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It's a fine line between living for the moment and being a sociopath.

Patricia B McConnell: For The Love Of A Dog.

Pema Chodron: The Places That Scare You

Daniel Wallace: Mr Sebastian & the Negro Magician

All paths lead to the same goal: to convey to others what we are. --Pablo Neruda

Monday, July 09, 2007

We are the new village people

We're still figuring out where everything goes, but it's feeling like a house, rather than a storage container with a kitchen.

We're living in a village in Oxfordshire that is renowned for, well, a few things that will have to wait for future posts (and, therefore, home broadband). But when I say "village in Oxfordshire", think of an English country village and you've pretty well got it nailed.

How you know it's our place.

That's one of the things that's struck both Flame-Haired Angel and me: every house has a name. You could easily address a letter to our house name, then put the postcode, and it would get to us. The street address is incidental.

And, yes, it's really the old village dairy.

Our funny, little narrow entranceway. For those of you familiar with our colossal opium bed -- the only thing that didn't go in and out through the window in Paris -- it came in through the back.

One of the few rooms that wasn't still piled with boxes when I took these.

The back garden. The wind sighs "quaint" as it blows through the blossoms.

The rather uninspiringly functional front view. You'd never guess this place has been around for a few hundred years.

The neighbors across the street. That one looks a little more the part. It's an oak-framed house from the 18th century. FHA loves the windows. The person who built this, originally, had to have been pretty well-off to install all that hand-blown glass.

Putting our little marble sign to shame, this is the other across-the-street neighbour: the local pub.

It's one of those fantastic old pubs that doesn't have poker machines or a big screen TV. It's got a great little bar the locals loiter in up the front, a dining room out the back, and tables in the garden. I promise, it's a complete coincidence that we've moved in directly across the street from a Good Pub Guide favourite.

The bustling traffic looking down the street toward the Thames river, which is just beyond the tree line.

And the frenetic intersection up the street the other way.

The local Tardis.

The post office on the corner (also the local shop and gossip font), run by two golden retrievers and a spaniel.

I should mention that the sky in these photos is deceptive. Whilst I haven't pasted it in using Photoshop, the blue has been a rarity in our scant 10 days. Indeed, we've seen it twice. No wonder the English turned Australia into a penal colony. What with all that sun, they must have considered it a fiery hell.


Comments on "We are the new village people"


Anonymous shakespeareuk said ... (7:59 PM) : 

Now we just need you joining the cricket team (and FHA making the cricket tea), not to mention FHA getting involved in the Women's Institute....


Blogger Serendipity said ... (5:27 PM) : 

hi. i'm a friend of Andrew's. he told me to check out your blog awhile ago to read what you wrote about him. and then i got hooked to reading all of it. i hope that's ok. i've really been enjoying it. i've always wanted to go to Paris, but given the funds, i am able to live vicariously through your experiences. thanks for being so detailed in what you see and do. i just have one question. where the heck are you now and why are you there now?


Anonymous Anonymous said ... (7:03 PM) : 

Quite the change from the Paris, but it looks lovely. We expect you'll soon be a expert on all things beer.

Kudos on the Dr. Who reference.


Anonymous Nadia said ... (3:54 AM) : 

So glad the tardis made it from Paris to Oxfordshire and with the Le Crouset cooking pots too. Good luck Houston and Geri in your new home. Quite a change of pace but hopefully another happy life experience for you too. Perhaps I can get Scottie to change his mind on never visiting the UK again!
Nadia xx


Anonymous Siona said ... (9:59 AM) : 

Still missing you guys.... Siona


Blogger Houston said ... (7:11 PM) : 

Shakespeare: I've been hit in the head with a cricket ball enough times (once) to be convinced that it's the intellectual aspects of the game that are most compelling.

Serendipity: Lovely to have you.

Anon: Cider, darling. Not beer. Never beer. I went 10 years in Oz without becoming a convert. Ain't starting now. I've already decided , however, that my English country hobby is going to be cider-making.

Nadia: Welcome always!

Siona: T'ain't Ireland, but 'tis green. Eurostar, dammit. Eurostar. I know a guy you can ride with. (Or on. Your choice.)


Anonymous Anonymous said ... (5:07 AM) : 

Houston and Geri, the place looks so deliciously British!!! (Yes, Imagine that).
There were so many quaint booths, though, I was beginning to wonder that portapotties in England ought to look like them!! it would be so much more fun, don't ya think?! don't ask me why this came up, I'm not telling. Bless your new home.



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