← Home  ·  ← All adventures

The guide

Cheltenham

Regency terraces in Cheltenham

Cheltenham's Regency terraces — the golden stone of the Promenade.

Getting there

London Paddington → Cheltenham Spa — direct Great Western Railway trains, roughly every hour, fastest around 1h 50m. Weekend engineering works are common on this line and can mean one change (sometimes with a rail replacement bus), so check before travelling. The station sits about a mile out: a 20-minute walk into the centre or the route D bus from the forecourt.

Famous for

England's most complete Regency town. Cheltenham grew up around its spa waters — George III's visit in 1788 made it fashionable, and the golden stone crescents, promenades and pump rooms have barely changed since. Today it is two things at once: an elegant festival town (the Literature Festival has run here since 1949) and the home of jump racing, where the Gold Cup roars each March.

Where to eat

What to do

Pittville Park lake with the Pump Room beyond Fine dining in Cheltenham Cheltenham Racecourse grandstand

Pittville Park's lake, with the Pump Room beyond.

Jess's favourite

Pittville Park's lakes, in town and free — the resident mute swan pair, George and Zelda, plus ducks, moorhens and kingfishers, with a small animal enclosure by the play area.

Good to know: The Cheltenham Literature Festival runs 9–18 October — next week — in Montpellier Gardens; book events now. The station is a mile out, so allow the 20-minute walk or the D bus. Race weeks and festival weekends book out early.

Jess plans her trips the week before, but trains have a mind of their own. Routes, times and fares in these guides were checked at the time of writing — engineering works, timetable changes and last-minute alterations can still happen. Please check your journey before you travel (National Rail Enquiries or the Trainline app) — and if a replacement bus sneaks in, we hope the day makes up for it.

Read Jess's diary of the day ↓

Jess's Day Off · Diary No. 3

Cheltenham: Regency Stone and Two Swans Called George and Zelda

The meerkats woke me up again. I keep telling myself I'll lie in on my day off, and I keep getting up at zookeeper o'clock anyway.

Paddington to Cheltenham Spa, one train, no changes — an hour and fifty minutes of window countryside and I was there. I had a flask of tea, a cheese sandwich, and a notebook with Barnaby's latest dictation (a ball at a pump room, a hedgehog in a waistcoat, and a misunderstanding involving mineral water — I'll tell you when it's finished).

The arrival

First impression: gold. Everything is golden stone — terraces and crescents in long, calm rows, with columns and balconies like a wedding cake that decided to become a town. It's quieter than the zoo at feeding time, which is to say, quieter than almost anything. Even the pigeons on the Promenade looked well brought up.

The walk

I took the wrong turn out of the station — my mandatory one — and walked a whole extra mile before the town centre admitted it existed. Best mistake of the day, because the long way round brought me to Pittville Park. The lake first: two big mute swans gliding in, a whole parliament of ducks, and a moorhen marching along the bank like a tiny strict teacher. A lady feeding the ducks told me the swans are called George and Zelda and have been residents for years. I watched them for ages. A kingfisher flashed past like a blue mistake. George pretended not to notice me. Zelda, I am fairly sure, did.

The café

After the park I walked into Montpellier, where they're already putting up the big marquees for the Literature Festival — it starts next week, and the whole garden square has that expectant look of a marquee the night before a wedding. I found a café with a window over the street, hot chocolate and a slice of Bakewell tart, and watched a jackdaw argue with a lamppost outside. Jess's animal enrichment, day three: sustained.

Home

Back in London by early evening, notebook full of swan sketches and one suspiciously good drawing of a kingfisher. Tired, happy, and still a little bit Regency.

Story seed

George and Zelda have names — the locals gave them names, like they're neighbours. I'm writing a scene where Pinafor starts naming every bird on the lake, and a grumpy moorhen informs her it already has a name (Marmalade). Clarence's line: everything has a name if you bother to ask — which is a very Clarence thing to say, and a very Pinafor thing to forget by lunchtime.

Barnaby's text“You took your mandatory wrong turn and found the best street in town. Remember this, Jess: the best keepers are the ones willing to wander and look again. Curiosity is your compass.”

— Jess

↑ Back to the Cheltenham guide