and to the countryside…
* * *
Sometimes the city just doesn’t cut it for you. I told my parents, as I packed my suitcases and
boxes for London, “I just can’t do the suburban life, it’s not for me.” True. Bold. And
sometimes living in a “quieter” part of the city helps, but still I peer out of my bedroom window
and see the masses of tourists navigating their digital maps to find Tate Britain or
I’m in the midst of folding my clothes (that I have to air dry for days) and hear the flock
of school children teasing each other and playing tag with mothers in a frenzy.
And so this particular Wednesday, I reached a point that an escape was necessary. A
quick one. We took the train from Marylebone and passed through same amount of sheep as you would
people right outside the Oxford Circus station. And then upon entering Bicester North, the
homes with smoking chimneys and just two platforms, you think that this was a familiar place…
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Ever walk into a place and it’s as if you’ve stepped inside a time machine? Goosebumps on
my arms because I felt as if I was back at my old stomping ground. The dim light, the warmth
from the ovens, the subtle scent of a roast and the murmurs of families.
Am I back in St. Andrews?
What makes meals special in the restaurants of villages is the nuance of prepping it.
It’s not a science, but a norm. The Farmshop is a rustic, beautifully inviting restaurant just
a stone-throw away from London’s beating heart. Nestled in Bicester Village, Oxfordshire, the
menu celebrates British cuisine and classic farmhouse fare.
The barn doors invited her in, goosebumps on her arms. The walls of cobblestone met
the exposed beams whilst capturing the light trickling in dancing through the sheer white curtains. She sighed. Finally, an escape from the city.
* * *