Another Incredible (Graduation) Day in the City of Dreaming Spires: Oxford, Here I Come!

Saturday, July 29, 2023

Oxford: Another Enchanting (Graduation) Day in the City of Dreaming Spires

Getting Out of London:

I am always excited on a trip to Oxford. It brings sharply to my mind my very first journey in 1987 with my friend Firdaus by my side, as we made our way to Oxford to become students there. Other than the fact that we really got to know each other on that journey, I remember sheep in the meadows, cows in the corn. Since then I have done this journey countless times. So, I left my house at 6.30 am, caught the 44 bus from Battersea Park Road to Victoria, got to the Coach Station and since I had over 45 minutes to kill, began to look for breakfast. Sainsbury Local was just across the road, but it only opens at 7.00 am—I had a few minutes’ wait and decided to take a stroll along lovely Elizabeth Street to windowshop.

Window Shopping on Elizabeth Street in London:

I am familiar with Elizabeth Street as the place from where Jo Malone first launched her business in perfume. After she sold Jo Malone to Estee Lauder and gave herself a five-year break before launching another new parfumerie from scratch (Jo Loves), she based it where her love affair with perfume began—on Elizabeth Street. I have been to her lovely fragranced shop here on more occasions than I can remember and this time too, I made a bee line there. Of course, everything was closed and the street, which is basically, a pedestrian plaza, was very quiet. Other shops that caught my eye were Phillip Treacy’s store (he is the millionaire milliner) from which he sells the most amazing hats to a very discerning clientele. The ones I glimpsed from the bow windows were just exquisite and I had visions of Ascot and royal weddings as I took in the sight. There is also Peggy Porchen who makes one-of-a-kind cakes and a couple of antiques shops, including Joanna Wood, whose English Country interiors have been my own inspiration for decades. In fact, I was so enchanted by a pair of lamps in the windows that I could have easily made off with them, if the circumstances were right and I was still living in another era of my life!

Sainsbury’s Baked Goods for Brekkie:

It was time to return to Sainsbury’s (which had just opened) from where I picked up a pain au chocolat and an almond croissant. I did not bother getting coffee as I had a bottle of water in my bag. Inside the coach station, I looked for departures from Oxford on the board—only to find none. I then dug out my ticket to find that National Express has commissioned the Oxford Tube to run their passengers to Oxford. Of course, it meant running across the street to find the coaches lined up there and, in a few minutes, to get my preferred seat (upper deck, front and center) and off we went at 7.25 am on a Saturday morning, while the city still slumbered.

I love the journey out of London—down Buckingham Palace Road, on to Wellington Arch and Apsley House, then around the bend to Park Lane with its expanses of green at Green Park and The Dorchester and the grand sculpture and gardens all along Park Lane until we arrive at Marble Arch, make a sharp left to sail down Bayswater Road past Notting Hill and Lancaster Gate Tube stations and then on to Holland Park (which always makes me look for the home of my friends Loulou and Paul) and on to Shepherd’s Bush and the Westgate Shopping Center. I munched my breakfast pastries en route and thought I would sleep once we did the highway (as has happened in the past), but no luck this time around. I feasted my eyes on sheep and brown cows and black horses as the coach ate up the miles and we took the turn to Lewknor and then the Thornhill Park and Ride before we passed through Hillingdon and entered Oxford at St. Clement’s. From this point on, I began to shoot video footage of the city and our approach into it, past Magdalen Tower and the Botanic Garden and onto Queen’s College where the coach makes a stop before turning left at Carfax to get to St. Aldate’s.

Hopping Off on the High:

Oxford was still asleep (or just awaking) when I hopped off the coach at 9.10 am (right on schedule). I caught a glimpse of a woman in a grand sari, her husband in an Indian achkan. Besides them was their son, a graduating student obviously, already wearing his cap and gown in time for the day’s later formalities and festivities. One of my favorite gift stores in Oxford, Babylon, was still closed and I decided to visit it again after an hour. Although I would usually have simply crossed The High and entered Queens Lane to begin my customary favorite walk, this time round, I decided to do something really different.

First Delightful Walk of the Day:

I retraced the steps of the bus and peered down the stone balustrades over Magdalen Bridge to see the calm Cherwell below. Crew members were getting ready for the day and dozens of punts lay slumbering along the banks of the Botanic Garden. I had the opportunity to take several pictures (including a few selfies on a really windy day) and then crossed the High to begin my walk alone Rose Lane, on the opposite side. I whipped out my trusty map and discovered that if I followed the lane that runs alongside the outer wall of the Botanic Garden, I would reach the Cherwell. It was worth exploring. Not another soul was in sight—so for that brief blissful morning, I had the city and its dreaming spires to myself. En route, when the shot caught my eye, I took pictures of the lush summer bounty in the Botanic Garden where spillage tumbles over the wall: I saw early bunches of grapes on a vine, white Morning Glories, clematis in royal purple and a bunch of wild mauve flowers (gilly flowers) all of which I photographed.

Across, on the other side of a wrought iron fence, I saw the Gothic walls of Merton College across Merton Field. In a few minutes, I reached a bend in the Cherwell. It was still too early to spy punts but on the other side, I saw the pavilion of the cricket ground and the emerald-green expanse of the pitch. Following my map, I walked alongside Merton Field until the spire of Christ Church Cathedral came into view. Then followed more spires, more honey-toned Cotswold stone walls and, in a short time, I was parallel to the Broad Walk that would have led me straight to St. Aldate’s. I decided to walk back to the High past Merton College instead. A small gate brought me to Merton Strreet, the beautiful cobbled oldest street in Oxford on which stands Merton College, the oldest college in the Town, dating from the early 1200s. The bells of Merton College were chiming, and I shot some video—highly atmospheric—before I inquired inside the Porter’s Lodge as to whether I could visit the chapel alone. They said I would need to buy a ticket for 5 pounds to see the entire college. I decided against it (perhaps I shall do it someday with Llew as his nephew as a student at Merton, on a Rhodes Scholarship, when he had studied British jurisprudence here, a few years ago).

I crossed from Magpie Lane back on the High after what was one of the most charming walks I have taken. The early dawn light and the rising sun gilding the Cotswold stone, permitted many delightful photographs across the bright green lawns. I also shot chestnut trees that are getting ready to produce their nut-filled cases.

It was a walk that lasted a whole hour and I looked for a place to sit and perhaps get a hot drink when I realized that Babylon, my preferred gift shop, would be open. I browsed inside but did not find anything that called my name. Leaving quickly, I crossed the street and decided to start my second walk of the day.

My Second Walk in Oxford--One of my Favorites:

I have, in past blog posts, provided details of the history of the colleges I pass through on this, my favorite walk in Oxford (so I shall refrain from doing so this time). Suffice it to say that you pass by New College and spy the spires of All Souls College and then the dome of the Radcliff Camera. In the spring, this walk is more enchanting as wisteria cascades down the college walls bringing a punctuation of mauve notes to the grey and honey toned walls as you pass by old-world gas lamps.

