I’d like to take a moment, if I may, to talk about my cock.
Or: ‘rooster’ – as our younger guests prefer to call him.
Others, for reasons that will become apparent, refer to him as ‘that ****ing bird’.
But we call him Colin.
Colin is – generally – an unassuming sort of fellow, who lives in relative solitude on the rail of the disabled toilet.
He is however an early riser.
And this is the nub of the tertiary epithet.
Because Colin, being by nature an affable chap, likes nothing better than to announce his morning ablutions with a resounding ‘Good Morning’ to anyone within earshot.
‘Earshot’ being something of a euphemism; for ‘five-mile radius’.
And of course the locals – ‘roosters’ from the neighbouring farms – are quick to respond.
For the majority of our guests, this is not an issue: they understand that we are – as I’ve pointed out previously, and often – located ‘outdoors’. In the countryside.
For others – a minority, thankfully, of urbanites and ingénues – the dawn chorus can prove a little … disconcerting.
As one such relayed to us, just a few days ago: “It’s lovely; but it’s a bit… well… ‘wildlifey’, isn’t it?”
A fair comment, I suppose: when compared to the mean streets of Chipping Campden, Rum Bridge is a tad bucolic.
But it’s not exactly the Serengeti, either.
Nonetheless, with folk travelling (whence permitted) hundreds of miles in search of a rural retreat, I felt a further ‘reality check’ might be in order.
To wit.
Eight of our units are set on the banks of lakes and ponds. Which are, in turn, home to ducks, moorhens, geese, grebes; and, yes, free-ranging chickens.
The other three are located outside the fenced lakeside area. Which means they are visited regularly by deer and foxes – both of which can make quite the racket too.
So, if your idea of a countryside ‘escape’ is a hermetically sealed, sound proofed room overlooking manicured lawns (bereft of web-footed invaders, natch), then I have two words for you.
Warner Leisure.
For the rest, there is Rum Bridge.
Cock, and all.
