Oxford & Cotswolds or Carrie is extremely heroic
0 Comments Published by ginny on Thursday, January 24, 2002 at 5:39 PM.
12:32 p.m. 29 October 2002
This entry is being composed on lavender. And right now it looks like it's floating in the sky above the ocean, because that's the picture on my desktop. It's kind of pretty.
So, as you will know if you read Carrie's entry, we went to the Cotswolds on the weekend. It was enchanting.
That's a stupid word, and makes me sound like I'm trying to be high society or something (dahlink), but it's the best superlative I could come up with.
The train ride up was fairly uneventful. We were very resourceful in locating the platform, even though it was not being displayed on the sign when we got there. (For "very resourceful," read "I looked only at the "arrivals" section like fifty times, even though Carrie carefuly explained it would be in the "departures" section.")
We discussed also Carrie's irrational hatred of Paddington Bear, due to his connection with stop-motion animation.
When we got up to Morton-in-Marsh, our plan was to go bike riding to several little towns around the region. Carrie's friend Sarah had previously done it, and it sounded way cool.
The first place we looked at was closed, but as we walked into the town center, we saw a toy shop, went in, and discovered that they rented bikes too. Moral: always go in toy shops.
The people were wonderful, and incredibly cute, and we loved them. And they rented us some bikes.
We were off. Or rather, Carrie was off.
Because probably not fifteen minutes into the ride, I collapsed into a blubbering heap of jelly on the side of the road, moaning "oh, my heart. I think I'm going to die. I'm going to throw up. My legs have fallen off." Or something of that nature.
Carrie zipped back, executed a few effortless circles around my bike, did a wheelie, and dismounted.
Can you tell yet who is a fit heroic champion of physical stamina in this story and who is a fat lump? Hint. I'm not the first one.
I tried again, and got just a little further, but it became rapidly clear that I would not make it through a 25-35 mile bike ride. I wasn't even going to make it through a 1-mile bike ride.
I'm not exactly sure why it was so hard, but man it was hard. I mean, I really thought I was dying. I was very disappointed in myself for being so weak, but there it was. I was going to have to turn back.
"Go on ....without me...." I gasped, holding one hand to my heart. "Save....the others."
Carrie, brave soul that she is, agreed to shoulder the burden and continue, whereas I limped back to my bike and began to ride verrrrry slowly back to town. Actually, it wasn't so incredibly slow, because it was downhill back that way, but anyway.
So the upshot was, Carrie went on a 35 mile bike ride and saw lots of the Cotswolds and I...visited charity shops.
Actually, staying in Morton-in-Marsh all day was really nice. The toy shop people were really kind about me returning my bike (I told them I was ill. so they wouldn't have to know what a terrible weakling I was. Later, I instructed Carrie to tell everyone I "chickened out," rather than "collapsed," for the same reason.) and I spent the rest of the day wandering around the (three) streets of the town.
When people say the Cotswold villiages are beautiful, they're not kidding. I mean, I'm not usually so big on stone architecture, but every building in this place was charming. There's two real pretty churches, and little shops, and little houses, and everything beautiful. It was cool.
I also bought some jeans (they are not fashionable in the least, but at least they fit on my body) and a sweater, and a scarf and hat. I promptly lost the scarf on the way home sunday. I hate this.
Eventually, Carrie came back, fresh and vigorous as ever, and we ate an enormous omlette and got on the train to Oxford, to meet these friends of Carrie's family who'd really graciously agreed to put us up for the night.
This is when things get very dramatic. We got to Oxford, and since we were early, we decided to go to their house ourselves. Which we almost did, but then at the very last we couldn't figure out where we were. (Later it turns out we were just in the wrong part of the street.)
So we called Tess to come pick us up, and we were about to approach her car, when suddenly this gang of thugs ran at us, screaming, out of the trees, brandishing clubs and swords and things.
I'll tell you, I was terrified. We can see from the previous paragraphs exactly how tough I am. But incredibly fortunately for me, Carrie was there, with her nerves of steel.
I mean, she must have fought off like twelve guys singlehandedly. It was like Xena and Jackie Chan combined, man. Whirlwind of fists. That's all I'm sayin.
And after they'd all run (of course), the only thing she had to show for it was a few bruises and a cut on her nose. Amazing, huh?
