A Long Way for a Sarnie: A Sunday Drive to Gloucestershire

Taking random road trips are becoming our specialty here in Oxford. Sunday is the perfect day to jump in the car and roll out to unknown parts of England. Our lovely driver this weekend, Rhianna, wanted Miriam, Viki, and I to see the beauties of Gloucestershire, a nearby county in South West England.

Driving through the winding roads and seeing the brilliant countryside brought back memories of growing up upstate. Long rock walls lined the main motorways and rolling hills were endless. We saw a sign for a Roman Villa and decided to check it out; apparently there are whole tours in the UK based around the exploration of these villas. Of course, being poor grad students, we didn’t quite get into the villas, as much as a wander around the giftshop. A £5.50 admission fee suppressed any desire for historical education.

We tumbled through the tight road back to the main route, not without a few near-heart attacks rounding the blind corners. I don’t know how these Brits drive; first off, with the whole other side of the road situation, and then with the obvious one-way streets being used as if they were four-lane highways. Anyone who can navigate these paths in a vehicle gets major props, though I have a feeling there might be an upcoming entry about how I learned to drive in England… so stay tuned.

Up the road, we decided to pull off to a random village and grab a pint and a sandwich. The town of choice was Newnham on Severn, about ten miles outside of Gloucester proper. Surrounded by the Royal Forest of Dean, this place was your typical village, with plenty of pubs and even more oldsters.

We walked into a pub with one of the best selections of cider in the country, only to remember it was Mother’s Day in Great Britain (shout out to the J-Money). It was packed, so we hiked up the hill to see some other options. We were attracted/intrigued by a bright blue building, which we came to discover was the friendliest pub in all the land. Seriously…

The Ship Inn was beyond fantastic, we chatted with who I presume were the owners about grabbing a bite, but they said they were done serving food. The woman called up the street to a rival pub to see if they were still dealing out a bite, but alas, they weren’t. In the meantime, the other owner must have cut a deal with the kitchen, and he offered us a last-minute roast dinner. Yet again, our poor student wallets wouldn’t allow for a £12 lunch, so as we were about to leave, he came back with a negotiated offer: a beef or pork sandwich, with a salad, for a fiver. Sold.

It was a supreme sarnie and with a pint of Guinness to wash it down, lunch was a memorable one. Here’s a major PS about some dramz going down at The Ship Inn: the town council is making them paint over their distinct blue with a far more dull white or an even duller cream, so it will match up with the other boring buildings around the centre. Can’t say the blue color was an extremely attractive one, but it certainly caught our eye and is the primary reason we walked into this little gem of a pub. So if you’re ever in Newnham, drop by what will inevitably be a white building named The Ship Inn for a quality experience. It will make you love England, I swear to it.