Every weekend's an occasion in Oxfordshire

When I left Maggie and Paul, I took a train into Oxfordshire to see some English friends. John and Ruth and I always seem to get together for occasions – like somebody’s milestone birthday – when there’s little time to sit and chat. I thought it would be fun to see them for an ordinary weekend for a change. Since my last visit they had moved to a new house in a different village so I was looking forward to seeing that, too. And it would be good to relax after two busy days in London.
John met me at the station and cheerfully greeted me with the news “We’re going into London to join friends for dinner this evening and spend the night with them. We’ll be leaving in two hours.”
“Will I have time for a cup of tea first?” was all I could think of to say.
The dinner turned out to be an iftar at a Lebanese restaurant about a quarter of an hour’s drive from Heathrow Airport. Five Muslims and four non-Muslims shared a delicious (and copious) meal





Food kept appearing and we kept eating it. And just when we thought we were finished, the main course arrived.




Only some were actually breaking a fast.



But we all ate as if we were.
The next morning, after breakfast, we drove back to John and Ruth’s to prepare for …… a garden party.
A group of neighbors were getting together to have an official send-off for a couple who had moved the beginning of summer. It was a beautiful afternoon – the only one during this stay in England.

Angus was in charge of the barbecue.



Rachel organized everything else.



And a good time was had by all.






Afterwards, we did have a little time to relax in John and Ruth’s own garden



in the company of Gracie



and later took a walk around the village. It’s just the kind of English village I like. You expect to see Miss Marple popping out of one of the thatched cottages.



Several of the cottages and houses date from the 16th and 17th century and there are still two working farms.
And a pub, of course.



It is on the river Thame (not a spelling mistake; a different river) which, John and Ruth told me, was once navigable. At that time, carts brought fruits and vegetables from the surrounding area down to the river to be transported to London.
The river now has more graceful traffic.



Early the next morning (very early it seemed) John drove me to the station near where he works to get a train back to London where I caught the Eurostar for Paris. “Well,” I said to myself drowsily as I settled into my seat. “I guess every weekend’s an occasion in Oxfordshire.”