Not sure if one night away counts as a ‘staycation’ but we’re here. In the Cotswolds. And its brilliant. Not sure which Cotswold, precisely, it is, they all look the same, but its big and very green, if that helps. And I love the fact that these hills (and not very hilly ones at that) have a name. Their own name. Probably given to them by the slave-trader who first bought them in 1734, Sir Jeremiah Cotswold. No-one else had the cash back then. If they were hills in Australia they’d have different names. Highly descriptive but lacking any poetic or romantic component. ‘Shagged Out Hill’ is the steepest one, the most taxing to climb. ‘Call That a Fucking Hill, Hill’ is the very flat one. In America the hills would the have names of the Native American tribes slaughtered so the shopping mall could be built there.

So you drive along the M40 until everything turns green and then you’re in the Cotswolds. It is indeed very beautiful here. And very wealthy. And very very white. The ‘multicultural’ bit of England ends at the M25. Until you go ‘up north’, then it starts again.

I noticed the other day that the route to our Cotswold takes us past ‘Diddly Squat Farm’, which is the home of Jeremy Clarkson. I thought it would be rude not to go to the farm shop and take a look around. So driving down single-track country lanes for half an hour you see no-one. Nothing. No signs of human inhabitation. Then you turn a corner to Diddly Squat and the world changes abruptly. It’s amazing. Stewards guiding the cars into the massive, 300-car car park. Droves of people, all queuing for just a chance, just a possibility, just a glimpse of the great man himself. Ok, of the obnoxious, offensive dinosaur himself. It looked like the pic above.

I turned the car round and drove straight out again. And went to another farm shop which owns our hotel. Daylesford Farm. The most organic… organic and… really organic farm shop EVERRRRR. And it is remarkable. Especially the prices. Which are unbelievable. But so is the place. It is a massive area of fabulously designed spaces. Shops, restaurants, coffee stall, ice cream stands, garden centre, all totally and fabulously ‘organic’ so they almost guarantee that any fresh produce you buy will be pulp by tomorrow. But as they sell furniture, barbecues, kitchen ware and everything else you don’t need and can’t afford, who gives a shit that your tomatoes have gone soft on the 10 minute journey home?

Loving it here. Peaceful. I would say ‘quiet’ but I brought Mel with.

Happy Sunday

A xxxx