My English Family

I arrived in Oxford hoping for the best. I had met a girl a month and a half earlier in Vietnam, and moments before my last post, I sent her an email telling her that I would be at the bus station in 4 hours. When I got off the bus, nobody was there. I had no money on me, so I waited there for close to twenty minutes, contemplating whether I ought to ask to use someone's cell phone to call my friend, who's number I had written in bright red marker on the inside cover of my waterproof travel journal. Just then I looked up and saw her walking toward me, and it was as if a weight the size of my backpack had been lifted off of my shoulders.

We hugged, and shook our heads in amazement; a drunken idea had manifested, and 45 days later here I was in Oxford. We walked into a local pub and had half-a-pint that was quite nice, and has a pear aftertaste. I told her of everything that had happened since Vietnam, and we caught up for nearly an hour when she rang her mom. She told her I would be staying the night and to "Throw another Jacket in the Oven" which is just English slang for a baked potato.

We left the pub and headed to her house located in the village of Bleubury. Naturally I walked to the right side of the car to get in, when she asked me it I had planned on driving...that's right, it's all backwards here. The drive took us twice as long because many of the roads had been flooded from the rivers that had overflown their banks. We walked inside, and I was more than excited to meet my first English "mum." She was quite friendly as she fixed us each plate of jackets and beans, and she, like every English person I've mentioned it to, could not believe why anyone would sell themselves on eBay.

After dinner Kirsty told me I should look up the train schedule so I could get to Leicester (pronounced Lester)in the morning, I guess I'll just be staying one night then. I figured it all out, and did some online banking which reminded me of the times I'd be losing in Monopoly and couldn't wait to land in jail so I didn't have to keep landing on hotels.

I was long overdue for a shower, so I cleaned up and went to sleep in her 12 year old sister's room who happened to be at a sleepover for the night. I couldn't fall asleep because I kept wondering whether or not my cousin would receive the email I'd just sent him, telling him that I would be arriving in just about 12 hours. I laid there for an hour or so watching the minutes tick by on one of those clocks that shines the time up onto the ceiling in big red numbers before I finally fell asleep.

In what felt like 15 minutes I was woken up by Kirsty telling me we had to leave in 15 minutes so she could drop me off at the Ditcok train station before work. I fell back asleep and woke up 13 minutes later, threw some clothes on stuffed my bag and ran out the door. We said our goodbyes, made promises to visit soon, and she was off. I bought my ticket to Oxford, and my credit card worked; I could breathe again. The trains were stopped because of the flood so we had to take a bus which also was delayed and took an hour and a half. I made it to Oxford and went to buy my ticket to Leicester. I told the lady behind the counter that if my credit card worked it would be a miracle...it was a miracle. This meant that the money transfer Tyler made had worked, I was rich again!

I went next door, ordered a sandwich, croissant, and a cup of tea and handed them my card. "We don't take cards, there's a cash-point next door." No worries, be right back.

Insufficient Funds
Insufficient Funds
Insufficient Funds

"I'm sorry, but I cannot pay for this food" and I walked out of the cafe quite embarrassed.

I had stashed a granola bar in my jacket a week ago, and snacked on that while I waited for my bus. The bus ride was painless, and we were in Leicester in just over 3 hours. Ok, time to find my cousin (whom I haven't seen in 7 years, and god forbid he send his wife to get me as I've never met her) I look all over the train station...nothing.

I have exactly enough money for a phone call, which is 40 pence...it rings, then I get a voicemail, now I have nothing. I dig through my backpack and find 8 euro in coins, I can't believe I hadn't spent those, but they may save my ass because the 45 minute bus ride to the village of Broughton Astley costs 2.10 Pounds.

I walk around in the rain to 4 different banks trying to change money;
"Only if you bank with us sir" do I look like I bank with first bank of Scotland?
"Sorry, we only change bills" some of these coins are 2Euro coins, what's that about?
"This isn't a bank at all, this is a bookie joint (to myself)"

I'm told there is a travel agency in The Shires, I think they're talking about Lord of the Rings...rather, it's a shopping mall. I find the travel agency, and walk out of there with 4.20 pounds. That's 2 bus tickets!!!

Back to the bus station, hop on the number 13...I'm going to make it after all. I hand the bus driver a post-it with an address on it and ask him to tell me when to get off. 20 minutes later I'm standing on the corner of Broughton Street next to Ye Olde Bull Pub. I like the idea of that, at least I could wash dishes for food(beer)if need be. I walk down Broughton Street looking for Astley House, heaven forbid they use street numbers. 10 houses down the lane I read "Astley House" on one of the brick walls. Maybe this is it? Then I see a Dodge truck...this has to be it, only an American would have a Dodge in England.

I knock at the door, no answer...I peer in the window and see baby toys! I MADE IT, it's just nobody was home. I pull out an old train ticket from my bag and a red pen,

"MIKE, I'm at the pub down the street." -Josh

I walk in the pub, "What ya got in that rucksack, you're whole life?" some tough lookin' guy says to me. "Pretty much" I respond, "Any of you know the guitar teacher down the road?"

Nobody knows the guitar teacher down the road. I ask them if I can "Hang Out" for a bit, see if my cousin turns up. The bartender and a regular named George split the cost of a pint for me, and invite me to sit down and tell them why the hell I'm in Broughton Astley.

I tell them about my trip, but realize these guys only want to hear the parts of my story that I'll never tell my kids...so I entertained them for a while and looked out the window at a gentleman approaching, I turned to the bartender, "I think that's my cousin walking in..."


-Josh