Unlike the previous articles for this column, this article is not entirely about a peaceful trip beyond the bubble. In fact, my trip to Jeremy Clarkson’s pub turned out to be somewhat stressful.
The day began quite nicely. The sun was shining through glorious blue skies, and the air was crisp. As I sat on the S7 Bus on the way to Witney, I found myself transfixed by the view out of the window, although this had less to do with the weather and more to do with the fact we were driving past dozens of beautiful Cotswold mansions. After taking in every delicious detail of the immaculate gardens and grand facades, my brain went into overdrive. For the remainder of the journey, it buzzed and whirred, contemplating every possible route to earning the sort of income I would need to make the owner of the biggest and grandest of those houses an offer they couldn’t refuse. Sadly, once the impossible, improbable, and downright illegal career options were ruled out, I wasn’t left with much to work with. But, you never know! If you hear about me in the future through ‘Forbes’ 30 under 30’ list, then you have the honour of saying you read the article which inspired my success. A girl can dream…
Once the bus reached my stop at Witney, that’s when the trip started to become a source of stress. If you’ve read my previous account of my trip to Harcourt Arboretum then you’ll know that I won’t travel to a new location without having researched the route beforehand within an inch of its life. That’s why, when I read the sign at the bus stop saying that the 234 bus was due almost an hour after I’d expected, I was utterly astounded. Anyway, I brushed this off and decided to use the extra time to explore Witney High Street. Surrounded by gorgeous, quintessentially Cotswold buildings, I headed to the towering church I could see in the distance. It stood majestically against a clear blue backdrop, and the grass at its base was still covered in small patches of glimmering snow. It was stunning.
To fill the rest of the time, I wanted to find a small, independent cafe to warm myself up with a hot drink. Unfortunately, I had no such luck. I walked pretty much the entire length of the high street in search of any sign of a small business and instead was faced with chain after chain. The Cotswold village of Witney even had a TUI travel agent! It was a real shame, so I used the remaining time to get my steps in for the day and returned to the bus stop for the 234.
Luckily, my stop, ‘Ashthall Turn’, was right outside Clarkson’s pub so I had no problem navigating my way to the entrance. From the outside, the pub was a lot smaller than I had imagined. Though it was a whole different story when I stepped through the front door. It was like that scene in Harry Potter at the Quidditch World Cup, where the tent, on the inside, is the equivalent of a six-bedroom house. Every corner was packed full of people, and every table in sight was taken. Bearing in mind I had arrived only ten minutes after the pub had opened, I was struck with the realisation of how much money Jeremy Clarkson must be making from his new venture into catering.
When I asked at the counter for a table, they handed me a device, which they said would beep at me when a table was ready in… 1 and a half hours! A long wait ahead. I decided to walk over to ‘The Farmer’s Puppy’, a tent by the pub, in which there was a shop, various food stalls and an area full of wooden benches. I bought the obligatory jar of ‘Bee Juice’ (Clarkson’s honey) and a cup of sparkling blackcurrant, and sat myself down on a bench in front of the glass windows. These windows were huge. They took up pretty much an entire wall and looked out onto a beautiful and vast landscape. The autumn colours were still in full force too, so the view was even more breathtaking. Good job really, because when I started scrolling on my phone to pass the time, I realised that my phone had massively gone down in battery. I knew that, for safety, I needed my phone for the journey back to Oxford later, so I had no choice but to undertake a digital detox for an hour or so.
It was actually rather refreshing…eventually. For the first fifteen minutes, I was shocked by how immensely uncomfortable I was. I found myself subconsciously reaching for my phone and had to snap myself out of it. I found my mind wandering, and then all of a sudden, I’d start thinking about going on my phone. Honestly, you seriously don’t realise how much you are addicted to technology until you are forced not to use it. Awful really.
Eventually though, I was able to be fully present and my thoughts started to unravel in amazing ways. With my eyes gazing over the incredible scenery before me, my brain was ticking away, revealing all sorts of thoughts that I’d been subconsciously carrying around as neurological baggage. It was like a meditation. It probably was one.
Anyway, when I’d finished mentally putting the world to rights after about an hour and forty-five minutes, the device next to me started beeping. Very loudly, actually. I was slightly embarrassed as the noise had drawn attention to me, particularly as I was on my own. But, I reminded myself that I had just as much right to be there as anyone else who’d come in a group. This became a particularly important affirmation when they sat me at a table for four in the restaurant. Internal monologue: “God, those people walking past who’ve waited for over an hour for a table must think I am so selfish!” …. “No, you have just as much right to be here as they have….”
The wait for a table had been long. Now that I think about it, it was even more incredible considering I was on table 402. This means that over 400 groups of people had arrived and been seated within ten minutes of the pub opening! Baffling! Nonetheless, the food service was amazingly fast. I was served within two minutes of seeing the menu and was presented with my starter within 5 minutes of ordering. I had ordered a leek and potato soup for starter, followed by a treacle tart for dessert. The price of both equalled a main course, so I thought it better to try two different things. Both were absolutely delicious, and I left the pub feeling as full as a tick.
This is when things got a little more interesting. When I got to the bus stop, I was faced with the stark reality that I’d just missed the bus by five minutes and the next bus would be in two hours. Not only did this mean that I was stranded for that long (for extra context, there were no pavements for the hour-and-a-half walk back to Witney), but in two hours it would be dark. The whole thought of waiting at a bus stop alone in the dark countryside sent a shiver down my spine. I thought logically, though, and the next course of action was to ring every local taxi company. Which I did, but none of them had any taxis available for at least two hours. I had even less luck with Uber, which I tried twice and with no luck. Full-on panic mode began. I worked my way through a series of unhelpful responses, including indignance, rage and – at one particularly low point – wailing over the phone to my poor boyfriend, who was hours away in Kent and in the middle of a work meeting and entirely unable to assist. Fortunately, a second round of calls to taxi companies saved the day. I am still not sure if it was a cancellation or the sound of my unbridled hysteria that did the trick…
Eventually, I made it to Witney and got on a bus back to Oxford city centre. What. A. Day! Funnily enough, I would still recommend a trip to Clarkson’s pub. But, please make sure to check the bus times!