At Hereford College, you go under the Bridge of Sighs and there I made a right to get to the Broad. I noticed at once that the crowds had increased considerably in volume (it was almost 10,30 am by this time). The precincts of the Sheldonian Theatre were out-of-bounds as graduation formalities would be going on inside Christopher Wren’s masterpiece of a building, Oxford’s most recognizable (together with the Radcliff Camera--James Gibbs’ masterpiece). Indeed, Oxford in an architectural paradise and if it is not Wren, it is his pupil Nicholas Hawksmoor’s work (as in the Clarendon Building) that catches the eye. It is an endless visual feast and I ate greedily of the offerings.

I saw down on the bench opposite the Weston Library just for a rest and gazed up at the camera in St. Martin’s School—it is the one place I look at every single day when I am in my usual home as there is a 24 hour streaming service offered by this device. Next, I decided to go along to the Oxfam store where I always look for DVDs and other vintage treasures. This time I found The Monuments Men, one of the most mesmerizing of stories for an art lover. I grabbed it for 2 pounds and then sat outside the store for a while in the pavement café area where tables and chairs offered my feet some respite. I found the city simply heaving. Large crowds of students (some looking no older than high schoolers) were out taking guided walks with certified guides (obviously all taking summer school courses at Oxford). I listened to the commentary from some of them and discovered that St. Frideswald, a Medieval saint whose personal story of chastity is closely linked with the city, has a church somewhere close by and that Mr. Bean (Rowan Atkinson) studied Engineering at Trinity College, across the road from where I sat.

By then it was about 12 noon and I had a 12.30 pm lunch appointment with my friend Dr. Fiona Mann who was driving in from Upper Compton (or Lower?) to meet me. I joined the throngs on Cornmarket Lane, popped into Boots to find clip-on sunglasses and then turned the bend at Carfax to enter St. George’s Street before getting to the Westgate Shopping Center. I popped into Jo Malone, spritzed myself to freshen up and then walked along the High to get to Whittard’s to meet my friend Christophe who works there. Alas, I discovered that he left over a year ago and no one knows where he now is. Oh well…

Lunch with My Friend at Vaults and Gardens Café:

On cue, at 12.30, I found myself gazing at the dome of the Radcliff Camera and at the vast crowds posing for pictures along its wrought iron fencing. When I entered the Vaults and Gardens Café that I know well as I have eaten here at various times, over the years, with various friends, my friend Fiona spied me right away. We had an affectionate reunion hug before we found a table and settled down for a right royal natter. It has been exactly 14 months since she took Llew and me in her car to Waddendon Manor, a totally unforgettable experience, in the Aylesbury countryside. This time round, we decided to get lunch (my treat—after all, she had driven a long way to see me) and then sit down for a long catch up.

We went inside the restaurant to order: the menu changes daily and is up on the walls on large blackboards. I ordered a Squash, Celeriac and Coriander Soup (served with sourdough bread and butter) and an Oxford Cheddar and Gruyere Sourdough Rarebit. Fiona ordered the rarebit and a coffee and took our trays outside, found a lovely table at the side and focussed on enjoying our chat and our meal. The afternoon was simply gorgeous, weather-wise, with the cool wind tempered by the warmth of the sun. After we had exchanged family news and talked about our respective current academic projects, that is a good two hours later, we parted company having taken some pictures in Radcliff Square.

Third Walk—This one in Exeter College:

It was just past 2.30 pm when Fiona and I said our goodbyes. It was the perfect time for me to visit my own college, Exeter College, and so off I went down Brasenose Lane, only to realize that the Fellows Garden and the ramparts of the wall that overlooks Radcliff Square, would be completely out of bounds, long-term, as a huge renovation is occurring in the Library of Exeter College.

When I entered the Porter’s Lodge, I discovered that almost the entire college premises were taken over by a wedding party. There was a large white marquee on the main Quad lawns and the Porter informed me that although alumni were permitted to enter, they were requested to stay away from the chapel where the nuptials had just taken place, the dining hall where the luncheon feast would shortly occur (in the marquee, drinks and cocktails were being served) and the Fellows Garden (where full-scale construction had shut down the entire venue). Fortunately, I was able to enter the Margary Quad where my room was located and where I was able to take a few pictures.

Museum Exploration Begins—The Weston Library First:

A little later, I got out of Exeter College and decided to cross the Broad to get to Blackwell’s Book Store where I could rest my feet. I was beginning to feel seriously fatigued by this time and needed a rest. Inside Blackwell’s, I found one of my favorite books on Oxford, It is fully illustrated by George Byfield whose watercolors I simply adore—I own the companion book on ‘London’ and someday I will buy the Oxford book too. Only not on this occasion. I took a picture of Lady Margaret Hall College from the book for my Repatriates Group friend, Deborah, before I left. I had given myself a 45-minute rest and I was ready to leave.

Next door, I found myself in the gift shop of the Weston Library. I browsed around and found a lot of new merchandise. That’s the great thing about these museum stores—they are constantly changing their wares (so there is always a pleasant surprise). The cushion covers and the tote bags based on the Medieval tapestry out in the lobby are fully sold out. I am so glad I had bought the tote bags, a year ago, and fashioned cushions out of them myself. I spied a nice scarf printed with books from the 1940s, but I have too many scarves and could do without it.

I used the facilities at the Weston Library and then decided to take a look at their newest exhibitions. These too are always changing and one can be fascinated by what one finds of the treasures of the collection. There was an exhibition on ‘The Giver and the Gift’ (the gifts being books) that had on display medieval psalters and Bibles and Quorans that were written on scrolls as well as contemporary books. I was already too fatigued to be able to read every curatorial note, but I got a general gist of the show. Had I more time, I know I would have enjoyed it much more. The second exhibition, in the adjoining gallery was entitled ‘Alphabets Live”—a show on the manner in which the alphabet and their letters feature in our lives. I did not give it too much time before I left to make my way to the Ashmolean Museum. It was already 3.30 pm and I would have no more than 90 minutes there.

Visiting the Ashmolean Museum:

On an afternoon that was simply crammed with human beings, St. Giles and particularly the corner where the Ashmolean Museum shares space with the five-star Randolph Hotel, I tried to spy the location of the other webcam that streams 24/7 scenes of real-life in real time on You Tube. I believe I did see it tucked in a window on the first floor. I looked at the crowds crossing the street and decided to get away as quickly as possible. Going through the side street and gate that takes one into the Ashmolean Museum, for the first time, I found myself on the buzzing portico of the Neo-Classical building.

