Oxford (Day 2)

 Yesterday evening Angela took a walk around the campsite. Is it wise to cook two large steaks on an outside grill with your greyhound tethered to the fence close by? Porta Potti's doubling up as coffee tables. Make your own mind up on that one! 

This morning the single lady next to us packed up her caravan and left. We were amused by the sign on the flap of her chemical toilet cupboard. 'No Stools Left in This Van Overnight'. We have noticed there are quite a few single people on the sight. When we arrived yesterday we chatted to a lady whose husband had died from a sudden heart attack. She was from Bournemouth of all places. It being the first day of the bank holiday we thought we might like to stay at the Oxford campsite another night to avoid joining traffic on the M40. Sorry, fully booked all bank holiday. Sorry Marge, let's see if we can find you a little space in a parking area on the edge of the city. John was not so easily defeated and asked the site manager if a cancellation was likely. No need, we have one space. Result. But we'd have to move Marge to another pitch. What was not to like. No neighbours opposite or to one side and in the sun all day. 

When we lived in Buckinghamshire we used to visit Oxford quite regularly, so keen to make the most of our time here we saddled up and cycled into the city taking the cycle path through the university gardens and down to the river Cherwell, where we sat a while to lunch and watch the wildlife. Across the water Angela spotted what she thought was a large fungi on a fallen tree.

Angela, you should have gone to Specsavers. Oh, you did. It was a large terrapin basking in the heat of the midday sun. A family thought it was a tortoise let loose into the wild and were preparing to give it a home. Not a good idea.

On the far bank a pair of swans, soulmates for life tended their nest and a heron stood to attention scanning the water. We had missed all this pleasure. In the distance we could hear Great Tom sounding out from the bell tower in St. Aldgate's whilst overhead the Lancaster bomber from the Battle of Britain Memorial Flight enroute to London to take part in the fly past to celebrate the Queen's platinum jubilee flew low over the trees.

Fine weather on a bank holiday in Oxford brings out the boaters. All convinced they're good at punting. We've seen it before, and today was no different.

As we looked down to the water from Magdalen bridge chaos was in full swing. Have another glass of prosecco, you won't feel the cold too much when you fall in the water. Hilarious!  

Right Marge, tomorrow Stratford upon Avon. Meanwhile let's have a little tipple to celebrate the Queens platinum jubilee. Might even fire up the grill. No punting though!

Oxford

On leaving Askett our next stop was Thame to power wash Marge and fill her up with diesel. Two pounds a litre! Bargain. Then on to the Oxford campsite where last time we stayed Marge decided to immobilise just as we arrived. You've guessed it. She did the same today. Don't you like it here Marge? The staff at the Oxford Camping and Caravanning Club Site are a little officious, so when we asked if we could move Marge to another pitch, we were probably considered awkward customers.

Marge settled we took a walk down to the river Thames where John knew chicken of the woods was probably growing on a damaged willow tree. Success, the bright yellow fungi shone like a beacon. It is now inside Marge. There's a surprise! The towpath alongside the river was fairly quiet, our walk disturbed by only a handful of cyclists and joggers.

At Iffley lock the geese were fiercely protective of their goslings, hissing at Angela as she walked by. We miss the river Thames, its tranquillity and beauty.

Today it looked perfect, still and peaceful reflecting the trees along its banks. The only disturbance some rowers and an electric tourist boat cutting the water as they passed by. 

Tonight, the campsite will be full. We don't usually go away in the school holidays. In the ladies showers children were squeezed in to cubicles with their mothers squealing and chattering. Suddenly a little voice said, 'I need a wee'. Silence, while we all waited. 

Hopefully tomorrow Marge will fire up without a problem and we will move further on into the Cotswolds.

Under a bridge over the Thames we saw this fantastically painted graffiti