I know I’ve written about this in a few of my blogs, but I am constantly fascinated with the laid-back pub scene that the U.K. has. It is not socially frowned upon to go to pubs here in the U.K. – all the way around: Ireland, Scotland, Wales, Woodstock, Stratford Upon Avon, and finally, my favorite place by default: Oxford. I can’t get over how kind people are here; perhaps I’m simply naïve in my anonymity of being a foreigner, but I just get the sense that I am accepted, regardless of my sex, nationality, bright false red hair, and peculiarities.
I have established myself at regular places where I find my moments to “download” when I need to get away from the people altogether. Sometimes I get to the point where I’ve had enough of what I know and of people’s routines and have to just get away. I think I shall miss this experience the most – moments of “my” pubs where people know who I am, talk to me as any other person, and where I can simply be the many faces of me”: scholar, academician, lone traveler, introspective, introverted, friendly, reserved, and whatever other spirit that moves me.
One place I’ve found refuge in of late is the Corridor Pub http://www.thecorridoroxford.co.uk/ on Cowley Road. Oftentimes, during the first part of any given day, after I get out of school, or during the weekend, I come here and do my schoolwork over coffee. I usually go through two coffees before I’m ready to switch over to something of a reward: a more relaxing scotch on the rocks (or two or thereabouts) before I pack it in. No one gives me any nasty looks or grief for doing so. Students also get certain discounts (which I haven’t redeemed thus far because of my choice of drink). I feel like Colin Dexter’s “Inspector Morse” as I nurse my drinks and contemplate simple and complex matters of little relevance.
The other day was May Day. On May Day in the U.K., students (namely) and otherwise sober people celebrate the coming of summer. People start celebrating before or at sun-up at the bars and pubs and usually get quite inebriated. Some places actually serve up breakfast with drinks. Here at Corridors, this practice of feeding students wasn’t successful because alcohol was the primary objective and a lot of food went to waste.
Many of my classmates pulled all-nighters for May Day but I was (and still am to a degree) sick with a bad cold. I knew I wouldn’t be a direct eye-witness to the mayhem of May Day. I don’t think I would have participated anyway. I’ve been there and done all that and being severely drunk is highly overrated. Being violently sick from alcohol poisoning (which is what “really drunk” is) is the farthest thing from fun that I know from personal experience.
Saturday was an experimental day. It was quite an expensive experiment at two pounds per shot, but I did get free pastries to tide me over. I wanted to see how long and slowly I could drink without becoming inebriated. I’ve lost count of how many scotches on the rocks I’ve taken in because I’ve been here for hours, and because I drink slowly to savor the drink and enjoy the relaxing time, ambiance, and people I meet along the way that accompanies the drink. Long gone are the days of shots and forced drunkenness where the price was too high. If in the States, I’d have been ushered out or given not-so-subtle hints that I had overstayed my visit. Further, I would have had to drive home, and if any police officer might have pulled me over after such a long day, I would have been hauled away for driving under the influence. They (the States) really could do a better job with “bars” (or my favorite establishment, “pubs”), but drinking places are still fairly reserved for the male-biased, as I previously alluded to in my other blog.
As a woman – as a single woman – I can say with certainty that I really dislike being hit on by men who have the wrong idea about my presence at drinking establishments. I truly enjoy conversations but many such conversations go south as soon as the guy gets the wrong idea and “makes a move.” I can’t count the times I have encountered the cliché, “So what’s a nice, attractive lady like yourself doing here all alone at a place like this?” Buzz kill. At that point of the evening (usually it doesn’t take long), I fold in my cards and call it a night, even if I don’t want to. Oh well, it’s all cool on some strange level, I suppose…
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