[[what's above is the real version of the story. you might think that she slipped on some wet leaves and sort of kind of passed out because she hates blood. but you'd be wrong.
actually, it was pretty scary, but luckily Tess was there, so it all turned out fine. She is a very taking-care-of-things person.]]
So we got to Tess's, and they were lovely and nice and really cool, and Carrie took a bath to recover from her battle wounds, and we went to bed.
In the morning was Oxford. Which is beautiful and I love it. I mean, I love Oxford. It is so cool. And beautiful. And uncroweded and undirty and un-London. I really enjoyed getting to see it.
Carrie and I split up, and I took a bus tour, walked around, and shopped, while Carrie shopped and, um, accidentally walked back to Tess and Mike's.
Actually, it's pretty cool -- even when she's lost, she's on her way home.
But anyway, we met up, had coffee, discussed my happiness that I'd located a plus-sized store with actual jeans that fit on my legs, and walked around Oxford a little more.
We also went to the Eagle and Child, the pub Tolkein and CS Lewis used to hang out at (when they were part of a group called the Inklings, which I think is pretty funny), which was cool. I had mulled wine, which is a great drink. I'm goign to learn how to make it.
We had to leave there,though, because the huge storms had damaged the roof. So we went back to Tess's, played a game, ate dinner, and went home on the bus.
Anway, it was a really cool weekend. I'm very glad we went. I think, actually, it's my favorite weekend trip so far, despite the fact that there wasn't horseback riding or even darling, dear Welsh horseback riding instructors involved. I'd love to go back to Oxford and look around. I may have kind of understood why people get workedu up about Cambridge when Mia and I went there, but I really understand why people get worked up about Oxford. What a place to get to study. Wow. The whole place just feels intellectually exciting.
I also really, really, really, really ,r really enjoyed being in a family home. They have a really buautiful house in a beautiful part of Oxford that's really almost the country, but even if it hadn't been, it was just incredibly wonderful to be in a home. With home-like, family-like people and food and things. I am so homesick. Oh well.
Okay. That's the end of this trip log. I think it's kind of hasty. At least I've written it.
p.s.: england is destroying my body. just so you know. More at 11.
This entry is being composed on lavender. And right now it looks like it's floating in the sky above the ocean, because that's the picture on my desktop. It's kind of pretty.
So, as you will know if you read Carrie's entry, we went to the Cotswolds on the weekend. It was enchanting.
That's a stupid word, and makes me sound like I'm trying to be high society or something (dahlink), but it's the best superlative I could come up with.
The train ride up was fairly uneventful. We were very resourceful in locating the platform, even though it was not being displayed on the sign when we got there. (For "very resourceful," read "I looked only at the "arrivals" section like fifty times, even though Carrie carefuly explained it would be in the "departures" section.")
We discussed also Carrie's irrational hatred of Paddington Bear, due to his connection with stop-motion animation.
When we got up to Morton-in-Marsh, our plan was to go bike riding to several little towns around the region. Carrie's friend Sarah had previously done it, and it sounded way cool.
The first place we looked at was closed, but as we walked into the town center, we saw a toy shop, went in, and discovered that they rented bikes too. Moral: always go in toy shops.
The people were wonderful, and incredibly cute, and we loved them. And they rented us some bikes.
We were off. Or rather, Carrie was off.
Because probably not fifteen minutes into the ride, I collapsed into a blubbering heap of jelly on the side of the road, moaning "oh, my heart. I think I'm going to die. I'm going to throw up. My legs have fallen off." Or something of that nature.
Carrie zipped back, executed a few effortless circles around my bike, did a wheelie, and dismounted.
Can you tell yet who is a fit heroic champion of physical stamina in this story and who is a fat lump? Hint. I'm not the first one.
I tried again, and got just a little further, but it became rapidly clear that I would not make it through a 25-35 mile bike ride. I wasn't even going to make it through a 1-mile bike ride.
I'm not exactly sure why it was so hard, but man it was hard. I mean, I really thought I was dying. I was very disappointed in myself for being so weak, but there it was. I was going to have to turn back.
"Go on ....without me...." I gasped, holding one hand to my heart. "Save....the others."
