Chilling in Cheltenham

Careening along winding country roads with a Maggie Smith clone at the wheel. It isn’t what I envisioned when I booked a month in the Cotswolds…it’s far, far better!

I arrived in Cheltenham, England a few days ago and am settling in. My accommodation is perfect; a self-contained studio apartment with private entrance and a lovely garden, complete with a dog. Poppy is about four years old and is a spaniel/poodle mix. We got off to a great start with a ball-throwing session, and I’m happy to say her human family is just as friendly. Lisa, my host, has been generous, picking me up at the bus station, inviting me to dinner and providing tons of suggestions for things to do and see while I’m here. 

The icing on the family cake is Lisa’s mother Margaret, driver of the aforementioned car. Funny, outspoken and gardener extraordinaire, she spends quite a bit of time here replacing broken clotheslines, planting and weeding and Poppy-sitting while Lisa is at work. When she offered to show me some of the smaller villages surrounding Cheltenham, I jumped at the chance.

Along the way, we spotted a man of about 60 looking a little lost so she stopped to ask if he needed help. He was going to Broadway, so Margaret promptly offered him a lift. He hopped into the back seat (next to her purse), and we had a lovely chat as she navigated the confusing maze of country roads. I think the guy hated to get out of the car. (And the purse was still there after he left.)

This morning I walked up to Cheltenham Racecourse and then on to Prestbury, purportedly the most haunted village in England. No ghosts around that I could see, and I walked through the graveyard!

I’m finding everyone a lot friendlier than expected. I had my hair cut a few days ago and by the time I left, it felt like my stylist James and I had known each other for years. On my walk today, I stopped to get a picture of a red phone booth in Prestbury. About ten minutes later, in another part of the village, a car pulled up and a man got out, asking if I was the one photographing the phone box. We had a grand old chat about phones and Pete Luckett and Halifax, and he offered me a lift back to Cheltenham where apparently there are a number of these iconic British symbols. (I didn’t take him up on it..he may have been a ghost…)