Food and Drink

Well, I went to the White Horse two nights ago, the bar that apparently has existed in the same form since the 16th century (not to be confused with a dive on Telegraph Ave. in Oakland, CA fo the same name...). It was a few steps down from street level, narrow, low-ceilinged, and paneled in dark wood. I wondered if, in its earlier days, it was a ploughman's bar, with day labourers coming in out of the sun to wash donw their lunches with a pint of bitter, or if it was a scholar's bar, with vague dons di[[iong the sleeves of their robes in the puddles of spilled ale as they contemplated the ancients. These days it seems to be a place where people in suits come to unwind after work, or at least that was the crowd there at seven in the evening the thursday before a bank holiday weekend. It was odd to be eating my meal and having my humble half-pint of cider in the middle of so many chatting, socialble groups of people, and I wished I had a friend to enjoy the experience with, but at least the meal was good. It is not easy for me to make new acquaintances at the best of times, and hostelling does not seem to provide the opportunities that it is reputed to in terms of passing friendships--of course, the particular hostel I was staying at in Oxford seemed to be hosting not one but several children's summer camps, and for the whole week most of the residents were around ten years old. Not really the crowd to hit up bars with.

I should be eating far fewer meals alone now that I am back in London, though, since I am going to stay for the rest of my trip with my friend James from Berkeley (It is a great boon to me that I am able to ditch the hostel experience for a while and take advantage of his hospitality for so long!). James has been working at Imperial Colllege for the past couple years and lives in Wimbledon, of tennis fame. Through him I seem to be gaining a more authentic experience of after-hours British socializing--I got back to the city yesterday evening just at the end of the day, and we obsevered the end of the work week by going to a neighboring pub with some of his co-workers and then to late dinner of indian food. The restaurant, which was tasty, was referred to by James and his friends as "The Man's," to distinguish it from "The Man's Wife's," a sister restaurant apparently run by the owner's significant other, and presumably not far away.