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I live in Australia, my ancestry is in Cornwall. a Celt. a hedgewitch of sorts. I am an Earth Healer. I wear upcycled clothes, patchouli oil and Redback boots. A gypsy. An eccentric. a mystic. I am a searcher, a seeker, a pilgrim on Earth. I serve my guests, tea from an old silver teapot. I love Vervain, yarrow, chamomile & mint. I love to dream, to walk and to wonder

Thursday, November 22, 2012

about a Road and our last day in the Cotswolds..

Not far from The Little House is a narrow road, snaking its way over the hills.. The White Way.. an ancient road first travelled by humans, in the Neolithic period, wearing a track with constant use over time. Then, used by the Romans in subsequent years and so on down through history..  and it is still an exact route as walked by those people in Neolithic times. can you imagine....
if you believe in ghosts of times past, can you imagine how many generations are travelling this road at the same time, just in different dimensions? the mind overloads with that thought. For me, anyhow.

So, our plan for today: to visit Bath

we left The Little House about 9am, with the intention of driving directly to Bath, have morning tea, see the Roman Baths and spend some time doing some Christmas shopping

what really happened:

we drove towards Bath, through landscapes not dissimilar to that of country Victoria and Tasmania.
we arrived at the turnoff to Bath and the traffic going in was absolutely horrendous, so we decided then, to turn around and go back to Bradford on Avon instead.
So, I don't get to see Bath, but I am ok with that. Crowds and traffic don't do either my psyche nor my energies any good, so a very wise decision.

we drove down into Bradford on Avon, snaking our way down in light traffic, due to the narrow roads.. and found the park and display area

grabbed our raincoats and walked towards town..



to find the Avon River in flood

morning tea at the most delightful tea rooms and then some shopping to be done and oh of course, the postcards.

what a delightful, charming, quaint & quirky little village this is.. Laneways leading here and there, back on themselves.. narrow, narrow roads and a bridge over the river Avon.

my kind of place found somewhere in some little laneway...

Christmas decorations, people discussing their Christmas plans while sipping tea, decorated trees & twinkling lights in windows all heralding the coming of Christmas. And I could feel that excitement welling up inside that only this time of year brings. I love Christmas, and this one will be an extra special one because it will be cold.
Joe and I have been buying little gifts for each other as we travel and we will fill a stocking each to gift to each other on Christmas morning..

we then went back to the same tea room for lunch.. I wanted to taste their soup.. broccoli and Stilton and let me say, that it was the most delicious soup that I had tasted for awhile...

then home via the navigation lady..

who took us backroads that were flooded

or we took a wrong turn and found ourselves driving up a track towards somewhere called
 The Common

which looked more like a driveway leading to a stately home, 

we drove on roads that were closed due to the severe flooding in the area... you have no idea how much water there was and each road we came to had a flood sign posted...[aussies lost in flood flashed through my mind] -  finally finding our way to a road that took us home.. our last night at The Little House.

my journalings as we drove along:

"it is such a shame to see the rock walls falling down in disrepair. And not being mended. what a waste of history.

The leaves fall from trees and it is like they are dancing in the wind

I don't particularly like the people here in the Cotswolds, the land yes, but  not the people. The  farmers may be lovely but you don't get to meet them like you do in the Dales. You seem to  meet those aforementioned wellies and tweed coats set, who talk like they have a plum in their mouth and drive like ratbags along the laneways as if they are the only ones here.. who don't have time for tractors that are on the backroads, forgetting that the farmers are the backbone of a country. Nor do they have time for pheasants that run across in front of them... but the quails and pheasants still go on breeding, despite the invasion of their territory by the big Range Rover monsters that tear by in a hurry."

so our time in the Cotswolds has come to an end and while i haven't embraced the area, as I did the Dales, I am glad that we did stay here.. it has helped me alot in knowing that Australia is the place that I belong.

5 comments:

  1. lovely pics Robin, I too have travelled o;seas only to find the pull of my home country Australia was were I belong (and I was born in England!) how lucky you are to be experiencing a cold xmas. Lynne

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  2. Flooding? Bummer. But there's no controlling Mother Nature, is there?

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  3. Very often we paint a picture in our minds of the way we think things will be, more often than not the reality does not match the picture we imagined! England has been romanticised over the last century with chocolate box cottage idealism, but the truth is those cottages when they were built would have been shelters for hard living, lives were short, nothing like we experience today in cottage life!

    I'm sure you will find friendlier faces further south. If you send me your address for your xmas stay, I will send you a card to put beside your tree. xxx

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  4. When my two girls were toddlers I used to cross the River Avon every day to pick up my days groceries. Didn't have a car so I had to walk over a beautiful little bridge instead.
    I wish I had enjoyed my life more and appreciated it more but we never do, do we...

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  5. A lot of posh rich people live in the Cotswolds. Up North is better, as you have found out!

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