Puttin' the Kae in UK

Kae's visiting again! Woo hoo!

Trooper that she is, after much excitement and a big breakfast, the three of us then went shopping in Gloucester. Well, Tea and Kae shopped, for our imminent tour of Belgium and the Netherlands, while I'll kicked back in the New Inn with a book and a pint. I got chatting with a local, Don -- thanks, again, to the Roots swag I picked up in January; that stuff is aces for starting conversations about Canada -- who'd visited a fair bit of our beautiful country.

Many of the old travel guides I've been reading lately reference rail lines that no longer exist, including the old Honeybourne Line, which Don remembered from his college days, travelling from his home, then, in South Wales, to Cheltenham. I said that our rail network pales in comparison to theirs, and while he agreed, he said it's as the modern system does to that of his youth, when, for example, Cheltenham had three stations, and there were twice as many stations along his route to the college.

He and his family visited Canada in 2008, and had planned that part of the journey would be by rail. When they got to the station in Toronto, they learned that some signalling error had caused a derailment, and that Via was now putting buses on. (Their destination was Montreal.) Coincidentally, this was in late July, and they'd just learned about the terrible fate of Tim McLean. None of them slept a wink on that leg.

Overall, they really enjoyed Canada, though. They got to see Niagara, Toronto, Ottawa, Quebec City and Montreal during their time there. I was surprised by what impressed him the most about our country, however: how apologetic the French Canadians they met were about their poor English. He said it was just so unexpected and genuine.

As I packed up to move on, he said I could come back and visit him at his 'office' any time. I love the New Inn!

From there, with the girls still occupied, I moved to another pub I'd been meaning to try: Dick Whittington's. Like the New Inn, it is also a historic building. I was surprised to find, in Darrel's book, The Story of Gloucester's Pubs, that the pub had suffered from poor management recently. I strongly suspect that's no longer the case, as the publican who served me was very friendly and generous with bar snacks. He also had an excellent spread of real ales on, including two from the Great Western Brewing Company, which I'd never tried before. Excellent stuff.

* * *

The next day -- a very special one for Tea -- we decided to go to Birmingham, for a day out and supper at Jamie's Italian. While standing around at our train station wondering why there were only buses on, who should appear before us but Matt, picking up his tickets for Edinburgh in a week's time. Having nothing better to do, he agreed to join us, on what would now be our drive to B'ham (for the first time).

The trip was seamless -- surprising, considering we were driving in the second biggest city in the UK -- and, as happened the day before, the girls soon left me -- with company this time! -- agreeing to meet at Jamie's later.

Aside: prior to splitting up, we'd all been shocked to discover a wide range of 'American' foodstuffs at the Food Hall of beautifully-designed Selfridges store in the Bull Ring: we're talkin' Jif and Skippy peanut butter (from Ohio!), Aunt Jemima pancake mix, Lucky Charms, a whole 'American baking' section... The list goes on. How the heck we've been ignorant of this mecca for so long is beyond me.

You'll no doubt be shocked to learn that we found ourselves at a pub shortly thereafter. First, the Wellington, which was much calmer than the last time I'd been there, and then the Anchor again. The highlight of the afternoon was definitely Beowulf's Killer Stout, which we wisely consumed as half-pints (7.9% ABV).

Eventually we found our way to Jamie's -- much later than the girls, we learned, sitting in the Anchor. Having had to walk by the patio at Jamie's to get from the Wellington to the Anchor, both Matt and I somehow failed to notice them waving at us. Ahem! A few missed calls and texts later, we sheepishly finished up our pints. Thankfully Jamie's wasn't busy, so we were quickly sat, once we'd made our way back -- and only ten times off our agreed time, I must add!

You must (must) be tired of hearing this by now, but, yet again, Jamie's failed to disappoint. In fact, my special of pork loin with beetroot and basil that had been honey-glazed and roasted, was one of the best dishes I've had to date. We got the antipasti plank again, and the bread selection; just a fantastic spread. This was Matt's first time at a Jamie's, and I'm sure he'll be bringing the family to one when they're over for a visit.

All in all, a great weekend. Now, off to pack!

Up next: Brussels

Close to home: Gloucester, Cleeve Common and Chedworth

We've spent the last two weekends much like the two before: close to home.

