Alright, so. Last we joined our heroes, we were making our way onto a train headed north west-ish of London to rent a car and head out into the... drizzle. English weather, man.
Bletchley Park is around the corner from the car rental place, which is also across the street from the train station. So if you're interested in seeing where Alan Turing worked, and where men and women devoted years to breaking Nazi codes during WWII, you definitely don't need a car to get there.
We got there right as the doors opened (startled the nice old man nearly to death) and had the place to ourselves. My only real Bletchley knowledge all comes straight from The Bletchley Circle and The Imitation Game. But it turns out those both do a pretty good job of painting what it was like to live and work in secret for years on end.
I have one single picture of the property because it was gray and chilly, and there's nothing overly picturesque about concrete bunkers. Also, as someone who barely passed math, I'm admittedly not interested in the intricacies of codes, code breaking, and early computing. But the people who work there are PASSIONATE about sharing what they know. So I could see how someone would easily spend an entire day exploring the grounds.
The two non-math gals did a quick pass and headed out to Stowe.
Stowe! Now we're talking.
Stowe is one of the most stunning gardens I've ever seen in my life (it's Capability Brown, so). And the nearby non-National Trust Stowe HOUSE is actually a boarding school that offers tours.
And what you will learn on said tour is that the school has four different houses. With different colored ties. Is this reminding you of anything?
The little binders on the stairs! Because kids live there and leave their shit lying around! God I was in love.
From Stowe we drove to Blenheim Palace, which is a huge motherfucker of a place to visit.
The deal with Blenheim is it's the seat of the dukes of Marlborough, and Winston Churchill is a relative in there somewhere. It's also extremely touristy—Bill Bryson, my grumpy road trip icon—warns of the weirdo upstairs wing where you go through some kind of automated museum thing? We opted not to check it out and I'm happier for it.
I love visiting houses where the family still lives, because it feels... well, alive. It's also interesting as an American, because the Vanderbilts married into the family back in the Downton Abbey days. So it's a piece of my history, too.
Then we cracked on to the Cotswolds.
I'd found a cozy-looking little spot, The Wheatsheaf, in one of the less insanely overrun places in the region. And it was perfect. We wandered around the town for a bit, then had a refreshing drink (or five), followed by a fantastic dinner.
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