Monday, June 29, 2009
The Cotswolds and Burford
I dreaded awakening this morning to discover that I could not move as my knee had swollen double through the night. Fortunately, nothing of the kind happened and though I awoke very late (at 8.00 am) and rushed to wash and dress and get to breakfast, I was relieved to find that the pain in my knee was much better than it had been before I fell asleep last night.
I ate a hasty breakfast, then returned to my room to continue working on my lecture. I worked steadily for the next two hours, making steady headway and only leaving my room about 11 am. I stopped en route at the Maison Francaise which is at the very beginning of Norham Road to check out the accommodation there as Amanda, the lodger from the States who left yesterday, had told me that their rates were better than what I am paying here. An assistant called Coreen took me around the premises and gave me a rate sheet. The place is very nice indeed—very quiet and the rooms are spacious. There are common baths at the end of the corridor but there is one en suite double room. These rooms are available during the months of June, July, August and a part of September only. A good place to consider if ever I return to Oxford again.
Then, I walked along Bevington Road to St. Antony’s and did finally get my ID card today. Not that I am going to be able to use the library and I am leaving tomorrow—but most of my library research is being conducted at the British Library in London anyway! I can use the card to get into the colleges, though, and that I shall do tomorrow. With my knee not doing too badly, I decided to buy the Stagecoach Daypass again and ride all the way to Burford which is the beginning of the Cotswolds.
Bus S2 came along in about fifteen minutes and took me to Witney where I had to change buses. This gave me a good 45 minutes in Witney to explore. I stepped into a few shops in the main Market Square and left with a fantastic buy—a brand new pair of Bally shoes with matching handbag which I snagged for only a few pounds. I just couldn’t believe my luck! I also found another cup and saucer (Aynsley) to add to my collection at home. Then, I stepped into the Information Center where I found bus time tables and was told again that it is very difficult to get to Kelmcott Manor and the Hidcote Manor Gardens without a car. So, since tomorrow is my last day at Oxford, I shall stay in the city itself and see those bits of it that I haven’t yet explored.
At 1. 20, the connecting bus (233) took me to Burford. It was a single decker, so I could not get the wide reaching glimpses of the beautiful Cotswolds countryside through which we drove. It was frightfully hot and people were frantically trying to stay cool. It was only 7 miles from Witney to Burford, a journey that took less than fifteen minutes and before I knew it, we were there.
Beautiful Burford:
I had never been to Burford though when I was at Oxford, many years ago, there had been a student trip organized to the town. It is really a very tiny village but quite visually pleasing because of the uniformity of the structures—all yellow Cotswold stone and black slate roofing, low ceilings, houses with exposed beams which seem to sag under their own weight.
Burford is constructed down a single High Street from which smaller lanes branch out, lined on both sides by similarly quaint houses and gardens brimful of summer flowers—clematis, hollyhocks, delphiniums, hydrangeas, roses and loads and loads of lavender. The English, as the whole world knows only too well, love their gardens and they lavish lots of time, effort and expense in keeping them pristine, Everywhere I looked, I was enchanted by the abundance of hanging baskets spilling over with petunias and bizzie-lizzies and window boxes full of fragrant blossoms. Truly, summer in England is an endless sensual delight.
Right behind the Main Street is a massive stone church—the Church of St. John The Baptist, which is reached by a short stroll along Church Lane. I explored the church yard with old, graying and moss-covered grave stones and memorials and paid a short visit. I had two hours to kill in this peaceful village, fortunately not yet mobbed by tourists or coach travelers. There were antiques stores and sweet shops, several good restaurants and the inevitable tea room and behind the church, a river with water front benches and picnic tables where I sat for a long while in the shade and watched the ducks and ducklings waddle by. It was much too hot to do anything very exciting and I have to say that climate change and global warming is certainly evident in England. Twenty-two years ago, I remember wearing a cardigan throughout the summer and not a single day saw me in a T-shirt. After two decades, I have to say that it is oppressively hot and humid and I was deeply uncomfortable being out in this weather and I badly missed my shorts and sandals.
Seeing a Doctor at the NHS:
Julie Irving at the Senior Associate Members Office at St. Antony’s College had made an appointment for me with the local NHS facility called the Summertown Health Center so that a doctor could take a look at my knee to make sure there was no cause for concern. Sine my appointment was for 4. 40 pm, I rushed back on the first available bus and reached North Oxford at about 4. 40 pm itself. It took me ten minutes to walk from the bus stop to the Health Center on Banbury Road which I reached from Woodstock Road by cutting across Lathbury Road. And as I walked across it, I spied a blue plaque on one of the gate posts of the houses which announced that Nirad Chaudhuri, Writer (from India, of course) had lived there for almost fifty years of his life. His best-known work is The Autobiography of an Unknown Indian and it is odd that I passed his house as I am in the process of preparing my lecture and have been looking at the earliest Indian Writing in English that came out of the UK and, of course, Chaudhuri features quite prominently in that category.