Once inside, I lost little time making my way to the Porcelain Rooms which I always love and where I can spend a whole day. Sadly, I was running out of time and energy and made a direct bee line for the European paintings on the second floor. Of course, I saw Paolo Uccelo’s The Hunt and Pietro di Cosimo’s The Forest Fire (both of which have individual episodes of Morse and Lewis respectively based on them) before I climbed one floor to get to the Pre-Raphaelites and Turner’s View of Oxford. This time round, my eyes were attracted to two wonderful paintings by William Bell Scott (1811-1890), an artist with whose name I am unfamiliar. He has painted two works that sit side-by-side in the Ashmolean: Keats’ Grave and Shelley’s Grave—both in the Protestant Cemetery in Rome where they died within a year of year other (1821 and 1822—my favorite poet Keats first, then his best friend Shelley). Somewhat inexplicably, the cemetery sits right by a Pyramid and both poets, lie in its shadow. They are truly evocative of the Romantic Age and the tragic lives of the poets that gave us some of our best-loved works.

By then, it was 5.00 pm and the museum staff were already bustling us out. I used the facilities in the basement for the last time and then began to think seriously of getting home. I popped into a second-hand bookstore on the way out and then into Five Guys for a coffee and their salted peanuts. Almost an hour later, I decided to see if the conductor on the Oxford Tube would permit me to board early—my ticket said 8.30, but by 6.00 pm, I’d had enough and badly needed a long sit-down. The thought of walking all the way down the High to Queen’s College was daunting until I remembered that I could board the bus at the terminus at Gloucester Green which was less that five minutes away. And that’s what I did. It gave me a chance to look at the Gloucester Green Street Market which was winding down and, in about ten minutes, I was in a coach ready to wend my exhausted way home. I discovered that there is no restriction on when one has return—any time within a three month period is fine. I loved the flexibility and off we went!

En route to London:

I seriously thought I would have a long snooze on the bus; I had a very friendly and talkative companion who happened to be a second year PhD Chemistry student at St. Edmund Hall. His name was Jasper and he told me all about his dissertation and his American girl friend who wishes to specialize in Urulogy. The miles were just eaten up by our conversation and before I knew it, he was getting off at White City heading home to his parents who live at Ealing, not too far from where I had once rented a Victorian flat! In Oxford, he was renting a flat at Norham Gardens where I had once rented a flat! We simply could not get over the coincidence!

Back Home to Battersea:

It was just past 8.15pm when we arrived at Victoria. I ate the second half of my Rarebit on Sourdough in the coach together with a helping of Tiramisu which I had bought from Sainsbury earlier in the day. This meant that I could get home, take a shower and go straight to bed as I was deeply fatigued.

The 44 bus from across the Victoria coach station was not long in coming and I jumped into it and rode the 15 minute journey to Battersea where I got off and walked quickly along Candahar Road to Sarah’s. Inside, I found her at the end of a nice dinner party with two friends, one of whom had a dog named Lola. Sarah asked if I wanted a drink, but I was only keen to get up to my room. Once inside, I sorted through my things, checked my email and whatsapp messages (as I had no connectivity all day), brushed and flossed my teeth and went straight to bed at 10.30 pm.

Until tomorrow…cheerio!

Au Revoir London, Hiya Again Oxford: First Day in the City of Dreaming Spires

 Au Revoir London,  Hiya Again Oxford: First Day in the City of Dreaming Spires 

London-Oxford

Sunday, May 22, 2022

    At last the day dawned when we'd be leaving London to return to Oxford to spend a few days roaming through Oxfordshire and re-visiting a part of the Cotswolds that Llew and I had both loved following a wonderful time with Chriselle about twenty years ago. But first, we'd need to get cracking at our pad at Paddington, eat breakfast (bits and bobs of all our leftovers in the fridge), clean house and get going. With a small strolley each and the gifts we had bought for our hosts Susan and Tony, we set off at 8.30 am to begin our journey to Oxford.

Off to Oxford:

    We took the 36 bus from Praed Street to Victoria and hopped into the Oxford Tube on Buckingham Palace Road. We were on the 9.15 coach and hoped to be in Oxford by 10.30--it being a Sunday, the coach flew rapidly through Oxford and we were at the Westfield Shopping Mall at Brent Cross in less than half an hour. We expected to reach very much on schedule, but alas, with a combination of a road accident and road works, we were held up for over 40 minutes on the highway and arrived at the High Street in Oxford only at 11.00 am. We alighted at St. Aldgates and hopped into an X3 local bus for three stops to get to our hotel for two nights--Lake Street Studios that I had booked two weeks ago! And then, guess what? Whom should we meet on the bus but our friend Susan! She heard my voice talking to the driver and inquiring about our stop (3 stops away) and our tickets when she came from the back of the bus, said "Rochelle?" and next thing you know, we were hugging and kissing right there in the bus and I was introducing her to Llew whom she was meeting for the first time!

Settling Into our Oxford Studio:

Susan got off one stop before us (we'd be meeting her at her place for supper at 5.00 pm). Llew and I alighted from the bus, found Lake Street just a few meters away, walked down it to our Studios and met Jan, our hostess, who led us into our lovely room for the next two nights. It is indeed a studio with a living area, bed/sleeping area (there is an ultra-comfortable double bed), a kitchenette that is fully equipped with microwave oven, fridge and all necessary china and silverware. We also have our own little private garden outside that has David Austin pink roses tumbling down a brick wall. What a pretty entry into Oxford!

Taking the Thames Path from Grandpont to Oxford:

After stashing our stuff in our studio which is in the Grandpont part of Oxford, and on taking Jan's advice to reach into Oxford Town Center by the picturesque route, we walked out of our studio at about 12.30 pm and took the little gate to the Oxford Tow Path across the street. We found the gate leading to the Thames and followed the Tow Path towards the City Center. It was a perfectly gorgeous day--blue skies, fluffy white clouds, benign sunshine on our backs, comfortable temperature--we could not have asked for better. The river and its banks were busy with rowers, sailors, hikers, joggers, dog-walkers. Across the river, we spied Magdalen Tower and the route via the Meadows of Christ Church College that leads to the River bank. Believe me when I say that the setting was just idyllic and the perfect entry into Oxford.

Lunch at Westgate Shopping Mall:

    By the time we were done with our hour-long walk, we were in the City Center and feeling distinctly peckish.  We decided it was time to go out in search of lunch and after a quick nip into John Lewis where I finally found the OPI nail polish I was seeking, we arrived at a place called Street Food Social that offered a choice of cuisines--we opted for Benito's Mexican and ordered slow-roasted pork burritos with rice, black beans, sour cream, lettuce, tomato and a Southwestern sauce. This was served with chips, salsa and a drink (Fanta) and it made a  very substantial meal for Llew and me. 

Off to Gloucester Green Bus Station:

    Replete with our Mexican repast, we went out in search of the Gloucester Green Bus Station to find out about purchasing a Stage Coach smart card for travel in the Cotswolds. After a series of inquiries, we were informed that we ought to speak to the driver of the S3 bus tomorrow. He would sell us a smart card that we could then load with a top-up for a week's worth of unlimited travel. We could then pay the additional rider amount to get from one town or village to the next. This would eliminate the need for Llew to drive in the Cotswolds (something that he was rather reluctant to do, in the first place) and it would be far more economical than renting a car, paying for gas, and navigating our way through a tangle of country roads. Hopefully, this alternative will serve us well.  We shall see....we are flexible and have no real plan for the next three days. With trains and buses at our service, we think we might be able to swing it. I resolved to pick up a map of the Cotswolds from the Tourist Information Office on Broad Street. 

