DAY 1
We’ve taken leave, hopped on a B777 Thursday midnight, landed in London 25 hours later on Friday 1pm, boarded a fast train to Moreton-in-Marsh, slipped down a rabbit hole, exchanged the shortest day for the shortest night, shed winter layers in a closet at the train station and came out the back under the lamp post at Chipping Camden!

We were unsure whether to look expectantly for Mr Tumnus; the Mad Hatter;  Gandalf or Robin Hood. Before we could decide we found ourselves in a pub owned by an Aussie, chatting to a group from Ulverstone, Tas. Curious indeed.

We were away – past the thatched cottages (Bilbo Baggins maybe?), on the cobbled paths following miles of dry stone walls. Careful not to scare the free range ‘ranga’ chooks. The sheep (to rival NZ) however didn’t even acknowledge our presence and we had to watch where to place each step.

Not that we remember eating the Turkish Delight or seeing the White Witch BUT something in the amazing full English Breakfast or the horrid coffee persuaded us to take leave of our senses and follow the Cripps Way rather than the Cotswold Way. We climbed Dovers Hill three times from different directions adding an extra 10 km to today’s journey bringing it to a round 40km.

A kindly gentleman gave us renewed directions and again we climbed Dovers Hill and rediscovered our markers. Having renewed our allegiance to the Way it was onward and upward across Cleeve Common to Broadway Tower. The magnificent vista opened out below and the misadventures of the morning vaporised.

The lush green English summer turf was an offer too good to refuse

Down into the valley, the township of Broadway was a welcome sight as our hunger pangs were becoming more and more frequent. Our enormous breakfast had been completely used up

Morris Dancers were in the village square with their colourful costumes and toe tapping music.

Rejuvenated by our Tea Room lunch we were on our way. Beautiful blue cloudless skies, green fields dotted with sheep and a silence broken by our own thumping hearts and puffing breath. The Way led us upward for a few hours until a three way fork in the road brought us to a stop – our path was not marked and we were way too familiar with the consequences of leaving The Way. Within minutes a family of Elves appeared at our side, knew exactly where we were headed, offered to guide us the whole way to the next hamlet. Six year old Sophie introduced us to Brownie, her much loved companion, a girl rabbit with an extensive wardrobe. Both Sophie and Brownie were quite hungry and were very disappointed when the Mount had not yet opened. Legolas (known as Rob to his friends) wasted no time in suggesting that we all pop down to the cricket club, have a pint, get some crisps and lemonade for Sophie and Brownie and then hopefully The Mount would be open and we could stay for dinner.

We all sat in the sun and watched the game of cricket in front of us on the Manor House green – we had to keep pinching ourselves or we may have forgotten to breathe.
As if orchestrated to a different score 6pm struck, The Mount opened and we ordered dinner gazing at the rolling valleys and fields below and in the distance the blue silhouette of the Black Mountains in Wales. We chatted on and on, past Sophie and Brownie’s bedtime with no thought of the impossible miles we still had to go – two more valleys and hills to our B&B. As the impending reality hit, Rob and Gillian insisted that the Vauxhall whisk us to Wadfield farm – we gratefully accepted – only then realising that our destination was soooo well hidden that our weary legs and brains had no chance of ever finding it!!
Legolas and Arwen and Sophie and Brownie had saved our day.