collection of modern day Chinese art.

Our exploring interval was enjoyed at 17^th Century pub, The Eagle and The Child. Made famous by literary greats J.R.R. Tolkien and C.S. Lewis who were part of the Inklings Writers Group, the wordsmiths used to congregate in the small narrow building debating and bouncing off ideas about their current writings.

Walking off lunch we meandered around passing the Bodleian Library, Radcliffe Observatory, the Sheldonian Theatre, the Divinity School, Radcliffe Camera, Keble College, Town Hall and other postcard models. I absolutely loved the Bridge of Sighs or the Hertford Bridge, an enclosed skyway leading from one building to another with dainty stained glass windows on both sides inviting light into it.

Our next appointment was High Tea at The Old Parsonage. Tea was a rich and filling affair of home-made scones, jam and clotted cream accompanied by a delicious jasmine tea. After a smidgen more exploring we decided that we needed to head off to our accommodation in Banbury. Home for the night was the Treetops Guest House. Checking in, we met the owners and their delightfully chubby Jack Russell Arthur.

Continuing the theme of fine dining, dinner was on the outskirts of Banbury at The White Horse. Under new ownership the meal was world class. Our table of five guests including our hosts Sandra and Len from the Guest House were all extremely impressed with our meals. The presentation, the wholesome tasty portions and the excellent delicious puddings impressed the diverse crowd.

The evening concluded with a pint at the oldest and greatest pub in Banbury, Ye Olde Reine Deer Inn or so the sign outside the establishment claimed. The golden brew was from a local craftsman, Hook Norton and our night cap was a delicious type of moonshine described as a dessert fruit wine. They come in an array of flavours: Strawberry; Cherry; Damson; Elderberry; Peach; Blackberry; Sloe and black beer and raisin. I opted for a sample of the black beer and raisin which tasted completely moreish.

Ye Olde Reine Deer Inn was believed to be the local for the famous Oliver Cromwell. The room at the back, the Globe Room is believed to have been his headquarters and was an interesting visit with the dark and dominating wood panelling surrounding you.

The next morning on our way out of Banbury we stopped at the famous statue. Admiring the fine lady sitting proudly on her white horse at the main traffic circle in Banbury, we tried to remember the correct order of the nursery rhyme.

Our travels took us south-west towards Bloxham. On a whim, our navigator Derek turned off the beaten track to the lovely old brewery of Hook Norton. The previous evening we have been sampling his fine beers and ales. The local brewery was renowned for causing a traffic jam on delivery days as he used the traditional method of horse and cart to drop off his produce at the various pubs spotted around the area.

Back on the road, we meandered to the Rollrights located on the border of Oxfordshire and Warwickshire. Not as famous as Stonehenge but just as magnificent, the three megalithic monuments known as the King’s Men stone circle, the King Stone and the Whispering Knights are scattered amongst the rolling hills which were alive with yellow patchworks of rape seed.

Try as you might, if you attempt to count the individual stones of King’s Men Stone Circle, you will never get the same figure three times. We attempted and on our second tally gave up as our figures didn’t correspond.

The next stop was a light lunch in the village of Moreton-in-Marsh at the gorgeous Manor House Hotel. This fine establishment built in 1539 was the venue for my hosts wedding reception, so was a special place to stop with them.

The weather in the Cotswolds was gorgeous and all of the quaint villages that we drove through or stopped at were abuzz with Brits enjoying the glorious weather. In Bourton-on-the-Water, we appreciated a creamy soft-serve overlooking the river that flowed through the village. A sight that made the pit stop quite fitting was an eccentric man driving a beautiful old Bentley that looked similar to a six cylinder 1926 model.

Our final stop was at the affluent town of Cirencester best-known for its wool. The main street around the historic church and town hall was draped with cheerful bunting. The beautiful old church, St John the Baptist is the only remaining medieval building in the area to have survived the Saxons, the weathered old building was a sight to behold, quite a contrast to the surrounding newer buildings. The statues and monuments all slowly disappearing as the stone gets eroded.

Back in Rickmansworth, I loved the time we had in the Midlands. The memories of the special little nooks we discovered shall be treasured, a truly special place in the United Kingdom.