Scott here lending a hand – helping get caught up.

We spent three nights in a B & B in Adelstrop, a small town of 150 people which is simultaneously so small its postal address is listed as Morton-on-Marsh, 5 miles away, but yet is home to the “Queen of the Cotswolds” and matron of the Cotswold Farm-house Luxe movement, much to the chagrin of our hostess.

Our hostess had a number of opinions about her fellow Adelstrop resident, as well as about other matters. While efficient, she seemed a bit of an “over sharer”.  I really did not expect to hear about her employment trials and IVF experiences of 25 years prior, but I suppose open and transparent is better than rude, and it did convey a sense of familiarity and trust, even if I did not choose to share my work frustrations and medical history in return.  

The Cotswolds tour actually started the day before when our Mad Max tour out of Bath visited two villages of honey colored row houses built and used in the wool industry heyday of the Cotswolds in the 18thcentury. Like so many villages, whether due to being “company towns” owned by the local nobility, or due to subsequent strict land use limitations, the Cotswolds are filled with fairytale like hamlets populated by warm colored limestone row houses, churches and manors. The roads are narrow and winding, and filled with cyclists on the weekends. Thoroughly charming.

 Apparently, the fairytale is under a bit of an attack by creeping modernism in the form of a series of pubs, Rodeo Drive style markets, and health clubs owned by a billionaire family. While they are keeping with the limestone construction, they are set up more to appeal to the Instagram crowd than folks looking for a dark, low open beamed ceilinged pub that welcomes dogs by the open fireplace and has been operating on the same spot for 400 years. We did eat in the Porch House, which claims to be the oldest pub in England,  operating in the same place since 973. The billionaire family behind the modernization of the offerings rubs some, including the owner of our B and B the wrong way. 

 We toured Hidcote gardens, which was on the must see list for Beth. It was a sunny Saturday so swarmed with crowds, while frustrating to take pictures, the gardens are laid out on enough acres that we never felt rushed- we could pause and admire flowers or landscaping.

Later that afternoon we went to Snowshill, a garden and manor house on the National Trust list.  The former owner was from a family which made its wealth in the Carribean in the 17 and 1800’s, largely from the labor of slave or underpaid labor. 

He bought the property in 1919 and lived alone in an adjacent cottage, keeping the manor house to show off his eclectic collections. He was proud of the fact that there was not heat or electricity for either structure.

The collection was…. Interesting. He had dozens of baby carriages and bicycles, a dozen Samurai warrior uniforms, 25 or more lacquered wooden cabinets stuffed with the most eclectic collection of  items. 

His cottage home had a large (6-8 foot high) crucifix type thing adjacent to his bed hanging on the wall. He had a huge collection of costumes which he would regularly don and wear around or to parties, or just to hang out at his home. He trained as an architect, and enjoyed acting and drama, as well as writing poetry.  

Basically, he had a bunch of money from the family business and could spend his life collecting things he thought were cool and acting eccentrically.  I was struck by his collection and life more than I was by other manor houses which were much more ostentatious or had better art or antique collections. His life choices really made me think about what I, or someone else like me, might do if faced with a situation where we had large financial resources, no family obligations or limitations, and complete freedom to create the sort of life dictated by our whims and fancies. Would we choose to spend our lives doing things considered by others to be worthy or admirable in terms of work or charities? If we chose a path like this gentleman, would it be any more or less admirable? Does it really matter what one does as long as it does not hurt anyone else? Frankly, I thought his collection was off, and I whispered to Beth at least once on the way through “It rubs the lotion on its body” wondering if the garden holds collections of bones. His chosen path was so different from my frame of reference, and his collection seemed at times so creepy, I subconsciously envisioned him as a creepy guy, while all available evidence simply pointed to “harmless eccentric rich guy.” Snowshill stuck with me most because of how it made me do some self-examination about how I choose to spend my time and what I collect and why. 

I guess that is why you travel, to learn about other places and through that experience learn more about yourself.