A good day
Today we got up before eight (does that time even exist on a Saturday? Apparently so) to go down to Bicester, to the birthday party of the gorgeous Miss G, the two-year-old daughter of oxfordia. It was delightful.
A morning party makes a lot of sense when the guests who matter mostly still take an afternoon nap, and this one worked beautifully. It was in a village hall, so there was lots of space and not much to worry about being damaged. Lots of balloons around to start with, so the little ones could carry them around, throw them at each other and have fun. Coffee, croissants and other goodies for the adults and an enormous platter of grapes and a huge bowl of oranges just there. Most of the little ones were way more interested in the grapes than the more stodgy food and the hostess was particularly keen on checking they were all just so. She is a real fruit-bat.
Halfway through the local pre-school group's store of ride-on and ride-in toys appeared, so it turned into very gentle, slow-motion dodgems. Then there was one game of pass-the parcel, with backup treats for any child distressed by having to hand it over.
By noon everyone had drifted away. Dave and I stayed to help clear up (because you can take the teacher out of the classroom, but never can you destroy certain instincts) and the moved on.
Oxfordshire was looking particularly beautiful today. The wooded hillsides were brindled green and gold, with some spectacular individual trees in their autumn finery. There was sunshine glintong off the grey-brown branches which had already lost their leaves and blue skies robbed with gentle clouds.
We had the trusty Good Pub Guide to hand and found one just south of Banbury, which served Hook Norton beer and fishcakes which should rather have been called "fish boulders", crispy on the outside, moist and succulent within and coated with a hollandaise sauce full of chopped parsley. One portion of chips between two was too much, and a salad arrived dressed with balsamic vinegar and oil.
It was a proper local pub too, though, with folks drifting in halfway through walking the dogs for a swift half and a chat, or to book a Christmas party lunch, or for a bowl of soup guaranteed to keep the chill out. The Red Lion at Steeple Aston, since you ask.
We drove home the back way rather than using the M40. The Cotswolds run up as far as Banbury, at least in terms of architecture, with most houses built out of that creamy stone which goes a dark gold with age, or out of brick mimicking it at least. There were gentle, rolling hills until we reached the edge of the plateau, after which Edgehill is named and dropped down into Warwickshire sandstone territory. And so home, via the post office to relicense my car, to a coffee and an afternoon determinedly doing not a great deal.
England put on its party clothes today. The weather is closing in now, with rain and wind expected, though nothing on the scale the US East Coast seems to be undergoing. If you live there, keep safe and warm, OK?
Jimmy Saville died today. Odd guy - a real loner, but dedicated almost equally to self-promotion and genuine charity work. I remember he bleached his hair so much it makes Spike look an amateur - and on one occasion actually died his hair in the colours and pattern of the Union Jack. He was the first presenter of Top of the Pops how tempus does fugit, eh?
No photos - I took my camera and it stayed forgotten on a table throughout the party. Sorry.
ETA: I can haz spiders! Many thanks to louise39 for the cute little top-hatted critters!
And finally - bloody clocks go back tonight. I shall miss the daylight.
A morning party makes a lot of sense when the guests who matter mostly still take an afternoon nap, and this one worked beautifully. It was in a village hall, so there was lots of space and not much to worry about being damaged. Lots of balloons around to start with, so the little ones could carry them around, throw them at each other and have fun. Coffee, croissants and other goodies for the adults and an enormous platter of grapes and a huge bowl of oranges just there. Most of the little ones were way more interested in the grapes than the more stodgy food and the hostess was particularly keen on checking they were all just so. She is a real fruit-bat.
Halfway through the local pre-school group's store of ride-on and ride-in toys appeared, so it turned into very gentle, slow-motion dodgems. Then there was one game of pass-the parcel, with backup treats for any child distressed by having to hand it over.
By noon everyone had drifted away. Dave and I stayed to help clear up (because you can take the teacher out of the classroom, but never can you destroy certain instincts) and the moved on.
Oxfordshire was looking particularly beautiful today. The wooded hillsides were brindled green and gold, with some spectacular individual trees in their autumn finery. There was sunshine glintong off the grey-brown branches which had already lost their leaves and blue skies robbed with gentle clouds.
We had the trusty Good Pub Guide to hand and found one just south of Banbury, which served Hook Norton beer and fishcakes which should rather have been called "fish boulders", crispy on the outside, moist and succulent within and coated with a hollandaise sauce full of chopped parsley. One portion of chips between two was too much, and a salad arrived dressed with balsamic vinegar and oil.
It was a proper local pub too, though, with folks drifting in halfway through walking the dogs for a swift half and a chat, or to book a Christmas party lunch, or for a bowl of soup guaranteed to keep the chill out. The Red Lion at Steeple Aston, since you ask.
We drove home the back way rather than using the M40. The Cotswolds run up as far as Banbury, at least in terms of architecture, with most houses built out of that creamy stone which goes a dark gold with age, or out of brick mimicking it at least. There were gentle, rolling hills until we reached the edge of the plateau, after which Edgehill is named and dropped down into Warwickshire sandstone territory. And so home, via the post office to relicense my car, to a coffee and an afternoon determinedly doing not a great deal.
England put on its party clothes today. The weather is closing in now, with rain and wind expected, though nothing on the scale the US East Coast seems to be undergoing. If you live there, keep safe and warm, OK?
Jimmy Saville died today. Odd guy - a real loner, but dedicated almost equally to self-promotion and genuine charity work. I remember he bleached his hair so much it makes Spike look an amateur - and on one occasion actually died his hair in the colours and pattern of the Union Jack. He was the first presenter of Top of the Pops how tempus does fugit, eh?
No photos - I took my camera and it stayed forgotten on a table throughout the party. Sorry.
ETA: I can haz spiders! Many thanks to louise39 for the cute little top-hatted critters!
And finally - bloody clocks go back tonight. I shall miss the daylight.