England: High Tea & Wanderings in Oxford

I left Sheffield by train to head towards Oxford.  Thecamelridingcowgirl got on my same train in Birmingham (where she lives now), and so we were able to connect on the train, which was cool.  Our B&B was out in the country, not in town, and so we took a taxi out there, dropped our things off, and hopped back into the taxi to go back to town.  (Fatal mistake that would make for a bit of drama later.  Stay tuned...)

We immediately headed towards The Grand Café for high tea.  I'd already searched on the internet for the best places to have cream tea, and we'd planned to have it each day.  (Little did I know what was to come.  Again, stay tuned...) I've never had high tea before.  In hindsight, we should have ordered one, plus an extra pot of tea.  Instead, we ordered two, and were given so much food.  

Our high tea consisted of two sandwiches (each): egg salad and salmon with cream cheese, two scones (each), a pot of tea (each), and several bite-size desserts.  While I did eat my sandwiches, I only ate half a scone, which still makes me sad.  Lesson learned: share the high tea!

We wandered around a bit, and saw the punting boats lined up by the river.

The Radcliffe Camera at the Bodleian Library.

The Herford Bridge, also known as the Bridge of Sighs (like the one in Venice).

Visitor's Entrance to the Ministry of Magic?  Or just a normal telephone booth?

Pretty door/corner near (or at?) the Bodleian Library.

Fun heads at the Bodleian Library.

Cool old building.  In my head, this is what all old England looks like.

And all old England has cool random turrets added to their buildings as well (in my head)...

As we were wandering, thecamelridingcowgirl spotted this cutely-named knitting store.  Since she's a master knitter, it seemed appropriate to take her photo in front.

In England, even the post office doorway is beautiful.  Love it.

Christ Church College gardens.

Some shy cows across the way from Christ Church College.

A nice lady at the Office of Tourism told us about a rooftop pub where we could watch the sunset.  We headed on up and enjoyed chatting as the sun laid itself down to sleep.

We tried to find the bus that would take us home and couldn't, also realizing that we probably wouldn't know when to get off, as dark as the countryside would be.  So we asked a taxi if he knew where our place was, and he said he did so we climbed in.  He talked to us the entire way, telling how much the meter would go up if he'd taken this road or that one, how many pennies it would go up when the light was red instead of green.  I whispered to thecamelridingcowgirl that he was a chatty cathy.

Once we were out in the country, where we couldn't see a thing, he pulled into a road and asked if that was where our B&B was.  Nope... "Sir, you said you knew the road."

"I've been driving in Oxford for 20 years, but I've never heard of your road."

He pulled over again and tried to pull up the GPS on his phone...the whole time leaving the meter running.  He then told thecamelridingcowgirl that the postal code she'd given him needed another number than the standard amount she'd told him.  We grew quite exasperated, and I asked him to please stop the meter.  thecamelridingcowgirl was convinced he was a new driver who didn't know his way around his finger, even though he said he'd been driving for 20 years in Oxford.

We eventually found our B&B (don't ask me how, I still don't know), and paid him the amount we'd paid the driver earlier in the day.  Once inside, we exclaimed, "Quel drama!"  We had a light dinner of some tea and biscuits, and headed to bed...excited for our day to come.

I forgot to mention that the day before, I'd broken my pinky toe.  That might not seem relevant right now, but as the tales from the week build, it'll come back up.