And not just any car...

6:14 At precisely the arranged time, the Peug and I deploy ourselves to Oxford railway station's short term car park. Roxanne "The Mountain Parade" "The World is Not Flat!" "Theearlyyears" "Brimstone Moth" Brennan is already waiting. Our other main guest, however, despite requesting an incredibly specific time, is nowhere in sight...
6:17 Sam "Sam Taplin" Taplin turns out to have been standing in a different part of the station, accompanied by Ed "No detectable web presence but check out this video" Pope, who we had hardly dared hope would join us.
6:20 We pile into the Peug. Our mission: travel to the Oxfordshire border town of Goring so that Sam can play the world famous Goring Unplugged night in the village hall. Sam had previously been intent on going alone on the train but we were like NOOOO
6:37 A34 conversations about eg. a rather pleasing line of poplar trees almost as french as the Peug itself.
6:42 Potential hilarity as accidental wrong exit takes us seamlessly back onto the exact same road; road atlas passed hurriedly around the back seat; consensus that satnav can go fuck itself.
6:50-7:10 Unbelievably pastoral country drive - weather perfect - during which the first of many animals attempts to end it all on my front bumper (see below).
7:12 Pulling into Goring, via the adjacent village of Streatley. Both are "-on-thames"; that mighty river, noticeably wider than up at Oxford, divides them as indeed it divides the counties of W. Berks. and Oxon. Presumably there is some kind of endearing bitter rivalry betweeen them that would make a smashing film.
7:14 I repeatedly trouser parking, incl. trying to pull into a driveway that doesn't exist. Ed, who has never driven ("I don't know the rules") indicates the absolutely enormous and perfectly-situated parking space which I have repeatedly missed.
7:16 We stroll across the bridge to Streatley, admiring the lock. Picturesqueness abounds, and we collapse upon the necessity of a riverside drink.
7:21 The only place for such a drink is a weird family hotel licensed for civil marriages. In a bizarre series of corridors and events ("We're in the shining" - Roxy), we emerge blinking into one of those 70s "new" pubs with the green carpet and the walls - you know the kind I mean. It's fawlty towers, basically.
7:25 Whilst the others deal with a barman who is actually called Manuel, I sit by the river and thumb through my moleskine, which I've recently learned is pronounced "Mol Eh Skinny"
7:35 At the outdoor table, Ed Pope fills us with trivia about the pubs near our house (1. The Duke of Monmouth is where his parents had their honeymoon; 2. The Crooked pot was the first pub in Berkshire).
7:40 Sam departs for a soundcheck (on an unamplified piano?!). We sit another moment and then stroll back across the bridge in the manner of Reservoir Dogs.
7:45 Joyously reunited with Sam on the other side of the bridge, we cruise Goring in search of foodstuffs. The idea is tabled by one of us (okay, it was me), that we should put on balaclavas and run around spraypainting umlauts on every 'o' on every sign in the village.
7:50 The search for food having gone badly (yet the whole town comprehensively explored in 5 minutes), Roxy's uncanny instincts lead us down an alley we would never have noticed into one of those 70s/80s archades which contains a chinese called (get ready for this) 'Chef King'. We immediately order, pop to the offy, return, collect food, collect forks, and head on out.
8:15 Sitting in the Peug, noshing down the Chinese, listening to Django Reinhardt. Life is good.
8:30 We venture into the village hall (sign outside: "Goring Unplugged: HEAR tonight") and struggle to find seats amongst the crowded tables. The hall is an old school one (that's "old school", not "old, school") with seating on the stage and a new stage set up for artists down on the floor... MUCH LIKE HULLAVINGTON (see the next post on this blog, which will be about events that haven't happened yet. Ah, the meta digital space).
8:35 Sam, Ed and I combine our powers to make the best group urinal line ever. MALE BONDING.
8:50 Sam and I crack some funnies together in the interval and start absolutely shitting it. It's pointless for me to try and recapture the giggles now (it all started with me saying "you're going to hit this crowd like a curry") but we are literally physically incapable for about ten minutes.
9:10 The second half begins and Sam and I are immediately incapable again. We go into the toilets together to iron out the laughs, at which point Sam says "okay, we can't sit together until I've been on stage".
9:45 I hold my breath as Sam takes to the stage.
9:46-10:01 Sam totally nukes Goring and is asked back for an encore.
10:30 After quite enjoying the final act, Sam gives out some CDs and we diminish and go into the, uh, north.
10:31-50 A misguided attempt to explain to the others what we were laughing about leads Sam and I to start cacking it again, in what is the most resumable laugh I have ever experienced. There are probably a total of about six seconds here where I'm driving with my eyes shut; at least one eye is closed due to uncontrollable mirth. Ed Pope attempts to defuse laughter by saying loads of the most boring things he can imagine; this makes us laugh more. Beautiful solitary night-drive single track country road factos do not past unnoticed despite all of this. Sam says "I'm really pissed" about once every four minutes.
10:51-11:03 On at A34 again, we have a powerful talk about the nature of songwriting. Is there such a thing as "good"? How often should you repeat a song live? What's the best way of writing? OH, SO DEEP.
11:05 Tea at the Abingdon Road house. Ed Pope reunited with his marrow briefly. Earlgreylavendar and leftover chinese eaten down, with bagels for Ed and Sam. Sam overheard speaking french for the first time (by me, that is. He didn't just suddenly break into fluency to his own surprise).
11:20 I lift the two guests back to the station. There were better places to drop them off, but we all decide that we're too into the circular thingy. "This is where I came in", chuckles Ed, dismounting from the car. I slow down long enough to shout "THEY CALL ME 'BITCH'" from the other side of the car park to their retreating forms.

Animals which ran in front of the Peug, nearly killing themselves because of their presumable disbelief that any car could be so cool:

• Fox
• Cat
• Rabbits (3)
• Deer (young; supple)