I’m glad I chose to linger two nights in the same place. You can never really tell how good or quirky a place is until you get there – so it’s a risk. Most times I’m pleasantly surprised. I sure landed on my feet with this B&B.

After a scattered night’s sleep caused more by the adjustment of my body clock than by the luxurious bedroom I inhabit, I slipped down the stairs to the huge kitchen and a place setting just for me. Richard heated a croissant for me while I had muesli and fruit. Perfect.

In addition I had the endearing company of this Jack Russell – Douglas.

I set off early for Bourton-on-the-water, hoping to miss the crowds – and I DID, for a while. A lazy Sunday morning setting by the stream was all I’d hoped.

I wandered around until I found coffee and nibbled my sausage roll and sipped a Flat White in meditative silence.

Going out to sit in the park and await the 10.30 opening of cycle hire shop, I watched coachload after coachload of (in this instance) mostly Asian tourist pouring in to the tranquil setting from the path from the carpark. It made for an interesting way to pass the time seeing the tight little groups rush by clicking photos and holding up their hands for selfies with the ‘v’ symbol raised.

At 10.30 I was fitted with one of the spare men’s bikes – a simple model with a seat I later discovered kept slipping down to the nub. All the women’s bikes are too small!!! Setting off with clear instructions for how to get to some good routes I found myself repeatedly lost and on what were clearly not cycleways but barely used tracks.

Now don’t laugh – this is what my Map Your Ride route looked like when I finished.

I never did make it out of town but I covered a lot more ground than if I had been on foot AND had free parking behind the shop. All for only 11 pounds.

With the bike returned I set off to celebrate by eating a Cornish pastie and lemonade.

It was only a 5 minute drive back to Lower Slaughter so I kept going through the village and checked out Upper Slaughter and some of the tiny leafy roads in the vicinity.

Before long I was re-entering Lower Slaughter from a different direction and seeing what I’d missed yesterday.

Sooo very pretty.

I headed home for a nap, feeling unaccountably queasy for some reason, and curled up on the bed for a few hours. The nausea subsided and I forced myself out to see the village on foot.

When I rounded a corner and found the Mill I was impressed.

Home again I hopped straight in the car and found the pub in Bourton that offered Sunday roasts. Sadly no tables outside, no roasts left, no real atmosphere but I settled inside to my chicken and chips, feeling the sticky table pull at my skin whenever I lifted my arms. See – it’s not all good.

Things perked up when I strolled along the stream-side afterwards, and bought an ice-cream called a Union Jack to lick on a bench in the cool evening breeze at 8pm.

Now I’m home in the living room writing this up.

Tomorrow: Worcestershire.