Well, the doctor did examine me—and in the old-fashioned manner in which medicine is still practiced in the UK as I have grown to realize, he diagnosed my condition right away without putting me through a battery of X-rays and tests. He simply told me that there was no fracture and no torn ligaments and no liquid accumulation in my knee. In other words, but for the trauma suffered by my knee cap at the point where it made impact with the ground, there was nothing more serious and I need not worry at all. He told me that the pain would probably persist for a week, gradually fading away and that the local application of a pain-killing ointment would be helpful. Well, it was a great relief to me and I must say, once again, that I am impressed by the working of the NHS in Great Britain as this is the second time that I have had to seek medical assistance for an emergency of sorts and both times I received prompt expert medical care without spending a penny. For that, I very grateful to this country indeed. Needless to say, in the States, no doctor would touch me unless fully assured that I had the resources to pay for the abominably expensive opinion he would offer at the end of which he would recommend further testing that would take a whole day and cost a thousand dollars!
A Trip to Wolvercote:
I took a bus back home to Norham Road where I set aside the bags I was carrying and took a bit of a rest. Then, realizing that I will be leaving tomorrow and returning to London, I decided to set out and accomplish another goal—a trip to Wolvercote to The Trout Inn, a famous pub on the banks of the River Thames. Only, I decided to take the bus there as I had the Stagecoach Daypass and I did not want to tax my knee too much.
The bus trundled along in about ten minutes on Woodstock Road and the driver put me off at the Turn End in Wolvercote (at the end of Woodstock Road) from where I walked for about 15 minutes, past the village of Wolvercote and arrived at The Trout. It was full of the most wonderful memories for me as I had last been there, two summers ago, when my friend Annalisa was spending a summer in Oxford with her sons, Giovanni and Giacomo, and their nanny Stella. At that time, we had walked from North Oxford, across Port Meadow, along the banks of the Thames and Godstow Lock to The Trout Inn where we had sat and nursed a drink as the sun slowly set behind the gushing weir which provides a musical backdrop to the space.
So, as a tribute to my dear friend, I entered the pub, ordered a Pimm’s with Lemonade, the legendary summer drink of Oxford (served in a tall and thin glass with a strawberry, a wedge of cucumber, lemon and lime slices and crushed mint). It was marvelously refreshing and I carried it to the waterside where I found myself a wooden bench on which I propped myself to read. Because, yes, I had carried my new book The Oxford Guide to Inspector Morse and right there in a spot that was frequently used as a very photogenic location for several scenes in the series, I sat and sipped my Pimms and thought of Morse whose great love for real ale took him to so many of Oxford’s most famous pubs and put them forever on the tourist map. I sat there for an hour and a half, people-watching and duck-watching and enjoying the softness of a light evening breeze as the sun set slowly and another summer’s day in Oxford came to an end.
A Memorable Walk Along the Thames Path:
It was about 8. 45 but still very bright when I got up to leave. I had intended, even up to that point, to walk the 15-20 minutes to the bus stop at Wolvercote and ride it back to North Oxford. But then I derived confidence from the fact that the doctor had told me that my knee was fine and I figured that if I walked for another 20 minutes, I would be close to home.
So, again, I relived that marvelous walk I had taken with Annalisa and Stella and her boys and walked along the banks of the river from The Trout Inn to North Oxford, past the ruined nunnery and the Godstow Lock and the flocks of noisy ducks and the colorful cows and the shaggy horses, all of whom crowded the banks along the Thames Path at different intervals. Oh, I so enjoyed the wild life to be found along this walk and though the crew members and their boats were missing (they had been an integral part of our walk, two years ago), there was the occasional kayaker and on the opposite bank, a couple walking four dogs—a breed called Grahams, very similar to Whippets. When I went through spells where there was no one ahead or behind me and my solitude was complete, I took consolation in the fact that they were on the other bank walking parallel to me and I took courage because they were only a scream away (I guess I have watched too much Morse)! Occasionally, I passed couples ‘snogging’ to use an old-fashioned English term, and a couple of cyclists whizzed past. It was a lovely lovely walk and I am so glad I decided on impulse to undertake it, for I have always wanted to walk at least a part of the Thames Path during this year.
When I saw a large number of houseboats moored by the river banks, I knew that I was nearing Oxford. I also saw the spires of the many churches and chapels of the city coming closer within range and in about 45 minutes, I was crossing the curving bridge that took me into Port Meadow, then another bridge that went over the railway track and then I was on Southmoor Road where Annalisa used to live, It wasn’t long before I arrived at Woodstock Road, then along St. Bernard’s Road to Bevington Road and then on to Norham Road. I was hot, really hot, when I reached home exactly an hour after I had started walking from The Trout Inn—it had been a fabulous walk and one I know I will always remember.
Back in my room, I ate a bit of pecan roulade and drank a large cup of coffee while watching the last bits of Andy Murray play a Russian whose name I did not get in what has turned out to be the longest Wimbledon game ever played! It was 10. 45 when the game ended and though Murray made it to the quarter-finals, he was given an amazing run for his money. Played in a closed court, the crowds were ecstatic by his well-deserved win.
I went down to the bathroom to wash and brush and floss my teeth, then I sat to write this blog and get ready for bed. What a day I had and how happily I will recall it!
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