Only 20 minutes north of Bibury, our last stop, our second stop of the day was at Bourton-on-the-Water. Margaret had been joking that I needed to get a bourbon in Bourton. Whiskey is my drink of choice, and I am a regular drinker, but Margaret is not. I thought her idea was brilliant. 😉
Continuing our luck in Bibury, we were fortunate to find central parking on High Street quickly. We began walking, and spotted The Willow almost immediately. Maybe Margaret’s thoughts of bourbon were spurred by hunger. She suggested that it looked like a good place to eat, and I quickly agreed. As we walked inside, Margaret asked for a seat and I asked for a bourbon.
We were seated quickly and eventually received a delicious meal, somewhat less pleasant because the large American family seated next to us made a video call back home. The volume was on speaker and turned to maximum so everyone (even us) could hear, and they took turns hollering “what? what?” back and forth. As the phone in the US got passed from one cousin to another, the 16-year-old in the UK took delight in asking repeatedly, “Guess what fries are called here?” “What?” “Chips!” “What?” “Yeah, chips! Hey put Susie on the phone!” These are the exact people who travel the world and make everyone hate Americans. *sigh*
The moment we were able to pay, we hurried back outside.
Prior to the trip, “Venice of the Cotswolds”, is the name I kept coming across. It’s rather pretentious, honestly. Not sure why the exaggeration of comparing it to Venice felt necessary to someone. I find absolutely nothing lacking by saying a village has a gorgeous river running through the center of town. Bourton-on-the-Water is outstandingly beautiful and larger than the others we had visited, so an excellent destination.
We walked along the River Windrush in the cool sunshine. There were many, many tourists, but the feeling of the village was of happy people on holiday. It was fun to join them and smile and be a tourist (and not annoying American tourists). When we eventually came across a cart selling handmixed ice cream, I was happy to purchase a cone.
Bourton-on-the-Water is as picturesque as they would want you to believe and a good choice for tourists looking for a place to spend a day. I was still eating my ice cream when we came to a place called the Dragonfly Maze labyrinth. We both were eager to try and paid and entered. I assumed it was a simple hedge maze at first, but the woman at the counter explained that there was more to it. If we wanted to solve the puzzle, there were clues. The clues strung together would give us a chance to complete the riddle, and we could get our prize in the center of the maze, once we found it.
We walked inside for 20 minutes, struggling to decipher clues and going hopelessly in circles. Margaret grew more and more irritated, then ran out of patience and the next time we found an exit, she left and found a bench in the sun to wait for me. I was determined to stick with it. I eventually found every pavement stone with a clue, but had a hard time figuring out the complete message. I did not get the one above, for example, because the shape of the object was unusual to me, so my first instinct was correct, but then I convinced myself that I was wrong. What is your guess?
Conscious of her distress, I was trying to hurry, so that Margaret didn’t have to wait too long, and under this pressure my brain stopped working. I exited.
The woman at the front explained that there were several clues we would have a hard time deciphering, because we were American. Clue #1 was a flatfish, for example, we both wrote it down as flounder, or fish. She explained that it was called a “plaice,” which I have never heard of in my life. (Add Clues #1 and #2, and #3 was an image of two hands – what do you get?) She went through each clue, helping me out and offered me the chance to try again. I took it!
Outside in the sun, we were both still rattled, and we went directly back to the car.
From there, it was just a five minute drive to The Slaughters, but I managed to get us lost anyway. I had set the GPS for Upper Slaughter knowing that the road would take us through Lower Slaughter, and we could stop and look around before continuing on our route. Lower Slaughter didn’t have an obvious village center, and we drove right on through it by accident. Next I had to turn on Copsehill Rd. I saw a nice little entrance between two stone posts with a sign announcing “Copsehill,” and whipped right onto the small paved road. We came to a dead end at a huge manor house undergoing massive construction. A group of construction workers stood there, so we asked them if it was Copsehill. They said “Yes, and you can’t be here.” Our puzzled faces prompted them to add, “Copsehill Road is just there,” and they pointed. Aha!
