We began the day with a pop-in to get a glimpse of Bath Abbey during the free Sunday service.
The website boasts the joint as a space that’s alive with music and prayer, art and history. A place where awe-inspiring architecture lifts the eyes and raises the spirit.
And I’m sure that’s the case...however...all I could see was the 23-foot monstrous, inflatable globe hanging from the ceiling.
At first, I thought I was hallucinating because why would such a beautiful place hide its impressive fan vaulted ceilings with a Macy’s Day Parade balloon...but the others saw it, too.
Apparently, it’s an art installation called Gaia that, according to the artist, provides the opportunity to see our planet floating in 3D.
Funny, because a full-size version of the same thing is available if you step outside the Abbey...
Dumbest thing I’ve ever seen. Would have much preferred Woody Woodpecker.
We grabbed coffee and hit the road to Stow-on-the-Wold and a day self-touring The Cotswolds.
Cruising through Upper and Lower Slaughter, we were treated to villages that have remained utterly unchanged from more than a century with no new construction since 1906.
We popped out to explore old churches and cemeteries, footpaths and bridges; learning that the name comes from old English “slohtre”, which has nothing to do with killing things, it simply means, “muddy place”.
Everything was incredible: the characteristic yellow limestone caressed by bright red ivy, horseback riders in the streams, the little gardens, the detailed and varied door knockers. Clearly, the residents take great care in every, single, detailed aspect of their homes.
Come lunchtime, we had some difficulty finding a table anywhere. Every pub required a reservation, every restaurant was full. Steven nailed it when he said, “If this is the off-season, the summers must be hateful.”
Finally, we stumbled upon The Fleece in Cirencester. And did we ever fail upwards with this place! A fascinating history dating back to 1651, a great logo, their own IPA, and killer steak pies. Score.
Back in the car, I took us to what would be our last accommodation for the trip: an Airbnb outside of Salisbury.
And though we gained an hour of sleep with Daylights Savings British style, we lost an hour of sunlight. Which is important for this next part when I say that I did not, I DID NOT, hit that stupid pheasant that decided to run down the middle of the road instead of veering left to the safety of the grass.
It was dark, it was raining, there was no shoulder on the smallest road in the world, there was no 'ka-dunk-a-dunk' sound, no feathers flying...that pheasant is safe in its pheasant home with its pheasant family.
I was unlawfully awarded five curb-checks for allegedly running over a bird. “12”-10...
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