“Oh. That’s far.” – everybody.

After spending the day working, drinking coffee, and watching the world cup from a bar in Stratford, Jenna and I combed through our options for getting from Stratford-upon-Avon to Ampney Crucis, near Cirencester. In other words, small town England to even smaller town England.

Our only option was to take a £100 taxi piloted by an appreciably bigoted British man through the lushly shrubby villages of the Cotswolds to a hotel by a petite yet surprisingly quick running creek.

I went and checked in, then Jenna and I shared another amazing dinner—deep fried brie, a meat pie, and honey smoked ham with eggs and chips—while baby ducklings sprinted through the trickling stream in front of us.