Off to the Ashmolean Museum:      

    I dropped Llew off to the entrance of the Ashmolean and put a leaflet containing the 12 highlights of the Museum that I suggested he begin seeing. I nipped off to the Tourist Information Office on Broad Street only to find that it has fallen victim to the pandemic and closed down! An institution in itself, I have used this office for at least 35 years and I simply cannot believe it is no more! The abundance of promotional brochures I have picked up from here, over the years, is staggering. 

    With no choice, I nipped into the Oxfam store next door hoping to pick up the DVD set that I had passed on at my last visit with Amy, two weeks ago--only to find that it had sold out! However, the costume jewelery I had liked was still there and I did go ahead and purchase it. Then, I hurried off to meet Llew back at the Ashmolean. Needless to say, I began taking the Highlights Tour myself and we met at the two paintings that are the most prominent ones in the museum: The Hunt (which demonstrates Paolo di Uccelo's use of the 'vanishing point' in art and Forest Fire by Piero di Cosimo. However,  what really caught my eye and grabbed it on this visit was Anthony van Dyke's portrayal of The Deposition of Christ which is not only deeply moving but also horror-evoking.

We went again through the various highlights together and I even took in the glory of the porcelain gallery--for indeed the Ashmolean has a whole entire gallery devoted exclusively to painted porcelain (my passion!). Of course, I could have spent two whole hours in this gallery, but time was of the essence. We moved on and left the museum (after using the facilities) to arrive at Tesco where we bought decaff coffee and milk for ourselves for tomorrow. 

We then took the bus from St. Aldgates back to our Lake Street Studios where we were left with only enough time to get ourselves dressed and ready for the next item on our agenda--our appointment with Susan and Tony at their place at 5.00 pm.

A Walk and Dinner with Susan and Tony at their Home:

    Susan and Tony are passionate gardeners and have maintained an allotment plot for ages. They suggested we arrive at their place at 5.00 pm so that they could walk with us to their plot to see it. Accordingly, Llew and I walked through lovely Hinksey Park that was full of people, dogs and squealing children as they used the lake, the adjoining swimming pool or simply sat on the green lawns and picnicked. As I said, on a day that cried for being outdoors, folks took full advantage of the benevolence of the weather and basked in it. 

    Five minutes later, we were at our hosts' front doors, were met and greeted and welcomed. Our gifts (from India and Harrod's) changed hands and we settled down briefly. A few minutes later, we began our walk to the allotment (just a few minutes away) where Susan opened the lock and let us it. 

    It is lovely to be in a flourishing allotment and most people look after their's with a passion. During Covid, it provided a way to live outdoors and socialize even if briefly. We were introduced to their friend Katrina and then spent the next half hour walking through a variety of plantings: herbs, flowers, veg. Susan and Tony had a beautiful corner plot that is backed by a climbing rose that is simply stunning as its flowers cascade down from way up high to the ground. We picked some radishes from their plot and decided to take them home to munch on with salt (the French way) with our drinks. Indeed, an allotment provides the biggest rewards of any that one can get directly from the earth and the concept that began with the Victory Garden of war-times in England has escalated into a daily pass time for a number of people. 

    About a half hour later, we were back at Susan and Tony's where we were handed drinks and nibbles (a red wine for Llew, a G & T for me) and pistachios and chips--out on the patio in full sunshine with views past a meadow filled with golden buttercups that melts down to the river. It was truly picturesque and we enjoyed the companionable moments with our kind and hospitable friends who take so much trouble always to entertain us at their home. Indeed, I have always felt that the true test of friendship is people who open their home to you, cook and serve you food they have prepared themselves and, regardless of the time and trouble it will entail, continue to have intimate dinner parties for a few select friends. Kim and Mark did it for us on the Isle of Wight, Elise did that for us yesterday, Susan and Tony did it for us today and Michael and Cynthia had me over at their place for lunch last week and will be hosting us for dinner next week. We are truly blessed in our friends.   

    Drinks done, we moved into the dining area for our meal. Tony, of course, is master of the kitchen and is very ably assisted by Susan. He always serves us the most incredible feasts and this evening was no exception: he presented a stunning creation by Yottam Ottolengthi (whose books I own in Connecticut)--a pie of sorts with a stuffing comprising of a cinnamon pilaf studded with raisins and pine nuts and lemon juice set in a mould lined with sauted slices of aubergine! It was wonderful! To accompany this one-dish meal was a lovely green salad with a piquant dressed (also made by Tony). Susan came into her own at dessert time when she offered us Nigella Lawson's brownies with vanilla ice-cream--delish was not the word! How grand was our meal and how dear are our friends? 

The discussion around the table was equally stimulating--we talked about contemporary friends, our coping over the pandemic, Llew and my future plans with regards to closing shop in the US and starting afresh in Bombay--a prospect we look upon as an exciting adventure with all sorts of possibilities ahead. We made plans to meet tomorrow for breakfast at their place followed by a day that the two of us will spend re-exploring the Cotswolds. Then, we will meet again for dinner at Quod, a fancy Continental restaurant on The High, where we will celebrate Llew's birthday! It promises to be a lovely day tomorrow and we are looking forward to it with gusto.

    Until tomorrow...cheerio!            

Being a Tourist in Oxford!

Thursday, August 15, 2019

Oxford

Being a Tourist in Oxford—Exploring Ashmolean Museum, Oxford Castle and Prison, Afternoon Tea at Grand Cafe, ‘Talking Maps’ Exhibition at the Weston Library, Poking Around a Few Oxford Colleges

     Hiya from Oxford!

     With my friends Sue and Tony having left yesterday for Bristol, I awoke alone in their home at about 6.30 am and looked at Twitter and my email. I also made a call to my Dad and to Russel in Bombay just before they could sit down for lunch.

A little later, I decided to have my breakfast while watching the BBC Breakfast Show and catching up with world news. For breakfast, I had two slices of Tony’s home made bread with butter and cheddar cheese that I found in the fridge. I also had a flat white peach (which was superbly ripe, sweet and delicious) and a few really gorgeous English cherries. This with a cup of coffee saw me well through the morning.

     After a quick shower, I got dressed and left the house. I made my way first to Hinksey Park as I wanted to get some pictures of the ducks on the pond in the soft light of the morning. That done, I walked along Marlborough Road but this time, I took a detour back to the Abington Road in order to get some pictures of the river Thames at Folly Bridge. I also got some nice pictures of Christ Church College.

