Leaving London

We taxi to Paddington Station, beneath its magnificent Edwardian glass ceiling, stopping for a croissant and an Americano before locating the train platform for the train ride for Cheltenham Spa.

There is something wonderfully British about the beginning of the journey, the warm smell of coffee and buttery pastry mingling with the faint metallic scent of the station. Around us, rolling suitcases click across the platform. Announcements echo beneath the great glass roof, and the low rumble of the departing trains becomes almost a familiar rhythm.

Unfamiliar with the station we ask a gentleman about how to find our platform. Without hesitation, he corrected our pronunciation of Paddingham, Cheltenham Spa and other towns close by. Explaining how and why they drop parts of a word for simplicity. A truly delightful gentleman, as if we just met a new friend.

As we leave Paddington, London slips past the windows in layers. Brick terraces, railway sidings and back gardens give way to warehouses and industrial scenes. Then, almost imperceptibly, the city loosens its grip.

The carriage settles into the steady rhythm of the rails. There is the soft vibration beneath our feet, the occasional sway around a curve, and the muted rush of air against the glass. We sip our coffee as the landscape begins to open.

Feeling like we have escaped London, the city we love.

From the train window, the countryside becomes almost impressionistic. Hedgerows rush toward us and vanish in an instant, their greens dissolving into a blur before another field takes their place. Farmhouses flow past, church spires and clusters of honey colored cottages briefly appearing between the trees, then disappearing behind us.

The light seems different now. Softer, reflected across immense stretches of pasture. Sheep appear as little white flecks scattered over the hills. Every few seconds another gate, farmhouse, stand of trees or village church flashes into view and is gone before the eye can fully take it in.

At speed, the countryside seems to flow rather than pass. A continuous ribbon of green, gold and stone unfurling in front of us.

We settle back with our coffee, watching England transform outside the window.

London is behind us.

The Cotswolds are beginning to unfold ahead.