Carrie, brave soul that she is, agreed to shoulder the burden and continue, whereas I limped back to my bike and began to ride verrrrry slowly back to town. Actually, it wasn't so incredibly slow, because it was downhill back that way, but anyway.
So the upshot was, Carrie went on a 35 mile bike ride and saw lots of the Cotswolds and I...visited charity shops.
Actually, staying in Morton-in-Marsh all day was really nice. The toy shop people were really kind about me returning my bike (I told them I was ill. so they wouldn't have to know what a terrible weakling I was. Later, I instructed Carrie to tell everyone I "chickened out," rather than "collapsed," for the same reason.) and I spent the rest of the day wandering around the (three) streets of the town.
When people say the Cotswold villiages are beautiful, they're not kidding. I mean, I'm not usually so big on stone architecture, but every building in this place was charming. There's two real pretty churches, and little shops, and little houses, and everything beautiful. It was cool.
I also bought some jeans (they are not fashionable in the least, but at least they fit on my body) and a sweater, and a scarf and hat. I promptly lost the scarf on the way home sunday. I hate this.
Eventually, Carrie came back, fresh and vigorous as ever, and we ate an enormous omlette and got on the train to Oxford, to meet these friends of Carrie's family who'd really graciously agreed to put us up for the night.
This is when things get very dramatic. We got to Oxford, and since we were early, we decided to go to their house ourselves. Which we almost did, but then at the very last we couldn't figure out where we were. (Later it turns out we were just in the wrong part of the street.)
So we called Tess to come pick us up, and we were about to approach her car, when suddenly this gang of thugs ran at us, screaming, out of the trees, brandishing clubs and swords and things.
I'll tell you, I was terrified. We can see from the previous paragraphs exactly how tough I am. But incredibly fortunately for me, Carrie was there, with her nerves of steel.
I mean, she must have fought off like twelve guys singlehandedly. It was like Xena and Jackie Chan combined, man. Whirlwind of fists. That's all I'm sayin.
And after they'd all run (of course), the only thing she had to show for it was a few bruises and a cut on her nose. Amazing, huh?
[[what's above is the real version of the story. you might think that she slipped on some wet leaves and sort of kind of passed out because she hates blood. but you'd be wrong.
actually, it was pretty scary, but luckily Tess was there, so it all turned out fine. She is a very taking-care-of-things person.]]
So we got to Tess's, and they were lovely and nice and really cool, and Carrie took a bath to recover from her battle wounds, and we went to bed.
In the morning was Oxford. Which is beautiful and I love it. I mean, I love Oxford. It is so cool. And beautiful. And uncroweded and undirty and un-London. I really enjoyed getting to see it.
Carrie and I split up, and I took a bus tour, walked around, and shopped, while Carrie shopped and, um, accidentally walked back to Tess and Mike's.
Actually, it's pretty cool -- even when she's lost, she's on her way home.
But anyway, we met up, had coffee, discussed my happiness that I'd located a plus-sized store with actual jeans that fit on my legs, and walked around Oxford a little more.
We also went to the Eagle and Child, the pub Tolkein and CS Lewis used to hang out at (when they were part of a group called the Inklings, which I think is pretty funny), which was cool. I had mulled wine, which is a great drink. I'm goign to learn how to make it.
We had to leave there,though, because the huge storms had damaged the roof. So we went back to Tess's, played a game, ate dinner, and went home on the bus.
Anway, it was a really cool weekend. I'm very glad we went. I think, actually, it's my favorite weekend trip so far, despite the fact that there wasn't horseback riding or even darling, dear Welsh horseback riding instructors involved. I'd love to go back to Oxford and look around. I may have kind of understood why people get workedu up about Cambridge when Mia and I went there, but I really understand why people get worked up about Oxford. What a place to get to study. Wow. The whole place just feels intellectually exciting.
I also really, really, really, really ,r really enjoyed being in a family home. They have a really buautiful house in a beautiful part of Oxford that's really almost the country, but even if it hadn't been, it was just incredibly wonderful to be in a home. With home-like, family-like people and food and things. I am so homesick. Oh well.
Okay. That's the end of this trip log. I think it's kind of hasty. At least I've written it.
p.s.: england is destroying my body. just so you know. More at 11.
Labels: being dumb, England, friends, space, trips
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