     I was at the Ashmolean Museum a little after 10.15 and heard from my friend Rosie Hawes whom I was meeting with her two girls, Mathilda (Mattie) and Molly. After following each other on Twitter for ten years, we were meeting for the first time. Her mother Elizabeth had first become my Twitter friend and through her, I had started following all her children. Sadly, Elizabeth passed away within about four years of my getting to know her well. I was very much saddened by her passing—so it is good that my relationship with her continues through her children.

     About a half hour after I arrived at the Ashmolean, I met up with Rosie and the girls who had taken the train in from Tackley where  they live in a little village.  It was so good to find such a warm and vibrant person and to finally see the children that I have known for years through Twitter as ‘the Ms’. 

Without wasting too much time, we went one floor down to the basement cafe where Rosie treated me to a cafe latte and the girls had lemon drizzle cake with hot chocolate.  We used about an hour to get to know a little bit about ourselves and then, because they were free for the rest of the morning, I asked if they would like to go the Oxford Castle and Prison. The place was a real prison until 1996 when it was closed and it was in 2003 that it was opened as a tourist attraction. So, during my time in Oxford in the late 1980s, it was a functioning prison.Today, the castle has been turned into a tourist attraction and the prison is a hotel run by the Malmaison group. 

Exploring Oxford Castle and Prison:

The ticket to the Castle cost 10.50 pounds but it came with a guided tour that lasted an hour. In fact, one can only explore the castle with a tour guide—wandering around on one’s own is not allowed. 

     There is also a full-scale gift shop attached to the Castle and I was pleased to find all manner of typically English items sold there from Harry Potter memorabilia (his school, Hogwarts, is after all, a castle) to lavender scents. We managed to have a browse around before the guide assembled us together and began with an introduction.

As in the case of most tours of this kind, there is always some terribly gruesome detail that stays with you long after the commentary has passed. It is best not to report it here but suffice it to say that the place was used as a prison practically from medieval times almost at the same time that the castle was constructed about a thousand years ago soon after the Norman Conquest in 1066. We learned about the moat and bailey and the need to construct a fortification after the Vikings passed through Oxford and burned it to the ground. We learned about Queen Mathilda and her fierce fight against her captors that led to her escaping on skates in the winter upon the ice-bound River Thames.  We learned about Victorian England and the kind of prisoners (mostly thieves imprisoned for stealing—usually bread because they were starving) and the horrible punishments to which they were subjected. We were taken up to the Tower which offered fabulous views of the city and its famous ‘dreaming spires’. It was all quite wonderful, and especially wonderful if you were a child. The Ms were enthralled. They were allowed to place their heads in the pillory (which is called the ‘stocks in America) and get a feel of what it might have been to have things hurled at you while you were helplessly restrained.  Talking of which, I saw a straitjacket for the very first time. The Ms were able to try on period costumes and take pictures in them at the end of our tour after which we had one more treat in store. I was fascinated to hear (as we left the premises) that one episode of the Morse mysteries (“The Wench is Dead”) was actually shot in this prison—and I could immediately see why as I did remember that episode vaguely. It is not one of my favorites, but I shall now be sure to see it again.

Climbing the Mound at Oxford Castle:

Our ticket included entry past a secure electronic gate that permitted us to climb up the Mound that is attached to Oxford Castle and which was one of the first man-made structures of the complex as it served as a look-out by alerting residents of the Castle to enemy presence as they sailed up the Thames. There is a well-hewn path that is also well-trodden that allows visitors to climb to the top for spectacular views of the Oxford colleges and chapels with their glorious domes and multiple spires. I was able to spy the spindly spire of Exeter College and the girls were able to get a sense of where Pembroke College is located as that is where their Dad is a don. It was a beautiful day and the sun shone full and golden upon this ancient city that was seen in its most stunning light on this lovely summer’s day. But much as we would have liked to stay longer, we had to move on as the girls had hairdresser appointments. 

Visiting Former Oxford Prison:

However, I did not want to let them leave without taking in what used to be Oxford Prison. It has now been converted into a luxury hotel by the Malmaison Group and the astounding thing about it is that some genius of an architect has actually managed to retain the interior of the building without altering it at all.  The result is that when you get past the Reception and enter the main body of the hotel, you are actually in what used to be the Prison—and this is clearly evident if you have watched any prison movies.  There are the tiered corridors that rise above you with the occasional step ladders that allow access to the various floors; there are the cells with their secure doors lined up along the corridors--these are now the individual rooms of the hotel. The entire set-up is quite enthralling and both Rosie and I were amazed as were the girls.

At the end of the afternoon, we were all so thrilled that we’d had the opportunity to finally meet and get to know ourselves a bit better. Rosie was super company—she is as funny and vibrant in person as she seems on Twitter. Having grown up with the Ms on Twitter, I felt as if I had known them forever. We took several pictures to memorialize our meeting before we hugged and said goodbye and they hurried off to enjoy the rest of their day.

Taking Afternoon Tea at The Grand Cafe:

I do believe that one ought not to leave the UK on an extended stay without eating a pub lunch (we’d had our fish and chips), eating a traditional breakfast (I’d had my ‘full English’ at  Battersea) and taking Afternoon Tea. I had not quite completed the third ritual—so Tea it would be, even if I was alone and had no company to enjoy it.

     I have also made the very recent discovery that The Grand Cafe on the High Street is the oldest coffee shop in England (having been opened in 1650). It actually vies for attention with Queens’ Coffee House which is just across the road and which opened in the late 1600s. I have had tea and scones in the latter place but had never set foot into The Grand Cafe although I have had many teas in Oxford at various places over the years (including  the ultra-posh Randolph Hotel and in many of the cafes of the department stores). So, determined to make this visit as much fun as it was historic, I had decided to skip lunch and have lunch and tea together at this place.

Afternoon Tea at the Grand Cafe:

The Grand Cafe is really a very small place-it is just one large room really with space for about 30 covers at any given time. It advertised its Afternoon Tea on the menu at the entrance as costing 18 pounds—I thought this was very reasonable, especially as it said that one would receive sandwiches, scones and cakes. Inside, I was asked by a waiter if I would be dining—I told him that I wished to order Afternoon Tea. He looked pleased with himself and led me to a corner which was perfect for me. I have gotten over most of my embarrassment at dining alone in public, but sometimes I do feel a remnant twinge of discomfort when I am in this situation. Having this corner table allowed me to stay away from the curious eyes of other patrons who might have wondered why I was alone.

     A waitress then came up and asked me for my choice of tea. I told her that I wanted something decaffeinated and she pointed me to the English Breakfast which was the only decaf black tea--the rest were herbal teas. A little later, my tea pot arrived with the tea bag steeped in it. As my tiered tea stand took a long while to arrive, my tea got very strong. I, therefore, ordered a canister of hot water so that I could mix the brew and make it more pleasant to my taste.

