Anyway, Sarah was late after an accident on the motorway, so I instead of going into Oxford to explore, I decided to take her to a splendid Inn that I discovered last weekend. It is called the Victoria Arms at Old Marston, and I think it probably has one of the best locations I have ever witnessed for a public house.
It is located in the picturesque village of Old Marston for a start off, and even better, the garden backs onto the river Thames, where you can hire punts if you are feeling a bit extreme and dangerous. I actually forgot to take a picture of the river, but you can see it a bit in the background behind me, below.
"What will you have to drink?" I asked.
"Bloody hell!" she said in her broad Yorkshire accent, pointing at the bar "They have got Pimms on tap! You don't get that in Leeds."
"Of course not," I said, "you lot have only just stopped eating coal." Yes. I had to duck.
"Duck!" I shouted at Sarah, and she nearly fell off the bench taking her Pimms with her.
"No, there," I said pointing at some feathery fowl that had casually wandered up to the table, and body-swerving the handbag that was aimed at my ear.
"Oooh, yes," she replied, "how about a curry?" We hotfooted it to a recommended curry house on Cowley Road in Oxford called Majliss Indian Restaurant (picking up Steve W from Baumhaus on the way because we saw his car parked outside his house).
The curry was actually really good, and the service was brilliant, so I would recommend it. Come and visit me, and I will take you!!
Finally it was back to Forest Hill to watch a band perform a gig in a newly erected marquee at the White Horse Inn. It seemed like the perfect end to a balmy Oxfordshire evening.
"That'll £12.00 each please," the lady on the door said.
"No way, I want a discount for being a Forest Hill resident," I demanded.
"Oh, ok then, you can come if for £5.00 each." she responded (nice lady but don't employ her as a negotiator). Excellent! at least I thought it was excellent until I heard the band. They had been going for 40 years and the biggest gig they could get was in Forest Hill [population circa 150], so I should have suspected something was a amiss beforehand.
I headed back to the lady on the door, and said, "you would make a killing if you charged £12.00 to get out." [I was only trying to tweak her business model].
At which point Sarah dragged me back to the rocking chair that Anwar (the landlord) had kindly provided for me because the marquee was full (it is located to the left of the picture - you can't see it).
For the rest of the evening we listened to 'covers' of Bob Dylan, Rolling Stones, etc, etc..... pure cheese. What a result.