Our Adventures in the Cotswolds or ‘Oh my lovely Kotzwald’

XXIV

‘I only had a couple of drinks last night.’

Dan Courtney

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This time my blog will have to dive down into the depths of black humour and I apologise in advance. For those of you who have quite a vivid imagination I advise stopping at the point when you feel the vomit surging up your throat so you can make a run for the toilet in time. Another option would be to place a bucket right next to you. Anyway.

1. This is us in bed, on a Sunday morning at 7 am. We have booked a train that will be leaving Paddington Station at 9.30 am. The train will take us to a nice place in the Cotswolds region where we are planning on cycling for the day and staying in an Airbnb over night. Thanks to Bank Holiday Monday, we will be cycling the next morning as well and return to London in the evening. Sounds amazing, doesn't it? 

2. Now, there is a slight issue with this plan. Dan has been to a school reunion the night before and come home in a rather "happy mood". Whilst I am putting on my cycling clothes I observe him taking his time to get to stage 1 (out of bed). Somehow I feel that there is a tiny chance that I will have to go cycling all by myself.

3. After having had a glass of water, Dan has to pay the toilet a short visit. Having known Dan's stomach for quite a while, I am quite good at judging the degree of his hangovers. He's definitely had too much beer or whisky - outbursts like this only happen if his intake of 

alcoholic gluten the night before has been too high. This means that he might be curling up in bed for the next five hours. So much for our 'romantic' trip together.

4. However, it seems that I have underestimated my hero. A pale ghost, he packs his rucksack (who knows what he's stuffing in there) and follows me out into the grey Sunday morning. London can be dangerous on a bike when you are sober so you have to put extra caution into your actions when this soberness is slightly, erm, blurred. Slowly, ever so slowly, we cross London from Southeast to Northwest, a journey of about an hour when you have to wait for a tortoise cycling behind you.

5. Paddington Station is crowded with people and whilst I'm enjoying my breakfast bagel, Dan is hunched over his bike and trying to focus on the station clock and the train times.
‘Breakfast?’ I ask him, munching away.
‘No thanks, later mebbe’, he declines politely, trying to avoid smelling my delicious salmon-fried egg bagel.
Finally, there it is - our first train that will take us to Swindon. Due to space restraints I will have to refer you to picture no. 3 again. Just imagine the whole thing on a train.

6/7. Please note that after the change to a regional train in Swindon, I have to make yet another reference to picture no. 3. As I feel sorry for not supplying you with more image material, here's a photo of Dan posing on the train, pretending to be OK.

Every nice train journey has to come to an end at some point. This is when the actual fun starts. We are cycling through beautiful, wonderfully peaceful countryside. The rapeseed is in full bloom, distributing its intensive, artificially sweet smell. 

The blue sky is interspersed only by a few clouds, reminding us of the sheep below who are roaming the scrumptiously juicy meadows for the greenest grass and yellow buttercups.

I can't compare these endless landscapes with anything but my inner image of Middle Earth. I want to change my bike with one of the horses that are watching us from their pastures and jump over the streams.

Living in London means dealing with constant distractions and air pollution from cars and busses. The Cotswolds are only 1.5 hours away from the capital but at first I couldn't quite comprehend what a different world it was.

8. How wonderful then, when the only noise you hear comes from the chirping birds, our bike chains, the wind in the trees and ...
Oh wait.
How could I forget that someone's stomach is still not sorted and we have to have regular breaks next to the underbrush. Moreover, the pace of our journey still hasn't improved from our London crossing, so I make a decision. It's time for a Coke break.




9. I don't know how, but Coca Cola always sorts Dan's terrible hangovers out in the end. We are roasting in the sunshine in the back garden of a cafe in Tetbury. I can finally have normal conversations with him so we discuss which route to choose. Don't think that I do hangover-sitting like that for free. Oh no, it comes at the price of a fine dining experience and while I'm slurping my ginger beer, I'm already looking forward to the pub later on.

Before I leave you all with my utmost recommendation that cycling trips should not start with a heavy head, randomly packed rucksacks and constant ‘toilet’ breaks, here are some more lovely pictures of the Cotswolds. 

*This photo was taken on the next day (Monday).
The problem with people is that they never learn from their mistakes.