Oxford and Dad back in London
This weekend we took Imogen up to Oxford for her sister’s birthday. Imo and I were up and ready and rearing to go on Saturday morning, and met Lija at the Oxford Tube bus stop at Victoria Station to catch the 10am, which takes an hour and a half.
So by the time Clem, Nicolas and his girlfriend Marina were there and we all walked up to the market, it was already midday. Lija and I went and dumped our day packs at a hostel, and had a walk around town.
We ended up in the covered market and found this place called Pie Minister where I got a Porky Pie on a bed of mash with gravy floating around, some people also got mushy peas but I passed on those. It was so good though, and we were stuffed afterwards. We had to waddle along back to the tourist office where we went on the 2pm guided tour. We had an older man, who was very nice, asked us all where we were from, and what we were interested in, so he could tell us about those things, and relate history and people back to what he knew about us.
Oxford University, he told us, is similar to Australia’s form of government, where Oxford University is the umbrella that sits above the thirty different colleges within the university. You eat, sleep, and study in the one college, but your classes can be anywhere, even though some subjects tend to be in certain areas. The engineering and sciences have been shoved out back, while law and philosophy are in the key areas of town.
We went through and saw a couple of the different colleges, and he would tell us stories about each. Who studied there, what films used them for locations. Each has its own communal areas, most notably a chapel, a great dining hall, and of course the head of college’ room which overlooks the courtyard – so as to see what students are up to and that they are in at night and don’t sneak out!
He tested us on our movie knowledge, taking us to New College (yeah, original name) and showing us the courtyard. I guessed the scene straight away, it was really easy – it was the big tree where Malfoy was turned into a ferret by Mad-eye Moody in Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. I know, I know, sad that I know that!
We’re planning on a second trip to see the inside of Christ Church, the Bodleian Library and the Alice in Wonderland shop. When the tour finished after 4pm most places were closed or closing. But we found this great little chocolate shop in the market and had coffee and cake and AN expensive little chocolate. We walked around some of the shops until they closed, we stood in the card shop for ages giggling like two little kids at the funny sayings on the cards.
For dinner we ended up at a Thai restaurant close to our hostel. I had a really spicy dish that my mouth was on fire for agggeeeesss. It was pork in a chilli soupy sauce. I fetched the meat out and left the chillies and chilli water. The caramel parfait for dessert kind of helped cool my mouth down. Well I can’t say I never try anything new! Phew!
The hostel was from the eighties, rough. We had a ten bed dorm, and I must have been tired because Lija said she was talking to me and I didn’t answer, and I didn’t budge when these two drunk girls came in and made lots of noises. The mattresses had human-shaped cavities and the pillows were like pancakes.
On our way back to the dorm, we ran into a friend of Lija’s from Darwin, he was sitting on the broken couch on the floor strumming a guitar. First thing you notice about Aussie boys. Always strumming guitars. He was really nice though, and we all chatted for a bit.
The next morning, Sunday, our ‘continental’ breakfast was cereal with milk which had been defrosted from the freezer, toast, a slab of some kind of sausage meat which could have been ham but I’m not sure, and grated cheese, and that weird cordial fruit juice stuff that comes in a big vat.
We buggered off to the bus stop, so we could meet Dad at home. His flight got to London at 10am, and we left Oxford at half nine. He had to change trains to the District Line, and we had to get on the District Line at Victoria Station. We got this text from him going through Bow Station, saying ‘I’m here!’ as Lija checked the empty doorway at our place as we went past it on the train. Yep, that’s right, when we got off at Bromley-by-bow, there’s Dad not 200 metres away and three carriages down!
He had texted me along the way to say ‘Just met Eddie at airport, had a chat’ and I’m thinking, ‘Who’s Eddie?’ Of all people, an Australian Collingwood fan bumps into the president of Collingwood FC at Heathrow Airport in London. What are the chances? Dad said Eddie had a broken hand so they shook with their lefties. He was on his way to Ireland to recruit.
After we got ourselves organised the three of us headed up to Camden market, and with no detox this time, we had small boxes of Chinese for 3 pounds for a late lunch and then a doughnut each – I had the triple chocolate: chocolate custard, icing and sprinkles…mmm…heaven!
Lija got Alex a shirt, which I can tell you about because he’s got it now, which is black and has a huge face with headphones on it and it says ‘Not Listening’ which is exactly like him. That goes with the blue sweater Dad and I got which has the stages of human evolution with an extra one added where man is back to being hunched over…at a computer. It says “Somewhere something went wrong”! Do I need to explain more?
We didn’t stay in Camden long, as I wasn’t sure what time Imogen was getting back. Lija got of at Tottenham Crt Rd to switch to the Central Line and Dad and I stayed on the Northern Line all the way down to Clapham Common. It was just easier to be closer to home, we went back to the house but only stayed long enough to turn the heating back on and head out to the Frog-and-forget-me-not pub down the street. We missed the England V Switzerland Six Nations game, but there were highlights of other matches on, so we sat in the nice warmth there until Imo called me to say they were home. Marina had driven her home, as she lives in Notting Hill.
Imo sat writing her diary while I was pottering about emptying the dishwasher etc, but I had no food in the house so we went out for dinner. We ordered a cab, but I swear the driver was on something. His eyes were bloodshot and red, and I swear he was on something. Instead of turning left and left and being in the main street, he took us right and what seemed like some zigzag, which was so not cool! It took about 8 minutes to get around the corner!
Anyway, we found a nice looking restaurant called Strada, which turned out to be Italian with wood-fired pizzas – and boy were they real Italian pizzas. Dad and I got two different ones and shared, and Imogen ate a whole one herself. She somehow also managed to fit in dessert, but as I’m enjoying the Italian digsestive – a strong thick black espresso, I enjoyed that immensly.
We half had to carry Imogen up to the station, because there were no taxis when we stepped outside and the company we usually use didn’t have a free cab for 45 minutes, and Dad got Imogen worked up in hysterics so much so that she just couldn’t walk properly – it looked like we were carrying a drunkard up the street. And it was five times worse when Dad suggested, as we walked past Sainsburys, that we nick a trolley and stick Imo in that to get home. Oh my gosh! Luckily Dad was able to flag down a black cab for us girls, then he had to catch the tube back to Bromley.
I had to walk Imogen up the stairs still in hysterics adamant that she needed to write in her diary about the night and what good value Dad is. She really enjoyed his company and asked if he was coming back the next day. Oh and isn’t that another story, a whole ‘nother one that you will hear right here right now, just keep reading…
Dad came up on Monday morning and just as we were about to go out I get a call from Imo, ‘I’m not feeling good, can you come and get me?’ So we walked up to the college and the poor thing was white as a sheet and stiff as a board. We piled her into a cab, of course one where the walker wouldn’t fit in the back of the car so it had to go in the side, so I gave Dad my keys and the fare and half ran, half power-walked to meet them back at home.
Got her upstairs, in bed, panadol, facewasher, the lot. She slept for about 5 hours, got up and had a tea, threw up, slept for another four hours and got up for a bit. In the end Dad prepared dinner while I did some writing, and then we watched the movie Hot Fuzz, which is a really funny British comedy, and then we cooked dinner together and Dad went home. I suppose there’s not much else we could do, but we were desperate to go out on the town on Tuesday night. In the end Patricia organised for Vanessa to come over from Strand, which I was really excited about because I knew Imo would get along well with her – another Melbourne girl!
This is a bit long, so it’s TBC in the next part…
Tags: Travel
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