Last Sunday, we spent a great day in Gloucester. We'd seen the cathedral from a distance many times, but this was our first opportunity to stand in the shadow of its spire. It's such an impressive edifice. We have tickets to see the Choral Society perform Rachmaninov's Vespers there next week; absolutely can't wait.

From there, we spent some time on the Docks, the Candle an impressive spire in its own right. Plus, there's such an eclectic range of houseboats tied up there. We saw what looked to be a television crew shooting some footage, and it wasn't hard to see why; just a perfect day for it.

The same could be said for the Monday, which we'd booked off much earlier, so we decided to head up to Cleeve Common; another spot close to home that we'd heard good things about. Well, what views! The rolling hills go on and on -- there's a golf course up there -- and from one side of the highest point, Cleeve Hill, you can look down on Prestbury, while from the other, Winchcombe and Sudeley Castle can be seen (on the clear day we had, anyway).

At times you'd look out across those hills, right to the horizon, and pick out a lone tree; just like that test at the optometrist's office. I didn't know scenes like that existed in nature.

* * * * *

While this Saturday was pleasant, today was the best day of the weekend, particularly once the rain stopped around mid-morning. When that turn for the better became apparent, we pulled out our trusty walking guides, quickly settling on one from our Short Walks book around Chedworth and the nearby Roman villa.

The old stone cottages around there, and Withington, are lovely. Combined with hills reminiscent of last weekend on the Common, it's a perfect example of why the Cotswolds are cherished. Another highlight of the walk was the livestock: sheep, of course, and a few horses we got right up next to, but also a dozen or so llamas of various colours in a field on the way back; they didn't seem too bothered by us, rolling about in the grass to scratch one itch or another.

Am I forgetting anything? H'm... ... Oh, yes, the pub! Take note: the Seven Tuns Inn in Chedworth is worth the drive from just about anywhere in Gloucestershire. The staff were really friendly and competent, there's a great atmosphere, with plenty of seating indoors and out, the real ale was excellent -- the best Tribute I've had in a while -- and the food... Oh, the food topped it all.

Tea loved her ploughman's and soup, and my beef and Yorkshire pudding were excellent. (The latter's probably the best I've had; so fluffy!) The roasted veg that came with mine deserves special note: the parsnip was a perfect mix of sharp and sweet, and the carrots and courgettes were clearly locally grown. Finally, the sticky toffee pudding had caught Tea's eye earlier in the meal, and let's just say it was even better than it looked; a superb finish.

Check out our albums for more pictures from the past two weekends: Gloucester Docks, Cleeve Common and Chedworth.

A party at Wotton Hall

Walking to the bus stop last night, one could hardly be blamed for worrying whether the evening was going awry. We had a destination (Wotton Hall, Gloucester) and a route (no. 10), but beyond that, it was all a bit fuzzy. We knew there was a small beer festival at that hall this weekend, but their Web site allocated far more real estate to a 60s and 70s dance, going on we knew not when.

As we sat on the bus, halfway to Gloucester, two nicely dressed ladies and a spiffy chap got on. We privately joked about them getting off at our stop, only to suffer that sinking feeling as they pushed the bell while we gathered our stuff. In a scene right out of one of those 80s teen movies, we just stood there on the pavement, the bus pulling away, staring at the dozen lads 'n' lasses in waistcoats and gowns on the hall's steps, smokin' and lookin' right back. After what seemed like a heck of a long time, but was probably just half a dozen seconds, the tension broke and they went back to gabbin' 'n' puffin'. Pluckin' up our courage, we squeezed through the crowd, assuming we'd made some horrible mistake.

Enjoying pints of Codrington Winter Royal

Upon entering, the "Private Party" sign immediately to our left perked us up, as did the doorman's, "Back to the skittles alley," in response to our beery query. Wotton Hall was a-hoppin'! In addition to that reception, there was a skittles match in full swing, a wine tasting, an open mic night, and, thankfully, a beer festival! That place is clearly the heart of their community. Such a great atmosphere; warm and welcoming.

We met up with American Joe and had a great chat over a few pints, then caught the last bus back home, where Matt 'n' I broke out Guitar Hero III, rockin' it double-axe style 'til the wee hours. Good times!