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Tales from the Cotswolds - The Tale of the Tea Drinking Tourist

Lee McCallum • Aug 21, 2019

The Tale of the Tea Drinking Tourist

Cotswold Tales

When visitors from another country come to the Cotswolds, they often remark on how the villages seem like movie sets. The first experience many people have of the Cotswolds is through TV and film so if a location fits in with the picture in one’s minds eye; it's easy to see why they think that.

Once in the Cotswold towns and villages, that line between fantasy and reality isn’t always clear. For many it’s quite blurry and obscured by limestone, beautiful gardens and lifelike caricatures of people looking like characters from said TV and movies.

The impossibly quaint street scenes with their thatched roofs, winding lanes and crooked buildings all add to the romantic feel of wandering through a lucid dream. Throw in a few friendly locals and one could be forgiven for forgetting where they are for a moment.

Bibury is one of the most famous destinations in the Cotswolds and the jewel in it’s crown is Arlington Row; a crooked jumble of 17th century weavers cottages that were originally a 14th century monastic wool store. The scene is all wonky windows and undulating roofs and has been compared to Hobbit homes in the Shire.

The village is very popular with Japanese visitors, partly because it was endorsed by Emperor Hirohito while on a European tour during which he described his visit as one of the happiest times in his life. Cue a significant number of Japanese visitors wanting to see what all the fuss is about.

Visitors arrive by the coach load throughout the day in the summer months. And the winter months. All months really. For many it is a pilgrimage, the culmination of a global journey and the main reason for visiting. Here they come, staggering down the steps of the coach and stumbling off into the village; awestruck by their surroundings and often oblivious to traffic and angry swans.  Never ignore an angry swan.

It’s not unheard of for first time visitors to get themselves into the odd scrape when exploring new surroundings and this was very apparent in one particular instance in Bibury just a few years ago.

There’s a resident of Arlington Row (let’s call him James) who came down to breakfast one morning to find something rather unexpected waiting for him. James had only lived in the village for a short time and while he was getting used to the vast numbers of people going to and fro outside his Cotswold home each day, nothing could prepare him for what he found on a sunny Tuesday morning in June.

James made his way downstairs in his wifes bathrobe, yawning and scratching. He put on his slippers, picked up the mail from the floor by the front door and shuffled into the kitchen.  There he came upon a Japanese family of four sitting around his kitchen table, laughing, snapping selfies and group photos of themselves pretending to drink tea from cups and saucers they'd found in the cupboards.  The mail slipped from his hand and slapped onto the floor.

The sound of the mail falling to the floor alerted the family to his presence. James stood in the doorway to the kitchen with letters strewn about him on the floor, bathrobe hanging open, untidy mess of hair and unshaven.  The family froze mid-pour and stared at him. The laughter that had filled the air stopped and all that could be heard was the ticking of the Nathaniel Hedge grandfather clock in the hallway.

Seeing someone out of context is one thing, but if there was ever a case for one group or individual not expecting to see another group or individual in a specific location – it was at that moment, in the middle of summer in the Cotswold village of Bibury.  James did not expect to find this family mock tea-pouring in his kitchen that morning.  And the family sat around the table definitely did not expect to see a semi naked man in a leopard print ladies bathrobe in what they believed to be, as it later transpired, a walk-in museum.

James stared at the family and the family stared back at James. Although the grandfather clock in the hallway continued to tick-tock, a long and painful silence ensued that seemed to go on for a long, long time. The sound that broke it was the artificial shutter sound of a phone camera, as the 12 year old son of the family snapped a picture of James standing in the kitchen doorway.  

That sound was followed by a second shutter sound. Then a third. Then a series of them as the rest of the family followed and began snapping away. A barrage of shutter sounds and clicks captured James in all his glory and excited chatter rose up from the group as they captured this unique moment.

The shock of the discovery in his kitchen quickly passed and James gathered himself sufficiently to close his bathrobe, settle his audience and calmly explain to his visitors that they were in fact, in his private home.  The family were mortified and profusely apologetic.  They explained that nothing like the scene that greeted them in Bibury existed back home and they were charmed and intoxicated by their surroundings.

Since they had driven themselves there early in the morning there was no one around to direct them or to guide them around the village.  The gently flowing river with it's jumping trout and swooping kingfishers, the quaint and crooked buildings, the stone bridges and stunning flora, the sounds, sights and smells; all completely new to them and all of it totally enchanting.  Drawn to Arlington Row they were fascinated at the appearance of these ancient buildings and tried the door of one of them.

No one could possibly live somewhere like this.  Not in a village as pretty as this or in a house as old and wizened as those on Arlington Row.  The whole village was like a perfect movie set bringing everything one imagined an English village to be, to life.  James could understand a mistake like this, remembering how taken he had been by the village when he visited for the first time.  What he couldn't understand was how his was the third house the family had gone inside that morning without anyone discovering them before he did.

Once explanations were made, apologies accepted and inappropriate photographs deleted, James did the only thing one could do in a situation like this.  He made tea and invited the family to stay and enjoy a cup with him while he excitedly told them about the joys of living on Arlington Row in the Cotswold village of Bibury.  He should have remembered to tell his wife what he was doing before she came downstairs..

LM

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