  When the tiered cake stand arrived, I found that it had only two types of sandwiches: Egg Mayonnaise and Smoked Salmon (most Afternoon Teas give you at least three types). The Egg Mayonnaise was tasteless because it was completely unseasoned. I asked for salt and pepper and with the addition of these condiments, it became edible. The smoked salmon sandwich, on the other hand, was superb: they did not stint on the salmon which was thick and very fresh. Two scones were provided (one plain, one fruit)—they were huge and extremely fluffy and light—they literally melted in my mouth as I enjoyed them with little pots of clotted cream and strawberry jam (which I was told could be refilled). However, you had to finish your pot first before the same one was refilled—hard to believe that a long-standing cafe with such a sterling reputation does not have adequate pots to go around! As for the cakes, well, those were an apology for anything you would find at Afternoon Tea in a place that calls itself a grand cafe! Far from expecting delicately constructed and decorated petits fours (which was what the advertisement had boasted) I got two tiny little pieces of sponge cake—so tiny and so poorly presented, they made me sick—one was a crumb of lemon drizzle cake (and I literally mean a crumb) and the other was a piece of Victoria sandwich sponge (equally minuscule—you literally needed a magnifying glass to see them). I could not have been more disappointed because for me the cakes are the best part of Afternoon Tea. 

I took my own time lingering over the meal, however, as I really did need the foot rest after being on my feet all day and because it was a good way to kill time. I paid my bill soon enough and left and said to myself, “been there, done that”. Would I recommend this place to anyone? Certainly not. You are much better off going to the Quod hotel next door where the Afternoon Tea costs just a pound more and I can bet the cakes will actually look like cakes! 

Taking in the Exhibition at the Weston Library:

I inevitably found myself making my way down the High Street to Radcliffe Square to take in the most superlative architecture in the city. Needless to say, I clicked a lot of pictures as the buildings are one of my favorite parts of this city.  Reaching Broad Street, I took some more pictures of myself on the webcam and then wandered into the Weston Library that was advertising a ‘Talking Maps’ exhibition that I thought would be a lot of fun as I really do love maps and navigating the world through them.

The exhibition was very small and was based on a few ancient tomes that are in the possession of the Bodleian Library (as the Weston Library is a part of it). It is a very interesting building that dates from the 1800s on the outside (so that the original shell is still standing in its clean Cotswold stone) but the inside was completely gutted and redone. It is still a working library and I have had the pleasure of working in here, but it is to the cafe and to the seasonal changing exhibitions that most visitors come.

   

Meeting Sally Stuart at the Martin School:

With some more time to spare, I decided to make one more effort to meet Sally Stuart, one of the staffers of the Martin School which opened about 15 years ago. Prior to this time, this building used to be the Indian Institute where all studies pertaining to the Indian sub-continent were undertaken. There are still heads of cows, lions and elephants that decorate the facade of the building to reflect the original scholarly interest of this place. I have used this building myself and have spent a lot of time in it when I was a grad student here. Hence, this place and its camera (perched in the cupola upstairs) is special to me. It’s webcam telecasts on You Tube a live stream of the goings-on down Broad Street and when I discovered its existence, I got hooked. For most of the past year, while living in Bombay, I had this channel on my TV playing all day while I sat at my laptop and worked. It made me feel as if I were sitting at one of the windows of the Martin School working hard while looking down upon the scene on Broad Street. Hence, for almost a year, I have lived in my imagination. When the camera stopped working for 3 days, I became so upset that I found the email address of the Communications person (who turned out to be Sally) and requested her to look into the matter. She responded to me in minutes and got the camera working again. Someone had inadvertently turned it off. I wanted to meet Sally to thank her for responding and I was quite delighted that I succeeded today. She came down to meet me and spent abut fifteen injures chatting with me. She told me that I was not the only one using the site. She told me that if anything happens to the streaming telecast, the Martin School gets emails from all around the world. It turns out that their time in Oxford was precious for thousands of people around the world and they are all tuned in to what is going on in the city. In fact, my friend Rosie was amazed that I know more about what has happened in Oxford in the past year (such as the introduction of the public bus service going to Wytham Woods and the Harwell campus) than people who live in Oxfordshire themselves!  Well, after our visit, I was very pleased with myself and felt that I’d had a really fruitful day.

Exploring a Few Unfamiliar Areas of Oxford:

I was quite tired by this point as my plantar fasciitis has made it very difficult for me to walk as much as I am normally used to doing. Still, with about two hours of real solid day light left (it gets dark very late in the summer in the UK), I decided to go out and explore parts of the town with which I am still not familiar. For instance, I had seen the central monument of Corpus Christi College in an episode of Morse (‘The Daughters of Cain’) but I had never come across it myself (because I had never ventured into this college quadrangle). I decided today to go out there and try to find it. But I was not sure where Corpus Christie was!

That’s when I had a brain wave! I remembered that The Tuck Shop on Catte Street had a beautifully illustrated map of Oxford that was in its front window. If I could take a picture of that map (I have that map on my wall at home and in my office at NYU), I would be able to find the college. And that was exactly what I did! I walked out the shop, took a picture, found out that I could access Corpus Christie through Oriel Square and then set off to find it.

Exploring Corpus Christie and Merton Colleges:

In a sort time, I went past Carfax and arrived at Magpie Lane that took me past ‘The Bear’, the oldest pub in Oxford which has the largest collection of ties plastered in cases all over its walls and ceiling--there was a time when one could pay for a drink by leaving the publican a tie (not any more!). 

I arrived then at Oriel Square which had suddenly become very quiet as the colleges close their doors to visitors by 5.00 pm and we were long past this hour. Still, security was quite lax and I was able to go back the door of Corpus Christie College and stand in the Porter’s Lodge where I spied the monument with the golden pelican at the top. I was able to take a few pictures of the college in the rays of the dusk sun which made it look honey-toned. 

A little later, I took a turn down Merton Lane and found myself in the only street in Oxford which still has cobble stones. This makes it difficult to walk on, no doubt, but it adds an air of antiquity that is very special indeed. I passed alongside the exterior of Merton Chapel as I strode the pavement and was sorry to learn that it is very special and open to visitors during set hours (including for Vespers and Evensong) on some days of the week during term time. Merton happens to be the oldest of the Oxford colleges and dates back to the 1300s. It is also the college in which Llew's nephew had been a Rhodes Scholar, a few years ago. I had never been inside it and it was with great pleasure that I went through the doors to the Porter’s Lodge to look upon paths leading to multiple quads inside. Sadly, I will have to keep visits to these two colleges for a later visit. I have now learned not to say Never Again to any place I visit because, like the proverbial bad penny, I keep turning up! 

     That done, I walked along Merton Lane which has featured in so many of the murder mysteries I have watched on TV—from Morse to Lewis to Endeavor. It is a favorite motif of the film-maker to have his detective protagonists walk along this street at the end of the episodes while the credits are rolling. It is an incredibly quiet street with barely an occasional car swinging by. This explains, probably, why it is so popular with film crews. In fact, there was a crew wrapping up when I arrived at Merton

A Quiet Last Evening at ‘Home’:

I was absolutely wiped out, as you might imagine by this point and was looking forward to a quiet relaxing evening on my own in the house in Grandpont which has an easy way of making me feel as if I am home. Today, I had better luck opening the front door than I had yesterday (when the resident across the street had come forward to help me!). Once inside, I crashed on the sofa in front of the telly and after I felt a bit refreshed, I got up and went into my room to get priorities right—I needed to attend to my packing as I would be leaving early tomorrow to take my coach to London.

