Missing out on meeting Jeremy Clarkson by just two days is probably up there as one of the most frustrating moments of my life. As I approached the bookshop/cafe I’d found online, I instantly saw a sign announcing, “Jeremy Clarkson and Caleb Cooper here on Friday and Saturday!” Sod’s Law, of course, that I was in Chipping Norton on a Wednesday. It didn’t help my disappointment, either, to find that the ‘bookshop/cafe’ I’d hoped for was just a bookshop, and only a cafe on weekends. I left the shop indignantly and headed instead to Cafe Nero.
It wasn’t the best start to my first proper venture beyond the bubble, and as I sat in Cafe Nero, I felt cross with myself for resorting to a familiar setting rather than supporting a small business. However, I can’t knock the place – it was the nicest Cafe Nero I’ve ever visited.
I travelled on the S3 Bus from Oxford City Centre at 8:40 in the morning so that I could arrive early for a full working day. This meant that the cafe was virtually empty, so I had ample choice of seating. Typical, though, that whilst getting my hot chocolate (with marshmallows and cream…duh!), both window seats were snapped up. Luckily, I wasn’t too bothered because I was so desperate to demolish my cinnamon bun by that point that it truly didn’t matter where I sat. I trotted over to a comfy armchair tucked around a corner and set up my workspace for the morning.
Surprisingly, I was able to get rather a lot of work done. The cafe stayed virtually empty right up until lunchtime, so there were minimal distractions. However, it was an altogether different story once the clock struck twelve and a battalion of locals turned up for lunch, ready to fight for seats. After overhearing a few comments such as, “She’s taking up a table with her laptop!” and, “All the good tables are taken” (which were, to be fair, completely valid comments), I swiftly packed up my things and headed for the door.
I wanted to spend my lunch break wandering beyond the village centre to ensure I was getting the most out of my visit. I headed south, passing the occasional builder and greeting them with a, “Hi, how are you?” (another home comfort, absent in the busy streets of Oxford’s City Centre), until I reached a point of no return and the pavement disappeared. It should’ve, perhaps, been obvious that Chipping Norton wasn’t a large village, and I would eventually reach the edge.
Well, what Chipping Norton lacks in width, it certainly makes up for in height. On my way back towards the village centre, I encountered a sign saying, “Station Mill Antiques Centre”. Growing up with a father who spends his whole life in antique shops, I now have an inbuilt need to visit one whenever I get the opportunity. The only issue was that the Station Mill Antiques Centre was at the bottom of a very, very, very steep hill: so steep that I couldn’t even see the bottom of it as I stood at the top. However, as I walked down – and kept on walking for what seemed like a solid 20 minutes – I eventually reached the most beautiful antique shop I have ever seen. It was the size of an industrial warehouse and packed to the brim with the most uniquely fascinating objects. I would have bought the shop out if I could, but that would’ve made a difficult bus journey back. I had to explain my inability to transport a rather fetching giraffe-shaped standard lamp to my disappointed dad when I told him I’d visited an antique store that day.
After sweating through my shirt, jumper and puffer coat in an attempt to get back to the top of the hill, I was more than ready to eat my packed lunch on a bench I had spotted earlier. I sat amongst the falling leaves, feeling content and calm. This was the sense of peace I had been looking for, to distract myself from feeling homesick at university.
A pub, The King’s Arms, was opposite me while I ate my lunch. I sat for a while contemplating the various outcomes of choosing it as the base for my next study session. 1. I could get in there, find it heaving with people, and not have a chance of concentrating; 2. I could arrive and, as a woman alone at the bar, give totally the wrong impression; or 3. I could sit down in a comfy chair, with a nice glass of lemonade, in a virtually empty pub, with wonderful 80s tunes playing softly in the background. Luckily for me, it was the last outcome.
By 4 pm I finished my work and headed out to the bus stop on the opposite side of the street. Once onboard the bus back to the City Centre, I smiled to myself. I had genuinely had a truly wonderful day. I felt calm and at peace, for once, away from home. When I stepped off the S3 bus at George Street, I had a newfound sense of optimism about my final year at university.