We had to ask ourselves: Can we take any more English preciousness and charm without going into metaphoric sugar shock?
Determined to succeed, we eased into it this morning by leaving Oxford, the soi-disant City of Education and Culture, and travelling by train to Moreton-in-Marsh. It is the only town in the Cotswolds with train connections, and a good jumping-off place for touring the region.
We are staying at the White Hart Royal Hotel, where Charles I supposedly spent the night in 1644 while fleeing to Evesham, as there was a death warrant on his head. It seems he left in too much of a hurry to pay his bill.
Dining was pure English today. I had a jacket potato with cheddar, and Don indulged in a Scottish salmon baguette with cream cheese and watercress. And then, after an appropriate digestive interval, there was a cream tea….
While considered not quite as charming as other places we expect to see tomorrow, Moreton-in-Marsh does have a quaintness that is preparing us for the full Cotswold experience. We will try to be strong and keep our mental insulin handy.