     The packing took a while and much ingenuity but I managed to get everything in (as well as the cakes I had bought at M and S and the underwear that Llew had requested). I managed to fit these all into three bags, two of which were backpacks (worn one in front and one at the back!) and the third was an M and S shopping bag that I would carry in my hand. It would be challenging but I would manage.

     With my packing done, I had a nice shower and changed for the evening before getting my dinner sorted--I finished the leftovers (lasagne and apricot tart) from the fridge and indulged in a slice of the Pecan Roulade that is one of my favorite desserts and that I cannot resist buying when I am in the UK. Feeling much more strengthened by my meal (although I was still quite full from my big tea), I decided to get ready for bed. 

     I lay down on my final night in the UK and on the last night of my year-long travels away from home. It is amazing what a lovely end I had to an absolutely unforgettable year. I know that I was deeply privileged and blessed to have this opportunity and I am truly grateful to the Lord and His Blessed Mother that they smiled upon my prayers and granted me my wishes. I do not believe that I shall ever have a year like this again.

     It was past 11.00 pm when I fell asleep but was awakened by some guys talking really loudly as they went past my window. Following this disturbance,  I took a long time to go back to sleep—so I was glad that I had set my alarm for 6.15 am with the idea of giving myself an hour to leave the house (at 7.15 am) for my 7.45 coach to London.

     Until tomorrow...

       

Relaxing on Saturday in Oxford's Museums and Visiting Bicester Village

Saturday, September 17, 2016

Oxford
Relaxing on Saturday in Oxford's Museums and Visiting Bicester Village

     I am waking up at 6.30 am now and thinking it is still 4.00 am. The days are closing in on us and it is much darker at 6.30 than it used to be. The weekend, I decided, would be devoted to seeing those bits of Oxford I have not yet had the time to see. Saturday was also for taking things easy—no reason to tear out at the crack of dawn. Subsequently, I watched an episode of Inspector Morse in-between having my breakfast (honey yogurt with muesli and decaff coffee) with the telly on and felt generally relaxed. I love lazing on the couch here with a knitted throw to keep me toasty—this is so much like being at home in Southport, Connecticut. I am truly loving it here.

     Finally, after a long chat with my Dad in Bombay and some catching up on my blog (all of which took so much time), I went in for a shower and dressed. By the time I left the house it was 11.00 am. I had a rough idea of where I wanted to go and what I wanted to do…but I was also going to let the whim take me where it would.

The Museum of Oxford at the Town Hall:

     So, when I got off the bus at St. Aldate’s and saw a poster outside the Town Hall of Oxford advertising the Museum of Oxford, I decided to pop in there. It was the first time I had ever been there. The Town Hall itself is quite magnificent inside—it has a highly ornamental ceiling with very intricate plasterwork. However, visitors are not allowed to go up there except on a guided tour which is offered just twice a month. Instead, I looked at the two galleries that comprise the museum. It shows how the city has grown since 1066 through maps and has a lot of other memorabilia that puts one in mind of the contribution of this city to the world: the Morris Minor, for instance, was made in Oxford, as was Frank Cooper’s Oxford Orange Marmalade which is still being manufactured. I took a really quick look around and walked out about 20 minutes later.

Down Cornmarket Street and into the Church of St. Michael at North Gate:

     Cornmarket was already buzzing by the time I got there and it was all I could do to fight crowds to allow me to enter the Church of St. Michael at North Gate. It is almost a thousand years old and despite many visits to Oxford in the past, I had never been in there. This day was devoted to looking at things I had never seen before. Hence, the detour into this church. Visitors pay a fee to climb the tower and get some nice views of Oxford from the top. I did not feel tempted to do so. Instead, I walked briskly towards the Ashmolean Museum and gave myself up the pleasure of perusing its marvelous collection.

Visiting the Ashmolean Museum:

     Arriving at the Ashmolean, I was delighted to find a special exhibit on Rembrandt entitled “Sensations”. It is a series of small and very early oil paintings that depict the five human senses. Many artists, apparently, tried their hands at this theme and because Rembrandt was so unknown when he attempted them, they were dispersed and are only now surfacing to be recognized as part of the series. Only last year, one more turned up. It was found somewhere in the US. The last one, Taste is still missing and might be lost forever—who knows? But in the exhibition were Sight (A Peddlar Selling Eye Glasses), Sound (Three Musicians Singing), Smell (Attempts to Recover a Man who has become unconscious with smelling salts) and Touch (A man’s ears being cleaned and probed by a Quack who causes him deep pain). They are really very evocative of these sensations and I actually felt my knees grow weak at the last one.

     Following this viewing, I went in search of the two highlights of the museum—The Hunt by Paolo Uccello that focusses on the vanishing point in art (figures getting smaller as they recede into the distance—one episode of Inspector Lewis has reference to this work) and The Forest Fire by Pietro di Cosimo which presents animals and birds running away in terror from a fire in a forest. They are powerful works most remarkable for their wealth of detail.

     Next I wandered through a number of galleries with no focused aim. I spent a lot of time with the china (porcelain) collection for this museum has loads of it. I also returned to its biggest highlight—The Alfred Jewel—which is considered the most important archeological find in the UK. It is a lovely little item in gold and rock crystal that probably adorned the end of a pointer that was used to read medieval manuscripts. It was found purely by chance as peat was being dug out and collected. In the Textile section, I was most taken by a gigantic tapestry that represents Southern England with Oxford and its surroundings in the center and London at the bottom. It is also remarkably accurate, given its age. The Ashmolean is also proud of its ownership of Pocahontas’ cloak and of the tin lantern that Guy Fawkes is said to have carried on the night he hatched the Gunpowder Plot—but as I had seen these items before, I did not go looking for them again.

        When I had spent more than an hour at the Ashmolean, I decided to get out and do something else. But then, as I was going on a whim, I saw a bus (S1) at Magdalen Road with a sign saying that it was going to Bicester (pronounced Bister)—so I boarded it and off I went.

Inspecting Bicester Village Outlet Center:

     Imagine…when I left my home this morning, I had absolutely no intention of going to see designer outlets. And yet, there I was! It took about half an hour to get to Bicester on the bus that was filled with young Asian kids with extra deep pockets. As I had never been to an outlet center in the UK, it was a good experience. I wondered how they would differ from the ones we are accustomed to in the US. Well, I was about to find out…

     There were all the usual British suspects lined up in a row—Burberry (it actually had a line waiting outside to get in), Smythson, Vivienne Westwood, Paul Smith…but also names from the rest of the world’s galaxy of stars: Prada, Kate Spade, Saint Laurent, you name it…I, of course, had no intentions of buying anything, but it was fun to look. What was not fun were the price tags. I had massive sticker shock. Outlets in the US offer far lower prices. There is simply no comparison.

