Royal Oak Roundabout

Taking advantage of the nice weather, we "hired" a car to drop Zambezi off for his trial visit at the Country Canine Retreat (more to come on this). Familiar with stylish Eurowagons unavailable stateside (reference our VW Polo or our all-time sexiest ride, the Honda Jazz), we were pretty happy with the Kia Cce'd and its dog friendly "boot."

Royal Oak Pub #1

The drive appeared to be a straight shot through the village of Dorking (actual name) and down a few country roads. True to stereotype, the directions to the country retreat were based around a local pub. I plotted our route on Google Maps and happily, the pub popped up right away. We arrived without a problem but the directions onward to the retreat didn't add up from there. After much circling around, several phone calls to the owner and consultations with local residents, we determined that we were a town over, at the wrong Royal Oak pub. I re-googled the location, not relying on the apparently-common pub name this time and typed in the street name instead. Off we went. To yet another wrong pub, on a street with the exact same name, again just a village over from our destination. Back in the car. Although the third time was in fact the charm, we weren't able to locate the country retreat without at least six more u-turns and one incident in which the driver might have been driving on the American side of the road (oops).  

This makes me feel a bit better...

Upon finally arriving at the retreat, we unloaded the dog and immediately headed back up to the nearest Royal Oak for a calming pint and much-overdue lunch. Unfortunately although the pub offered tractor races, pantomime horses and allowed guests to sleep in the back garden, there was no food on offer other than the basket of duck eggs on the bar (which the barkeep said you could take home, hatch, raise the duck, kill it, and then bring back in August for the DIY roast. True story.).

The final Royal Oak

Just a short few months until lunch will be served... 

We sat outside in the sunshine and made the best of the situation by enjoying a picnic lunch of crisps, peanuts, and Dillon's baby biscuits. We arrived back in London as the sun was setting- starving, yet assured that Zambezi was "a friendly chap" and confident we would be just fine without driving for another four months.  

The village's finest