Aylesbury, England

[Sundae]

Went to Oxford with Mum on Friday.
Her suggestion - I think she likes to get out of the house as much as she likes me to be out of the house.
Dad was invited but he had too much to do.

Got the 280, same as we did to Thame. It's a lovely bus ride.
Got pole position again - front seats at the top.
Bus left late because it changed drivers. I've always noticed this - the drivers don't get on until the ETD and then spend time faffing about as well as the time it takes for the passengers to get on. We left at 11.15 instead of 11.00 and then the man drove like an old granny. Meh. Like to see how supermarkets or schools coped if the staff didn't start prep until they were paid to.

As we approached Oxford, Mum wanted to get off before Cornmarket. No point sez I, we're off up the Woodstock Road. We'll get off at the bus station. She's the one with the gammy knee after all.
She didn't like this. Tuts and mutters and then outright comments like "Well! I hope you know where we are because to me we're heading out of Oxford now!"

Must admit, a bit confussed about the route we were taking, but I did know where we were, perfectly well. The route obviously went via the railway station now. I mean, I know Oxford, I'm not exactly an innocent abroad there. Then we stopped, and the miserable old giffer came huffing and puffing up the stairs and looked at us and the other two passengers with disgust. "RAILWAY STATION!"

I felt like saying, "Yes dear, I can read." But instead said, "Is this the last stop?"
"Yes. Railway Station."
"You don't go to the bus station then?"
"No. Never has."

No thank you or goodbye from me then.
They certainly used to go to the bus station in the days I went to Oxford every weekend. Mum pointed out this was a long time ago - well, yes. Still made the miserable old git ignorant or a liar though.

I swallowed my pride, apologised to Mum. Told her we were still closer to our destination than if we'd got off earlier and tried to brush off her sulks. It worked, I think. By the time we crossed the road she recognised where we were - I think coming in by road, via a one-way system, she probably did feel like she was miles away. Once she spotted Yo! Sushi and the theatre she realised we were to the West of the centre and going in the right direction.

Things got better from here.

[Sundae]

Mum wanted to go to the Oratory.
Last time she went was in the Winter and some sort of relic was being displayed.
The whole place was lit with lights and candles, all the gilt was shining and there were flowers everywhere.

FFWD to August 2012 and an ordinary day. No special flowers, a few candles lit for prayer and no lights on as it was a fine day.
She knelt to pray but was disappointed. I did feel for her. Still, I had a good chat with the Caretaker (Olympids and Paralympics) and he gave me carte blanche re photos. The only person praying was Mum, so being careful of her mood I still only took a few.

Outside.
From the entrance.

[Sundae]

I thought it beautiful anyway, but I suppose when something doesn't quite live up to your memory, it's disappoint.

Fresco. Which hasn't been updated by a mad old biddy.
Side Chapel.

[Sundae]

Then off to Browns, which is more or less next door.

NOW.
I have been to Browns more than once. In more than one location and more than once in Oxford.
I came out happy, but it was not a completely happy experience. Little, little things. But when you pay what we did for bar snacks (and cocktails ) I think you should feel wonderful. Harvey Nicholls was great. Browns is not Harvey Nicholls and I felt... out of place. Uncomfortable. Unwelcome, to an extent. Hmmmmm.

When I've been before, I've been dining. Had a reserved table. Waited in the entrance for a server and been seated. This time we wanted the bar snacks well-advertised on the website and were unsure whether to wait or ask at the bar. We walked in hesitantly only to hear the people coming in after us say to the approaching server, "Yes, table for three." Rude gits.

The chap behind the bar noticed and sprang out and offered to seat us. Walked us into a section of the restaurant and started to hand us the menus. I said, "We were hoping to see the bar menu? The finger food?" Slight pause. I am obviously now a time waster. "Of course!" he recovers and takes us into the central area, telling me that there is no menu, the food available is on the blackboard. Leaves us to seat ourselves. I suppose for bar snacks you are supposed to walk straight in to do this, but how were we to know? I hate the staff superiority that comes from having to repeat the same thing over and over to customers. It means it's not clear in the first place.

