Left the house at 6pm for the short run up the A34 all the way to Oxford. The trip was fortunately uneventful if you ignore the appalling driving of the truck driver who flashed us and drove far too close to our bumper because we insisted on driving at the speed limit – pity I didn’t get his rego, I could have put it on the internet!! Eventually he overtook us, just as we put Asshole on the CD player and sang loud and clear to his rear lights as he then abused the next poor law-abiding driver, stupid enough to be driving in the same direction as him. Good job I don’t drive. I’d have slowed down to about 10mph then sped up when he tried to overtake just to show he’s not the only pain in the butt.
Anyway, other than him, it was smooth all way to the last services before Oxford where we supped on McDonald’s for the first time in yonks. It never ceases to amaze me how the taste never fails to surprise me with its remarkable lack of flavour. From this fine purveyor of plastic seating, food and overflowing litter bins (very unusual at McDonalds) it was a very, very short hop to Abingdon Road and, finally, the Sportsview hotel, B and B.
After squeezing Sidney into the skateboard sized car space, I checked in and was taken to room 3. All nice and clean and not facing the main road. Interestingly breakfast is limited to between 8 and 9! Lucky it’s a weekend, during the week it’s 8 – 8:45!! Mirinda watched Monty Don ripping up sickly trees to replace them with healthy yew hedges and then we set out for our first sortie into Oxford. Actually it’s my second but I was so drunk I could have been anywhere so it may as well be my first too.
The centre of Oxford was not very far from our hotel so we walked all the way. It looked quite interesting, if you ignore the hordes of soon to be drunken rowdy, clearly students, starting out on their weekend debauch. Found Pembroke Street, where the church is for tomorrow’s wedding – it’s not far – and also an Alice in Wonderland shop which is having a closing-down sale. Excellent bit of timing…well, for me, anyway.
On the way back we stopped in at the world’s smokiest pub, The Folly Bridge Inn. It’s a Wadworth pub so I enjoyed a 6X and Mirinda a Scrumpy Jack. The pub has a lovely Victorian pressed ceiling and deep red walls. The bar seemed lined with 48 year olds. I say that because they’d primed the jukebox to spew forth music from my youth. From Alice Cooper’s School’s Out to Deep Purple’s Black Night; extraordinary.
It wasn’t until we stepped back into our room that we realised how much we reeked of smoke. Anyway, bed by 11. Big day tomorrow! God, I always say that.
