Text 4713, 132 rader
Skriven 2006-08-21 18:55:00 av MICHAEL LOO (1:123/140)
Ärende: trip 2, 115
===================
Woke to essentially the same tasty but not particularly
healthy breakfast (you can get healthier stuff if you wish,
including a whole array of breads, cereals, and other awful
things and fruit), and then it was to Oxford, where we found
our route (I had wanted to approach the city from the south
as I'd heard it was easier) from the north blocked by
construction, congestion, and a warren of one-way and
pedestrian streets. Eventually we found our destination and
my father's college buddy Rayson and his son Christopher.

The MacDonald Eastgate Hotel was our second choice, as the
Old Bank was full up except for a couple of very posh
suites that we couldn't afford. Turns out that my father
had stayed here a few times over the years and had found
it acceptable (whew) but hadn't recognized the name with
the relatively new MacDonald prefix. The advantage of these
two places is that they are just steps from my father's
alma mater, Magdalen College.

Meals: two sandwich shops, one an eat-in and one a takeout,
suggested by Christopher probably from his college days; at
the one I had some kind of unmemorable pseudo-Asian thing
and at the other a sandwich of pastrami round with a nice
layer of butter (good combination if not exactly classic,
the butter standing in for the tasty fat of a proper
brisket). Our sit-down meal was kind of peculiar - Rayson
had remembered a Chinese restaurant near the train station,
and when the cabbie pulled up, it was no longer there; but
a couple doors down was a buffet, EAMAYL (this stands for
Eat As Much As You Like). The food was reminiscent of what
you get at hawker stalls in south Asian cities, so Rayson
and I at least were at home. The food was mostly mediocre,
but they had huge trays of duck, of which I had my fill.

As we had been caught in the maze of one-way and closed
streets, we missed one of our aims, a Sunday service at
Christ Church but proceeded directly to the Eastgate. The
other main goal was an audience with the President of
Magdalen, which went very nicely, one of the President's
jobs being to be gracious to old alumni (Rayson and my
father, not me nor Carol); during which my father pledged
a large portion of my patrimony to the College. A little
tour of the College followed, ending at the lovely chapel.

Next day, we proceeded according plan to near Brighton so
my father and Rayson could visit a housebound classmate -
actually, we went straight to our billet, the Hickstead
Hotel, a faceless Utell hotel in Bolney, and they took a
cab to see Men Wah while Carol and I relaxed and then
had a totally unmemorable meal (she had some kind of
stuffed salmon trout, I had some kind of lamb with a
glass of cheap rather acrid red wine - the only thing I
remember of the meal, remember I'm in fairly bad shape
by this time, is the burn of the liquid against the back
of my throat).

Off to Heathrow after a not very good breakfast; by this
time I was nearly delirious and remember little of the
drive, the wheelchair trip through emigration and security
and a short, semi-comatose trip to the Red Carpet Club and
then the plane.

0802 UA 925 LHR IAD 1620 1927 777 8DEF

We'd had 8EFJ, but the very kind desk agents (and a very
kind passenger, who'd been operationally upgraded anyway,
the original 8D having apparently been sent to the front
cabin) got us the center block together. I recall a pleasant
flight and another solicitous and caring crew.

Smoked salmon and goat cheese with sun-blushed tomatoes,
chunky tomato compote - I found the salmon and tomatoes a
bit on the salty side but otherwise palatable; didn't try
the cheese. The tomato compote's seasonings didn't seem to
go with the salmon, so I mostly ignored it.

Fresh seasonal greens, Classic Caesar or Asian sesame
dressing.

Pan-seared filet mignon with roasted garlic demi-glace,
Cheddar cheese mashed potatoes and somerset-style
roasted vegetables - the steak was overdone again, but at
least warm and not hot in the middle, with a trace of pink.
The garlic was noticeable, the potatoes okay, the veggies
the usual strange assortment of surplus root vegetables
with maybe a slice or two of summer squash.

Carol reports that they forgot her steak, and by the time
they found it for her, it was the texture and had the aroma
of a hockey puck, which didn't endear United to her, and
she doesn't like United anyhow.

No dessert again for me, as I was tired.

I woke for the snack:

Prior to arrival
Your selected entree will be served with assorted breads,
clotted cream and fruit preserves

Cheese plate with fresh seasonal fruit, Wensleydale with
cranberries, Red Leicester - the cheese was ok if bland;
the fruit were ok as well, not so good as previous fruit
plates on the trip.

We got back on time, but I have little recollection of
the landing or immigration. The original plan was for
me to spend a few nights with Carol and then head back
up to Boston, but Carol, increasingly uneasy at my
deteriorating condition, made me change my plans to get
back to Boston early so I could have my head examined.
My brother, darn him, was supposed to pick us up, but he
had forgotten some work appointment or other, and we had
to take a taxi back. Whereupon Carol drove home and I spent
the night at my father's.

My brother, bless him, took me back to Dulles on his way
to work; I got there unconscionably early as a result
and had time for a smoked meat sandwich (a bit dry and
pretty mediocre, but I do dearly love Montreal smoked
meat) and an Old Dominion Amber (pretty good) at Moe's,
which is right near where the buggies drop you off.

Toddled to the Red Carpet Club, where I relaxed for a
while and then summoned a wheelchair to take me the
to the (actually fairly close by) gate. It is cool
getting wheeled to the plane, but I don't recommend
it nonetheless, as the inconvenience factor is high.

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