Anyway, I accosted him a few minutes later to ask if we could order flatbread from the main menu as well as bar snacks. It even suggests it on the website. He acted slightly confused, as if I'd asked for kippers and jam. Yes, yes I could of course. He even deigned to get me one of the menus that had been whipped away from us earlier.

Oh, forgot to say that apparently the table sat next to where we were originally going to sit were all staring at me as if I had two heads. Mum was kind enough to tell me so after we sat down. She said to them, "Had a good look did you?" Now that doesn't sound like Mum, so I'm not sure. But it did make me feel very out of place, especially given the other little issues. I was too fat, too brash, dressed in too much colour and man-made fabric. Amongst those muted, linen, cotton and wool dressed people in their layered clothes despite the warmth of the day I wasn't a butterfly, I was an aphid.

So, we chose our cocktails and food.
And waited.
Not long, but our server hadn't indicated to us whether we ordered at the bar or were waited on, so for me it was a twitchy time. I hate not knowing the rules.

By this point I was feeling like that section in Sons and Lovers in the teashop, which they always used to use for English Comprehension, where the protagonist and his mother try to have a treat they can't really afford and are immediately spotted as such by the waitress.

I lied earlier, on reflection.
This is where things got better.

[Sundae]

The server who in the end was very nice, and friendly, and seemed to run the bar as well as the bar area, came to take our order. No pen, paper, electronic pad. Just memory. Colour us impressed.

I had a Kajuma to drink.
Disaronno Amaretto, Chambord, blueberry, pomegranate, lime and a touch of Shiraz
Oh it was good. I could have gulped at it like a drowning woman - tangy and fruity and Autumnal.

Mum has a taste for Champagne cocktails.
She had a Browns Bellini
For those whose bubbly must be French, Mercier Brut NV and white peach
(did I tell you I've had a Bellini in the place they were created - Harry's Bar in Venice?)

[glatt]

Looks yummy!

[Sundae]

Mum seemed to have relaxed completely.
She went into Browns in Cardiff for afternoon tea, so I don't think she felt snubbed at all. It's not all that. She was probably just a trifle irritated and got over it. So I did too.

We chose three items from the bar snacks menu (like tapas, but available in multiples of 3). Smoked salmon blinis, salt & pepper squid and honey & mustard chicken.

It arrived within 10 minutes, but our server advised us that the prosciutto, chorizo and pepper flatbread would be a little longer. We weren't fussed - we had enough to be getting on with!

Wow! It came on a hot tray, perfect for dipping into with fingers. The chicken was SO moist. And not like cheap chicken which has been pumped full of water. Just a taste explosion, quite extraordinary. The blinis were topped with such succulent salmon. Soft and velvety. The squid was good and not rubbery, well seasoned but it simply stood no chance of praise against the other two. Not a crumb left of course.

[Sundae]

The flatbread.
Ten minutes after our bar snacks had arrived.
We had finished them.
Now the order it was served in was not an issue. But it should have all arrived together, so it was them taking their eye off the ball. Naughty.

Anyway, it was good. So good that even though I thought I was full by that point I managed some more food. So good that I have bought the ingredients to make one for Mum and I tomorrow night. I'll report back.

Apols from the server, took another cocktail order from us.
Me with my Havana Breeze.

[Sundae]

A Havana Breeze is Havana 3yr Rum blended with St Germain Elderflower liqueur, melon, sugar & lime. Served with lots and lots of ice. And I kept trying to drink it too quickly and kept getting stabbing ice-cream headaches. This I do not blame on anyone but myself!

