Just outside the spreading grounds of Blenheim Palace is the little village of Woodstock. It is one of those charming little places that seems to transcend time. Well, if there weren’t so many dang cars parked up and down the streets, that is. But the houses are old stone, the windows full of flower boxes, and the doors have adorable little fox and lion door knockers. After we exhausted ourselves at Blenheim we were revived by the charm of this little village and its loveliness.
Just outside of Oxford, England lies the imposingly grand palace of the Duke of Marlborough. I have been here twice. Once on my study abroad tour in 1995, and once with my husband on 2012. There are no words to convey the vastness or the grandeur of this place. The grounds go on farther than the eye can see and the house almost does too. The formal gardens are beautiful and the park is lush and inviting.
An interesting thing about this place is that Winston Churchill was born here. His mother was related to the family. There is a neat little display in the room where the great Prime Minister was born. It has wonderful memorabilia, including his “siren suit,” a red jumpsuit he used to don in midnight bombing raids. He must have been quite fetching in it.