Our trip seemed to be plagued by snafus at the outset.
We flew to Heathrow on Virgin Atlantic and Geo and I each paid slightly extra for window seats. However, I went a little cheaper and found myself at the very 'back of the bus' - literally the last row where the next seat was on the tail. And the seat came with no dinner, breakfast or even water and a snack. No frills taken to a new level.
In fact, the flight attendant never seemed to notice me and my Asian seat mate at all. Geo sat about 20 rows up and said he enjoyed a nice dinner and then good cup of coffee and nice breakfast But Geo fortunately saved a shrink wrapped stale muffin for me, as he was full
The bus from Heathrow to Oxford where we picked up our gravel bikes seemed to continue this clown show theme. The buses to Oxford run every 30 minutes and we arrived at 11:21 only to see the 11:20 bus pulling away. Wow, I thought, these guys are punctual! Well, the 11:60 bus left 30 minutes late and then the bus driver seemed to have graduated from the Italian school of bus driving- with attendant social breaks and whatever else- and we arrived in Oxford about 1 late. Actually, apologies to the Italian bus drivers as they seemed like a model of efficiency next to this Oxford bus.
We stumbled into this old English food market in Oxford where it seemed the only type of food you couldn't get was English. Maybe the British have finally wised up and rejected their own cuisine, I am not sure, but it was actually quite fun and good. The juxtaposition with the medieval architecture all around with Asian cuisine was another story.
After some initial fussing and flubbing around (mostly by Geo), we mounted our bikes and raced for Blenheim at the crack of dawn, which in England in late May occurs about 9:30 or perhaps a little after. A solstice thing, I am sure.
Biking on narrow roads or lanes in the Cotswold on the left side takes some getting used. The British consider 6 inches plenty of buffer while zooming by 50 mph or so, except the lorries which are in a bit of hurry. Of course, they go much faster on the other side where they are not concerned with inexperienced American cyclists.
But the Cotswold truly is the archetype of- and everyone's view of-the English countryside-
And Blenheim- ancestral home of the Churchill's and the birthplace of Winston- seems like it might be a nice place to have a quiet dinner with 80 or so of your best friends-
Except when you are strolling the confined English garden and modest grounds-
And the English have the absolute essentials of life down all in one place-
And for Tolkien fans, this door was the model for where in the LOR?-
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