I was 19 when Lord and Lady Y decided to escape the big smoke at the weekends. A quick dash up the A40 allowed them to walk in green fields and spend some ‘quality time together’ away from the real world. The initial joke (amongst my brother and I) was that a village named Windrush would only suit 2 such old ‘f*rts’. Now, of course, 22 years later, they are that much less-young. But not too old to see and appreciate more of the English countryside – which is almost impossible when you are drawn each weekend to your own bolt hole.
So it’s the end of an era. But that’s never sad as a new one just begins.
My most cherished memories of our Cotswold times include:
Do post a message if you have any fond memories of the Yablon cottage in the Cotswolds…