As we approached the town I reminded Alan that there was a little Wellington Bomber Air Museum there so we stopped for a quick visit. I saw what I needed to see and then left Alan for another ten minutes while I looked at the main street. When I came back about 30 minutes later he was deep in conversation with the museum owner and another visitor. The owner was an engineer on Wellingtons when there was an airfield for them at Moreton-on-Marsh during the Second World War and his tiny museum is in the front room of his house. We couldn’t help but wonder what will happen to his eclectic collection when he dies.
Next we stopped at the tiny farming village of Dorn where we were greeted by a sleepy dog and a distinct farm smell, but the houses were rustic and cute and the flowers a joy to see against the old buildings and fences. The next village we detoured to explore was Stretton on Fosse which was not particularly special by Cotswold standards.
We decided it was time to press on to Warwick so we could perhaps smell some more roses on the way home. Like all the other places we have revisited, Warwick has completely choked itself to death with the motor car and parking is scarce and expensive. The last time we were there you could park free in the castle grounds and we were met by beautiful peacocks wandering around - now there are two council car parks, one in the castle stables and another that is cheaper but further away. As we arrived at 1.00 pm we were not impressed with the flat all day fee of eight pounds but the car park angels looked after us because when Alan looked at the machine there was already a valid ticket that had not been taken by the good fairy who put in the eight pounds! The entry to the Castle that it is now owned by Merlin's Amusement Parks is 19.50 pounds so we were glad it was included with our Heritage Pass.
I know I keep saying that I am glad I don't own a stately home or castle, yet I felt incredibly sad to think that a place with such history is now not owned in any portion by the Earl of Warwick who sold up and went to live in Australia some years ago. He must have been very fed up or just a very strong man to turn his back on his ancestral home on behalf of himself and his descendents. I admired his courage in one way but was sad to see it all turned into an amusement park that has apparently been sold five times in the last few years.
Unexpectedly there is still much to enjoy with the wax figures from Madame Tussaurds installed in the upstairs rooms and live guides in each room dressed and conversing in character and doing an excellent job - it is fun to try and trick them up and we had some strange conversations on account of Australia not yet being discovered!
You can take as many photos as you like and Alan and I were distressed to see some ferral visitors abusing the displays and taking endless ridiculous photos of themselves and their ferral chidren and moving precious items about.
We noted the fact that there were 530 steps to do the 'tour' of the battlements and towers but decided to go up to the first level to enjoy the views over the River Avon and the town of Warwick. What they forgot to say on the sign was that as it is a complete one way circuit, once you begin you have to go the full distance - so round and round and up and down we went!
Alan always insists on going down before me and up after me on these tricky stairs so that if I fall I will always have him to land on! How chivalrous is that?
On the way home we could not resist going to Bourton-on-the Water to have dinner overlooking the tiny River Windrush with children playing and paddling and people walking their dogs in the cool of the early evening. We made two new friends as we walked along trying to decide where we could eat; one was a lady walking her dog and the other was an English cricket fanatic who passed us and called back, “Is that an Aussie accent I hear?” The lady was lonely and wanted to talk about all the places she had lived before moving to Bourton about six months ago and the cricket fanatic wanted to tell us all about his visit to the cricket “down under” when we thrashed the English team. Eventually we 'escaped' and settled on dinner at the Old Manse Hotel and sat for a long time enjoying the scene which I had never hoped to be lucky enough to enjoy again. It was definitely a “pinch me it can’t be true” moment.
After dinner we went for a walk in my very favourite village of Lower Slaughter and as it was already 9.00 pm all the other tourists had left it in peace to be a real live village with people going back to living their normal village life. What a dream come true to say a last farewell to Lower Slaughter in the quiet of the evening before driving through Upper Slaughter and the Swells and going back to our Corsham Field Farmhouse for the last night.
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