The rolling ridges of Crickley Hill

The trails in and around Birdlip are exquisite.  The village itself is a tiny, Medieval hamlet with a single hotel, the Royal George, where we are comfortably tucked in for the night.  The room is a bit dismal but the loo is glorious, large and bright and level.  Hee hee.   Today we hiked with the intention of picnicking on Crickley Hill, passing through lush forests on well-marked trails before eventually coming out to the roadway in order to complete the last few miles.   And there the trail stopped, not because of obstruction per se, but because of a roundabout so hysterically frantic that, after half an hour of tentative fits and starts, we had to give in and turn back.  For a nation passionately devoted to its walkers, Britain provides no safe passage to cross their busy highways.  Unlike our thoughtful country, where it is illegal not to stop and allow pedestrians to cross, the Brits rev up and fly by at a frightening pace.   There are no lights, no crosswalks.  An imperious gesture with a walking stick and locking eyes with an oncoming driver does nothing.  In frustration we turned back and eventually ran into a local lady. When we asked her how the heck to get across the road, she rolled her eyes and said,  "Oh I know!  It’s the worst roundabout in all of the Cotswolds!  Positively lethal!"   We did not find that reassuring and voted for life and limb.  As Kate dryly stated "I’m going to need my skin for the next week or so."

Tomorrow we depart for Painswick, about a six hour hike.  We will pass Cooper’s Hill, site of the annual cheese-rolling competition.  Unfortunately, this event is held in May.   I’m sad to have missed it, as even though they tried to make it illegal (due to the massive amounts of injuries incurred), the local rivalry is so fierce that it continues, despite the risk.  To quote:  A group of contestants is set on chasing a giant Double Gloucester cheese down an almost sheer hillface for no other reason other than to win the cheese, and the glory, thus gladdening the heart of anyone who felt that British eccentricity was dying out.  These Brits live on the edge, don’t they?  If you don’t get mashed up while chasing cheese, the roundabouts are sure to finish the job.