It Only Hurts When They Laugh

Nothing happened today. And when I say nothing, I mean that we tried to do something and couldn't. What we want to do is buy train tickets to Angers, France. That's on the other side of this little creek, so we have to take a train rather than walk (like we would do to go to Abingdon to not find a shop).

Now, in theory you can take the chunnel train to Paris, hop off, fling yourself gracefully aboard a Metro train full of elegant Parisians, ride across the City of Light, stroll aboard another high-speed train at the South Station (aka Montparnasse), and emerge into the bright light of Anjou. Home of the Angevin dynasty, burial place of Eleanor of Aquitaine, birthplace of the battered women's shelter (Fontrevault Abbey).

But no. The web version of British Rail/EuroStar/EurRail stole 3 hours of Charles's life, leaving him all but foaming at the mouth. Instead of a trip to Angers he got a trip to angry. Walking through central Oxford, we noticed a travel agency and thought perhaps they could help us.

They were charming fellows, and I would take them for a beer anytime. First, they suggested the web. I told them that we'd tried the web and barely resisted throwing the computer out the window. Laughter. Then they said they don't handle rail travel, but we could call BritRail. We've tried that already, so I asked whether we might just walk down to the station and talk to someone. Hilarity ensued. For the record, we were all laughing. It's just that Charles and I were laughing out of sheer desperation, while the travel guys were laughing because the idea of BritRail employees being helpful is apparently High-Larious. I liked those guys.

They said I should call. I'm going to call tomorrow. If it works out, ok. If not, Charles is entirely willing to simply remain in England, which we like just fine. Here, there's hot tea and shortbread and beer with lunch and everyone says, "Sorry!" at the drop of a hat. And the bookstores can't be beat.

In other news, we passed a house today with a nice sign on the front door:
"Attention! Chien Bizarre"