Sticking with champagne, Mum had a Browns Champagne Cocktail
Our twist on the classic with Grand Marnier and an Angostura infused sugar cube

Now, final gripe. When the bill was presented it turns out that any coctails ordered from the Browns Signature Cocktail Range were £4.50. All the signage suggested this was a deal only available before 16.00 Sunday-Thursday (we went on Friday). Now both of my cocktails, by coincidence were from that menu. But Mum's weren't. Although she wanted a treat, I think had she realised she could save nearly £4 per drink she might just have changed her mind about champagne.

I didn't express ANY of these gripes to Mum.
I wanted her to have a good time - specially as she was paying! - so I am venting here a little bit.
I just feel sad when the details are neglected and you still get a £42 bill (service not included) at the end of it.

[Sundae]

We then wandered around the streets and the covered market.
One mildly amusing thing was that I saw a shop with lots of little trinkets and sparkly things and dived in. Mum stayed at the window.
I saw some rings that I thought she would might like, and as I'd been struggling to find her a birthday present I had a eureka moment and beckoned her in.

Just passing was a tall bearded chap in a red jumper.
When Mum came in the shop I was cracking up because he'd seen the movement and looked in.
I'd like to tell you he had a complete sit-com "who, me?" moment, but he didn't. Just looked puzzled and carried on walking.
It still tickled my funny bone though.
And yes, Mum loved the rings and I bought her one. Not her usual style, but we were there at the counter and she would have said if she didn't like.

About half an hour later I'd steered us into Paperchase (lovely card shop chain that I miss from Leicester and London).
I queue up to pay and who is the person at the till in front of me?
Tall bearded chap in a red jumper.

Thank goodness he wasn't also getting the Oxford to Aylesbury bus.
I might have had the police waiting for me at the bus station.

[limey]

It looks like you had a lovely time, though, gripes'n'all!

[Trilby]

"I was not a butterfly, I was an aphid,"

Stuff like that goes down in my notebook (never fear, I credit the person who wrote/said it) but you are wonderful my dear, and if you are an aphid, I am glad because I am an aphid, too.

[Sundae]

Originally Posted by DanaC

Yeah, duck eggs are a bit too eggy for my taste too.

Back to school and walking past a farmhouse that sells free range duck eggs. Honesty system (and cheaper than Waitrose)
Oddly, your complaint against them makes me curious enough to think about buying half a dozen. I used to buy them from Leicester market because they were sold individually and I could never get through 6 eggs before they went off. I honestly don't have a fixed memory of their taste. I want some more egginess in my life.

Originally Posted by Brianna

if you are an aphid, I am glad because I am an aphid, too.

Happiness.

[Sundae]

Friars Square, Aylesbury circa 1986.
I may be off on the date there, but it's how I remember it from that period in my life.

The sunken area is the market. Underneath that and completely covered is the underground market. Not as exciting as it sounds, but it always felt a little risky to me as a child.

When Nanny and Grandad came down from London we would sometimes eat in the Wimpy. It was so exciting. Instead of taking the escalator down to the underground market as we did every other time, we opened the Wimpy branded door and were hit by a heady wave of burger smell, climbed up the stairs and emerged into the bright world of plastic chairs and fake tomatoes. All the staff were Asian, with varying degrees of English. I honestly assumed that Wimpy, although faux-American, was some sort of Indian business. I mean the only curry I'd seen in those days came from a box by Vesta. By the time I was old enough to go to a Wimpy elsewhere I understood the concept of minimum wage and had had real Indian take-away.

But back then, Coke Floats, Brown Derbys and Beefburgers (served on china plates with knives and forks) were foreign in many ways, and an outstanding treat however you looked at it.

Oh, if I haven't already mentioned it (surely I have?) a few external scenes in A Clockwork Orange were filmed in the concrete modernity of Friars Square. And yes, when I picture it, it always looks like this - wet and grey with the buildings and sky in shades of clotted porridge.

[xoxoxoBruce]

clotted porridge

That conjures up images that would keep small children up at night.