We were about to head back from our week 'darn sarf' when the wife handed me her phone upon which was a picture of a family we knew stood in front of a pub.
"Where's this?" she asked.
A quick image search and the location revealed itself. Bibury in the Cotswolds, the prettiest village in England. Allegedly...
"We have much nicer places in Yorkshire" I replied in vain, but her mind was made up.
She's a crafty bugger is my wife and she'd already done her research and knew it wasn't too far from our route back home from the South coast. After insisting we made an early start, at just after 10am, I was escaping the M5 and heading inland.
After what had been a rather cloudy week, the sun had decided to make a reappearance and as we dropped down the village whilst following the parking signs, it seems we were far from the only ones who had decided to visit 'the prettiest village in England' on that sunny, August afternoon. The traffic was horrendous. The parking was basically a few spaces in the car park of the 'famous' trout farm and it was full. All the streets had double yellows, and I was now relying on my mum's blue badge to get me a spot. I dumped the old girl and the wife outside the pub, as they were, of course, both wanting the toilet by this time, and luckily found a spot just fifty metres away. I had to nip in there in front of an old couple who 'possibly' saw it first but hey ho! All's fair in love and parking spots.
Walking back to the pub, I saw them exit rather shamefacedly. It seems the they had ignored the signs saying; 'Toilets for customers only', and had been scolded by a pub employee as they tried to sneak out. Despite my reservations about the price, I'd tried to book a table in their wonderful brasserie as a surprise but it was full, and I was rather pissed that we had come to visit their 'wonderful' village which didn't appear to have any public toilets, and had then berated an 86 year-old woman for sneaking a quick piss in the disabled bog.
Anyway, who wants sea bass when you can have a cornet, and off we trooped to the ice cream van. It's funny how the ice cream man can always find a place to park.
£5 for a bloody cornet, and there was a queue (which you can't see on this pic as it was on the other side of the van).
At least they got a flake in it. The wife only wanted the ice cream for a picture and my mum was pissed it was already melting as she was dragged onto a little wooden bridge for the perfect insta shot. Didn't stop her having a cheeky lick en-route though!
This was the supposed to be the 'distant' shot but as usual, I didn't quite get the zoom correct and another bollocking from the wife about my poor picture taking was in order!
To be honest, the ice cream man was a blessing in disguise as about 20 metres away was a little brick shed that was selling one scoop of gelato for six quid and a coffee for a fiver.
The ice cream parlour. If you're like me and allergic to extortionate pricing, I'd suggest taking a flask and some jam butties.
Oh look! A wild meadow with a pretty old house flanked by some ancient woodland. Yippee!
So other than just walking around taking pictures, Bibury has a trout farm. That's it. The highlight of your visit, if the mating habits of the wild brown trout is your thing, but at least they had a little cafe and a gift shop which you could use without having to pay the fee to go and walk around the fish ponds.
It was quite a nice little cafe and being fair, a lovely place to sit outside in the shade and enjoy a light bite from their expensive, and extensive menu. We were a bit peckish due to missing out on lunch at the Old Swan and had a few snack type dishes and some drinks, it still came to over £40. I seriously cannot come to terms with how the expensive the UK has become, especially in tourist hell holes like this.
The positives were that there some lovely views of the fish ponds and streams from the cafe without needing to pay to go in and there was a toilet. The negative was that the toilet cost £1 and they didn't accept cash, you had to swipe your card. Seriously. Same in the cafe and gift shop, cash not accepted! Absolute nonsense.
The wife popped into the gift shop, fair play, she often likes little souvenir. A tea towel, fridge magnet, that sort of thing but the prices again. Tea towels were £19.99 and fridge magnets, £13. I was once again lost for words and pulled out my phone for a photo but not for the first time that day, the authoritarian figure of a shop assistant pointed to a 'no photos' sign. I paused for a minute, and despite spoiling for a fight at this point, walked out.
It was time to go home, back to Yorkshire.
I do understand that the Cotswolds is a very popular tourist destination despite the fact that apart from this and a couple of other pretty villages, there's very little else. The general scenery is nothing to write home about. Even without my obvious bias, Yorkshire is a much more all round beautiful place to visit with our incredible scenery, both a super cool and historic city and a stunning coast line but the Cotswolds is en route to Bath and Stonehenge so its a natural stopping off point.
In all seriousness though, I do hate the price gouging, especially as most of the tourists we saw there were foreigners on tours. What impression must we give to visitors? And don't get me started on Stonehenge. Another rip-off. The last time we were there 10 years ago, it cost £25 just to be allowed to stand 50 metres away from the stones!
So here is my top travel tip for people visiting the UK. Go North. Visit the incredibly historic city of York and the amazing Yorkshire Dales and North Yorkshire Moors, they knock spots off Stonehenge and Bath!
Thank you very much for dropping by. I've pinned Bibury to the ever wonderful 
Best wishes
