Painswick to Middleyard

Since we stayed in Painswick for two nights, and since Byfield House where we did repose, was so remarkable and its hosts so extraordinary, more attention must be given this very special experience.


First, some examples of the decor. You may well ask, "What is so remarkable about that stuffed chair with its two exquisite needlepoint pillows?" What is remarkable is that you are looking at the bathroom, that's what! Note the fine, wood chest behind the chair:






Just a detail of one of the rooms, which like the others, was full of paintings, fabulous books, lamps, furnishings of every variety, all of which quite boggled the mind:








This shot, taken by Wendy, captures the sense of the place. Isn't it just so overflowing with colour and joy?







The people responsible for it all, Jill and Brett, were as hospitable and generous, and kind as can be. We hated to leave! We had an absolutely wonderful time with them, as if they were old friends.







But on we had to proceed, so we set out on our fourteen mile (give or take) slog to MIddleyard. As we left town, we noticed that houses had no numbers, but, as is common in the UK, they do have names, often beautifully displayed:








I loved this one, with the ivy hanging down the wall and the name etched into the stone:






Of course, Junipers suits this one perfectly:







Our snail friend is working hard, and, as you can see, making progress:







Why, he's half way to Bath:








OK, so the poor little fellow needed a rest on a charred tree trunk:







That there slab with a triangle on one side and a circle on the other is "The Cromwell Stone," apparently erected to commemorate the lifting of the siege of Gloucester. I say "apparently" because the plaque is illegible, but when one is told, one must assume:












Part of the day's stretch was characterized by undulating paths, like this one:






Refreshed by a nap and off again:








We met a lovely woman riding her horse:








See how a well-marked way can cause a moment of indecision?  But one of those arrows is not like the others!








Cows and sheep blocking the way are one thing, but a public vehicle! I say, that is quite rude:





There were two routes we could take to MIddleyard, the direct route and the somewhat longer, scenic route. We opted for the latter. This choice took us first along a pretty enough canal, OK, maybe not so pretty, but on we pressed waiting for the good stuff to begin. This was the result of our efforts:







After the thick, soupy, trial of the most muddy mud, the scenery improved dramatically. "Look for two prominent oak trees," the book said, and here they are:








A stile, exemplifying a unique type of metal stile in these parts, but this one is in the middle of nowhere:





When one espies a church, one knows that a town, and hopefully the one you are heading toward, will soon be in view:







After miles of trudging through mud, always having to watch our step, much upping and downing, and otherwise challenging-underfoot-walking-conditions—but many gorgeous views and the enjoyment of fine weather—we were, none the less, happy to reach our B and B.

Very different in kind form our last two nights' apartments, Valley Views was inviting in its own way, run by a very lovely woman, Pam. Fragrant, muscle-relaxing bath oils, large fluffy towels, a bright common sitting room with views of a lush, bright garden were most welcoming.

See our little frig:






What more could anyone want!












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