Woodstock Mafia

Sorry about the lateness of this blog, but I hope you enjoy it all the same.

On our free afternoon on Wednesday, Becky, Jessie, Alyse, Hayes, Dr. Swicegood, and I decided to go see Blenheim Palace. “That’s where Winston Churchill was born!” as Jessie was prone to repeating throughout the day in her excitement. Blenheim lies on the outskirts of Oxford (so much so that our bus passes are not supposed to be able to get us there but the bus driver didn’t so anything so we didn’t either). After our lecture we went to the city center to find a bus stop that would take us to Woodstock, the section of town that Blenheim is in. After Alyse, the class mom for the trip, found the bus stop, we waited for and got on the bus after it arrived.

As we got on the bus, I noticed that there was a mother in one of the seats holding her little boy, who I guessed to be around eighteen months old, and I heard Jessie remark about how cute he was. After we had ridden the bus for five minutes or so, I was jerked out of my reverie by the child’s laughter. His face was the epitome of happiness as he gazed beyond me at the object of his merriment, and I looked back to see what it was. Hayes was playing peek-a-boo with the little boy by hiding his face in his trench coat and then suddenly pulling out of it again. This went on for a little while when for some strange reason the child turned his face towards me in what seemed to be an invitation to play. I broke out in the biggest smile I could muster, and the little boy rolled with peals of delighted laughter (apparently my smile is funny, haha). Then I gave him a face of surprise, which just amused him all the more, and I could hear Jessie and Hayes amused chuckling behind me at my playing with the child. Suddenly he pulled away and put his face on the other side of his mother’s, and then he came back to the side facing me squealing with joy. I realized with a start of amusement that he was playing peek-a-boo with me, so the next time he put his face on the other side of his mother’s, I went with him with a smile. I thought his laughter would roll on forever, and I continued to play with him until our stop came just so I could hear it. As we got off of the bus, I heard Dr. Swicegood say, “There is no more wonderful sound in this world than a child’s laughter.” I couldn’t agree more.

After we got off of the bus, we began asking the locals about the “super duper secret passageway” which just amused them. After a few repeated tries with no success, I stepped into a quaint restaurant called the Blenheim Guest House and Tea Rooms. I went to the kitchen, and asked where we could find the Black Swan, the pub that is supposedly beside the passageway. I was quickly informed that there was no Black Swan, but then told how I could find the Black Prince. I came out to tell my companions how to get there, and they had decided while I was away to have lunch in the Blenheim Guest House, which was fine by me.

We soon sat down at a table and ordered our meal, and started doing what all friends do while sharing a meal, making conversation and cracking jokes. In between the laughter and the sharing of stories, I quickly realized how much I enjoyed these times of fellowship among friends on this trip. They came so easily, and there was no pressure or demanding involved in them. I could see how the highlight of C.S. Lewis’s week were those nights he spent with the Inklings in the pub and his rooms at Oxford. I understood why Lewis described those moments of enjoying a child’s laughter or time with friends as simple joy with no pretensions. Those things are God’s gift to us to show us how things will be in his kingdom in heaven.

To drive this point home, a group of about a dozen elderly women walked through the door chattering excitedly amongst each other. Dr. Swicegood mentioned something about this probably being the “red hat society,” implying to the effect that they came together often. “How great would that be,” I thought, “to spend your days just hanging out with friends.” The ladies began pulling tables together so that they can sit with one another, so Hayes and I got up to help them. The women were extremely delighted with us, for it was obvious that getting help from complete strangers was something out of the ordinary for them. “Would you care to join us? Would you care to join us?” they jokingly asked us.

As we were getting up to leave, Jessie looked at Hayes and I and said, “Ask if you can get a picture with them,” so Hayes and I did so. This amused them to no end, and a very brusque one asked me, “Young man why exactly do you want our picture.” After I explained to them about the blog and our trip, they were very flattered. I asked them, “So who exactly are you?” One of the ladies answered, “Well we are called the Golden Girls of Woodstock, and we come together to have lunch and chat about once a week. Just a little informal society. Yes, we used to be called the Woodstock Mafia, but we lost our dark glasses. Now we are the Golden Girls.” We took the picture and the Golden Girls of Woodstock wished us well on the rest of our trip. As I walked out of the Blenheim Guest House, I realized that the afternoon had been memorable and well spent, and we had not even reached Blenheim Palace yet!

-Posted by Will Prosser