TOURING WITH SUSAN

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXXV, Issue 22955, 5 February 1938, Page 27

TOURING WITH SUSAN

A DAY IN THE COTSWOLDS OLD WORLD STONE COTTAGES ADVENTURE ON THE OPEN ROAD BY M.F.O. Perhaps when J conic home (enchanted phrase!) someone will ask me, 'What part of England did you really like best?" and 1 shall not bo able to answer straight away. My mind will fly to a little Devonshire village fantastically named 'Woolfardisworthy, memorable always for the yodelling of a ploughbov in the Farmers' Arms, and for the most ambrosial breakfast I ever ate. It will fly to the southern-most corner of Lake Windermere, where the ancient Nowby Bridge has been casting its quaint shadow in the still mirror of the water for many centuries. It will scurry away to a little New Forest inn, the Sir John Barleycorn, where a ilagon of draught cider made the evening sunlight slanting through the trees seem a richer and more powerful gold. 1 shall remember too a moment of enchantment in the chill and haunted shade of Tintern Abbey, rising so cold and beautiful on the banks of the Wye. And then, almost lovingly, my memory will lead me into the peaceful and embracing folds of the Cotswold Hills, and there perhaps tarry awhile, convinced that here at* last is to .be found 'the liveliest corner of all England. Harmony of House and Land

Lying in the South .Midlands, roughly between Stratford-on-Avon in . the North and Cirencester in the South, the Cotswold district is a sort of tilted plateau cut by narrow valleys rather than by a range of hills. But the name is as much an architectural as a geographical expression, for the beauty and charm 1 of the Cotswolds lie not so much in the countryside, which is nevertheless wonderfully lovely and peaceful, as in the little old-world villages that nestle drowsily in the sunny folds of the hills. There is more perfect domestic architecture, and more harmony between buildings and landscape in this area than a New Zealander, too familiar with the horrors of corrugated iron, can well imagine without seeing it. The secret of this harmony is the locally quarried limestone, known as .Cotswold stone, from which all the cottages, manors, and churches are built. Freshly quarried, this stone is a rich golden colour, homely and warmlooking, as if the sun were always shining on it, and as it mellows, the centuries turn it a silvery grey colour, often enriched with green or golden mosses and creepers. The cottages are sometimes roofed with stone tiles in- ■ stead of the more usual thatch or slate, and the garden and meadow walls are of the same beautiful stone. The style of architecture is simple and uniform without "any suggestion of monotony, ind this sensible and consistent tradition in the art of building ia responsible for the perfect harmony, which, as I have said, so strongly impresses the visitor. Lest you should think so lavish a use of stone might produce a stern and severe effect, remember that every cottage is set in an old-world garden full of hollyhocks and roses, honeysuckle, sweet william and forget-me-nots, and that they are ringed with apple trees and poplars.

A Famous Inn Most popular and most visited of all the Cotswold " villages is Broadway, whose wide main street, lined on both fides with stone-built houses of quaintly unstudied design and situation, is as different from New York's famous Great White Way as it is from the Broadway that we know even better—■ the one in our own Newmarket. Midway along this ancient v road lies the Lygon Arms, one of the finest of old English inns, with a magnificent collection of brass and pewter, and various Cromvtell relics in the vast dining hall. Behind it is a quiet old formal garden, the ideal place id ! which to digest a generous Cotswold teal From Broadway; lying at the foot of the Cotswold Hills, a steep road'leads up to the top of the range, whers in a magnificent vista you may pick out Broadway lying grouped among the trees far below. The next village, and I verily believe the loveliest of them all, is Chipping Camden, less infested by the tourist traffic, more picturesquely situated in its sequestered valley, and showing even rore variety ana beauty in its architecture. The houses date from the 14th to the 18th century and abound in fine doorways, windows and gables. There is a splendid pillared market hall in the main street, a church with a magnificent tower that dominates the whole village, and a group of almshouses of unusual design. When I say that Chipping Camden is not much infested by tourists, I am not strictly accurate, for there is a certain class of tourist with whom this village is immensely popular. They do not arrive in Rolls Royces or even in charabancs—they come wearily on foot. They do not sleep in four-star hotels or even in motor-caravans, but under the hedgerows. And they have no well-stocked hamper for their lunch nor a manservant to unpack it for them . . . they pluck berries from the hedges and when the farmer's back is turned they are not above helping themselves to his carrots and apples. They are the men and women or the open road—call tlicm tramps or gipsies, or Vagabonds, or what you will. When the weather is fine and the nights are warm and full of moonlight, theirs is fine, carefree, and enviable life; but when the wind turns chill and the stars hide behind the storm clouds and the rain beats down, one does not care to think of these homeless folk huddling Under a hedge or a havstack with no toore than a couple of old sacks between them and tne weather.

Beloved by Tramps But the morning I went to Chipping was bright and sunny and inoiigh I cannot for the life of me WRk- what got me up so early I was MUully abroad before the tramps. down tho steepish hill into the I must have passed at least a aozen'jaf thorn—sometimes a man alone, wfSjjlsfast asleep in the sun; now a man and woman spreading out ptteir few things on a stone wall to air 11 {the sun and waving cheerfully as I Pfflf *y;,.now a boy in his teens with |W;ttead wholly submerged in a horse obviously enjoying his morning ."hitions; strangest of all, a whole aijtijy of adults and children encamped ♦Li side of the road, with never a except a two-foot high wigwam of toats and sacks, and never a car'except a battered pram in which •J® Posh their few possessions. They ixt& as merry as you like and the ®jqpren thanked me for a cake of the prettiest manners in