If you’re looking for a picture-perfect Cotswold Tourism attraction, Adlestrop is another small village in the heart of the Cotswolds that we, and our guests, love!
You’ll find the village just off the road from Chipping Norton to Stow on the Wold. The village has a population of just 80 residents and lies on the edge of Britain’s largest Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty (AONB).
The location is peaceful and renowned for its countryside. Adlestrop provides a welcome break for walkers who enjoy the breathtaking views and nature trails this area has to offer. The area is popular with walkers because two footpaths pass through.
It’s so peaceful in fact, that one of Britain’s favourite poems “Adlestrop” was written by Edward Thomas in 1914. He was on a rather dull train journey when the train made an unscheduled stop in Adlestrop. Even though he never stepped off the train, the serenity and tranquillity touched him so much he put pen to paper! Although the railway station is no longer open, the local bus shelter contains a bench that was on the platform and now has a plaque on it quoting the poem.
There much be something magical about this place because it’s believed that the house and grounds of Adlestrop Park inspired Jane Austen – becoming the setting for Mansfield Park.
Adlestrop has all you need for a closely knit community – post office and store, village hall, church, cricket pitch and even a fishing lake! Every year the village hosts an Open Day where you can visit private gardens and enjoy lunch and tea at the village hall. You’ll find stalls, amusements and a fun dog show.
Have a read of the poem and I think you’ll understand why Edward Thomas ended up putting Adlestrop on the map for Cotswold Tourism!
Yes. I remember Adlestrop
The name, because one afternoon
Of heat, the express-train drew up there
Unwontedly. It was late June.
The steam hissed. Someone cleared his throat.
No one left and no one came
On the bare platform. What I saw
Was Adlestrop—only the name
And willows, willow-herb, and grass,
And meadowsweet, and haycocks dry,
No whit less still and lonely fair
Than the high cloudlets in the sky.
And for that minute a blackbird sang
Close by, and round him, mistier,
Farther and farther, all the birds
Of Oxfordshire and Gloucestershire