We had somehow got around the back way, and came to the village in the opposite direction I expected to, but the green countryside, white flowering trees, and stone property walls made it look like we were in a good place in any case.
Despite the ominous-sounding name, The Slaughters is simply the name for two villages (Upper and Lower Slaughters) and the name comes from the old English word “slohtre” meaning “wet land.” The pristine manor houses, gardens, and churches here are as they were a century ago.
We walked in peace along serene lanes and only spotted a rare human being. Here, there appeared to be no place to park a large coach bus like the other famous Cotswolds villages, so perhaps the large busses do not come here. It was to our benefit. I asked Margaret to join me and backtrack the way we had come in, because I recalled seeing an impressive place.
The place I had spotted is the Lords of the Manor Hotel. The building dates from 1649 and was originally part of the Upper Slaughter Manor. Judging by the cars and the people who exited, I assume I cannot afford to stay there. But I will still add a night at the Lords of the Manor Hotel to my bucket list, ha ha!
I could see my frustrated friend had had her fill of the Cotswolds, and so I turned my sights to our Airbnb for the evening, in Warwick.
Answer to the first three clues from the labyrinth: Place Your Hands.
Conscious Engagement 
Another wonderful place or places and photos Crystal. Mazes can be infuriating. I have never been in one with a puzzle as well.
I imagine you finding an ice cream van 🍧 😂
Had to laugh at you dissing loud American tourists
I had never been in a maze with a puzzle as well either! I thought it was a good idea, even though I couldn’t solve it. The ice cream was so good and I am surprised I didn’t think to get a photo. The man selling was a real character, telling stories and gathering a group of people around him. All the ingredients were locally sourced, and he named the farmers who provided the things that went into each scoop he served.
And the tourists…oh, my. Every now and then I come across some real awful ones, like these. My favourite bad tourists were in a remote village in Anatolia when I was on a tour bus. The two cranky ladies disembarking in front of me rolled their eyes at the street vendors and said, “Can you believe these people? Their English is terrible.” and they snorted in disgust and walked past with noses in the air. I was so embarrassed.
That is the art of selling ice creams 👍😀
I was in a cafe in Venice and there were very demanding and complaining loud Americans. When they left the waiter came to our table looking not very happy another table of tourists were there.
When he found out we were Australians, he his attitude changed and we had the best time.
You always teach me something about my own country. I hadn’t known the etymology of Slaughter. Another delightful tour. I am afraid I doubt that I could have remained silent when assaulted by your pub meal neighbours.
I love that I am uncovering new facts about England! It is good to know that there is a benign reason behind the seemingly violent name. Margaret felt the same as you and was on the verge of saying something to the loud people I think. She wasn’t about to take much more, but finally we were separated from them.
The wonders of England under the sun… I didn’t know about plaice, but then my English is such a mix of English and American… I did get Y-oar…
There are loud people everywhere. Sadly. Nothing much to do. They probably were MAGATS. 😉
We had the BEST weather. Especially in the first few days, we were at risk of getting sunburns it was so brilliant out. We really did not suffer much at all. Felt a total of about 10 raindrops the whole week, a couple days with a little chilly wind. That was the extent of it. Couldn’t have asked for better days.
PS. I once had a similar… scene with French people very loud and obnoxious at a Maya site, Palenque. I told them that it was a shame to see French people making a row in such a site. I said it in French, of course. After a few seconds when they realised I had spoken in French, they started screaming at me… 🙄
People whose response when challenged is to scream at you, just mystify me. I’ve had the same thing happen. If some stranger in public actually commented on my behavior, I would be mortified, and my instinct would not be to scream at them. What makes this kind of people?
I don’t know what makes them. The end result is that they probably vote MAGA…
I am certain you are right.