Escapism

Everybody needs a little escapism from the more unpleasant, or even simply banal, elements of their life from time to time. Normally, when I want to escape into an alternative reality, I do one of the following:
1. Bake. Particularly recipes with an unnecessary number of steps. I'm not one for this all-in-one malarkey.
2. Read Country Living. Am I worried that I share the interests of a middle aged farmer's wife? Perhaps. Do I dream of living in a grade II listed farm house with a dog called Potato, a roaring fire and a local supply of apples nevertheless? Yes.
3. Dance. Zumba, ballet, aerobics - whatever. Can't.get.enough of those endorphins.

However, when at university (where perhaps the drawbacks of reality hit me harder than elsewhere) I have no kitchen, would be mortified to be seen with CL in my shopping basket in the social hub that is the local Sainsburys and know of no local dance classes.

So, today, I got up around 6 and hopped on my bike and with a some hastily scribbled down directions set off on a long ride. Fool. What was I thinking? I began to resent myself when wondering what on earth I had meant by 'G Lane' or 'take a kind of small right.' I positively loathed my former self when I accidentally ended up on a dual carriage way. Luckily, after a hasty recourse to the side of the road, I escaped with my life and made it back home.

Despite the dramatics of the ride and the intellectual rigour needed to decode my sparse notes, I forgot my normal world for a couple of hours, enjoying the view from Boar's Hill over the cityscape of Oxford and generally taking overly romantic pictures.

Now, you have the almost unutterable pleasure of two photos!

I was torn between my love of old maps (Boar's Hill in 1919) ....

and the sheer narcissistic pleasure of my own photo (a casual field in 2011)