*flop*

[brrm]

Well, today (9am BST-8pm BST) I have mostly been: driving. A grand total of 558 miles door to door. Pretty uneventful, really, for most of it.

The club lounge in the ferry (Pride of Kent, IIRC) was very attractively decorated - a modern take on art deco, reminiscent of the '30s. The bathroom even had proper sinks, and a series of little cubby-holes, each of which contained a clean white face flannel. Truly a place out of time, the illusion shattered when I returned to the car deck, modern cars with suspension straining under boots packed with Stella.

As I approached Oxford (I could swear all the first distance signs to Oxford read '42' - at least this one (M40) and the one on the route from Cambridge do), I was greeted by a beautiful sunset. Bubblegum-pink clouds close to the horizon, and above them a second set of clouds. The belly of these was fiery orange, with grey nebulous fingers of rain descending from them, but not quite reaching more than a few hundred metres below the cloud before disappearing. On the horizon, aeroplane con trails cut the sky with thin white lines.

I passed under these clouds, then descended into the valley (if you've been on the M40 from London to Oxford, you'll know where I mean), the visibility was perfect, the sky now a cloudless gradient from pale blue to orange.

I decided to drive back through town. As I drove past Latino's, the ipod chose to play Pulp - Babies. I asked it to play Radiohead - High & Dry (a favourite of mine for travelling up Banbury Rd, by bike or by car). But it told me the batteries were flat, and died. Ah well.

Enough of the GCSE English essay-standard prose. I'm back. Hello.

Comments

[bopeepsheep.livejournal.com]

That bit where it goes through the cutting and out into the valley is known as Chickenshit Gorge. When I was a child (and lived three miles from there) the cutting was blinding white, having just been cut through the chalk. So white was it that it actually caused accidents on sunny days, and was also quite crumbly. I recall seeing bits of the chalk fall off and into the road. In the 1970s it was sprayed regularly with liquid guano from the local chicken farms, which encouraged the growth of lichen. This holds it all together and gives it the greeny-grey appearance it now has.

This has been your Oxfordshire anecdote of the day.

[brrm.livejournal.com]

Chickenshit Gorge

Mmm, what a pleasant name. :)

Yes, it was rather bright, though mostly earlier, before I'd reached said gorge. There was a brief period where it was possible to read the road signs, i.e. when the sun passed behind them. Then, back to a blinding glare. It then occurred to me that the letters on road signs should let some light through from the back (but still reflect from the front). So when someone nicks my idea, folks, remember where you saw it first. :)

[jamesgreen.livejournal.com]

I'm told there is a town in Wales which is only signed on the roads from 17 miles away - no nearer, and no further.

Personally, I have my doubts :-)