Although we have 101 things to sort out for the trip, all of them are on hold right now. It seems to have been a week where we’ve identified many jobs that need doing, only to realise that a chain of three or four more jobs lie before the identified one. Frustrating isn’t the word. So, although a little unwillingly, we’ve had a much welcome lazy weekend these last couple of days. Because of the frustration-generated energy neither of us really wanted to sit around in the house though.
Yesterday we headed into London before splitting off on separate routes, Mickey to the Irish Embassy to tackle passport renewal and me to meet a friend for a jaunt up to Highgate cemetery. It feels like too long since spending time with her and once again I’m reminded of those I’ll miss when we leave, but yesterday we had the time to enjoy each other’s company, forget about what’s to come and exist in the moment.
Today, we headed out to buy tools for the bikes and somehow ended up driving down random country roads to see where they went…my favourite kind of driving. The day consisted of a trip to Waterperry gardens and a somewhat surreal conversation with the lovely curator of an agricultural museum about whether the word heighth existed at all. The museum is packed full of curiosities from a bygone era of country life and represents his retirement project, which he somewhat abashedly and more than a little endearingly described to us as ‘having gotten a little out of hand’. He needn’t have looked so sheepish though, the people I find the most interesting are those that let their interests run wild so that their passion can rub off on other people. He chatted to us about some of the pieces and told us the stories behind them and obviously knew each one individually. It was hard not to respond to his enthusiasm.
A slow winding drive back home that consisted of a handful of miles and a number of hours saw us stopping off to explore single track roads and footpaths leading off them (which turned out to be the Oxfordshire Way and has been bookmarked for later exploration), followed by a lovely pub lunch and the rugby at the Old Fisherman in Shabbington, next door to Ickford. One of the great joys of exploring Oxfordshire is discovering the weird and wonderful place names! Despite never finding the tools we set out to find, our lazy weekend was just the thing for forgetting about the world and our tasks temporarily.