     An hour later, I was on the bus again, returning to Oxford. I had some more museums to see before they closed for the day…

Visiting the Parks’ Museums--Natural History and the Pitt Rivers Museum:

     The northern part of Oxford is renowned for three things: gorgeous Victorian Gothic mansions (in one of which I had stayed a few years ago as a lodger), the Natural History Museum and the Pitt Rivers Museum. For old times’ sake, I got off the bus at Bevington Road, just past St. Antony’s College, where I cut across to Norham Gardens to see my former home. I have such happy memories of this place that was run by a Mrs. Longrigg with whom I am still in touch after all these years. I intend to meet her again before I leave, but for the moment, all I did was take a picture of the sunroom above the garage in which I had once stayed.

     Then, I walked to the University Park and noticed that the trees have leaves whose foliage is rapidly changing color—I now see rusts and yellows. The temperature is also distinctly autumnal now and I was grateful for my jacket. At the end of the Park near Keble College, there was an emergency situation. It seems that a young woman on a bicycle suddenly had an epileptic fit and fell to the ground, much to the consternation of her young male companion. He laid her on the ground as some passers-by called for the ambulance. I waited for a while until she seemed more stable and had stopped thrashing and dribbling. The ambulance had not yet arrived when I walked away as I found the entire situation deeply disturbing and there was not much I could do to help.

     By the time I got to the Natural History Museum, just a few meters away, I realized I had not eaten anything since breakfast—so I went straight to the café and ate a vegetable samosa and a latte. They were both delicious—but maybe I was just starving by then (about 4.00 pm)! Across the Museum I went and descended the stairs to see the Shrunken Heads at the Pitt Rivers Museum (which is one of the plots of an Inspector Lewis episode) and the antiquated knife—which Colin Dexter had woven into one of his Inspector Morse plots. You can see that with not much time left, I made sure I asked specifically for these items and was delighted when I found them. The Pitt Rivers Museum is so fascinating to me that I would love to return to it to spend some more time inside. But at 4.30 pm, they shooed us all out.

Heading to the St. Cross Building:

     Part of my plan for today was traversing parts of Oxford on foot that I had not done for a very long time. Walking along South Parks Road, I turned into St. Cross Road where I had once attended lectures in the English Faculty Building. Alas, they are renovating it and it was out of bounds to visitors. I took a picture of the steps and the facade and then continued along the road to arrive at Holywell Road from where I walked to Queens Road to Marks and Spencer to pick up some groceries. Armed with my milk, canned tongue, bread and cream, I arrived at the Porter’s Lodge of Christ Church College ready to attend Evensong at 6.00 pm.

Evensong at Christ Church College:

     And so there I was at 6.05 pm when Evensong began (Oxford follows some peculiar tradition which dictates that it begin everything 5 minutes after Greenwich Mean Time—don’t even ask!). This time, the entire choir was in attendance including the little choristers. I realize increasingly how multi-cultural and multi-racial the UK has become when I see black and brown faces among the choir—one never ever saw this sort of mixture thirty years ago! It certainly bodes well for diversity.

    The service was lovely, the setting spiritual, the attendees deeply involved. But by 7.00 pm, when it ended, I was tired and kept thinking of going home to a nice hot meal and some relaxing telly—for that’s my favorite way to unwind.

   On the bus, I arrived home, 15 minutes later, served myself some of the Lamb Jalfrezi that I had cooked two days ago and ate it with toasted bread with brownies and ice-cream for dessert. I felt like a million dollars at the end of a most enlightening day.

     Until tomorrow, cheerio…   

Being an Oxonian All Over Again!

Thursday, August 1, 2013

Oxford

The heat in Oxford today was expected to reach record levels. Tony, who is a passionate walker (yes, there really is such a thing in the UK) and who recently walked Coast to Coast—all 200 miles across the UK—suggested a walk up Boar’s Hill before the sun became oppressive. 
            We had breakfast—Sue’s homemade multi-grain bread with elderflower jam (from Fortnum’s—my gift to them), muesli with yoghurt and milk and coffee—and then I was off with Tony. 
              Their home in South Oxford, at Grandpont, has a marvelous location. It is two ticks away from their allotments—plots of land that UK Councils rent out to garden-less folks so that they may grow their own veg--and close to a large park with a swimming pool and tennis courts—unbelieveable! We started off by surveying their allotment—they grow raspberries, cabbage, Brussels sprouts, parsley, corn—you name it. It was fantastic. Sue had recently organized a scarecrow contest and there were several including her female one dressed in a skirt! After she picked a few raspberries, I left with Tony for our walk.

Walking Up Boar’s Hill:

            Almost 30 years ago, the Hall Stewart at Exeter College here in Oxford, who became a good friend of mine, Stan Fuller, had driven us (my friend Firdaus and myself) in his car up Boar’s Hill to show us an old stone church containing a memorial plaque to his grandfather who had been killed during the war in Peshawar (in the North West Frontier Province of British India, now in Northern Pakistan). We never did enter the church as it was closed—but we did have a great view of Oxford’s “dreaming spires” from the vantage point from which Matthew Arnold had perceived them when he supposedly wrote “The Scholar Gypsy”. There is a field there called Matthew Arnold’s Field and I had taken a picture perched on it with hair as long as my knees and a pair of jeans and a wide smile. Well, I was keen to take a picture, 30 years later, at the same spot, so it was great fun to climb up the hill with Tony and try to find my younger self at that spot.

            The walk was fabulous—past the lake and over the railways tracks winding on to London, over a stile and across a field in which horses grazed, over a bridge and across another field until we got to a highway (the A 34 going both to “The North” and “The South”) and on to yet another field where we spied a man taking a census of the butterflies in the area—only in England, kids, only in England!  And about 45 minutes later after the sun had climbed rather high and was pouring its heat upon the earth, we arrived at a spot from where you could get reasonably good views of Oxford’s dreaming spires—or, as Tony cynically put it, its dreaming cranes. For Oxford is undergoing a resurgence and there is a great deal of construction activity going on—cranes can be spotted from a long distance.

            We entered the Chilswell Valley (colloquially named The Happy Valley) and sat down for a while to rest on a bench overlooking the downs. It was delightful and it brought to my mind the novel The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry by Rachel Joyce which was shortlisted for the Booker Prize a couple of years ago.  To reach Matthew Arnold’s field would take a walk of another half hour and we had already walked miles by then and needed to get back. Tony suggested he drive me there later in the evening and we started the trek back to Grandpont which took us another hour.

            By 11. 30 am, hot and tired, I sipped on elderflower water and felt deeply revived. Sue suggested I rest for a bit until lunch when she would walk with me into town so that I could visit the Ashmolean. And that seemed like a sensible plan. An hour later, we were sitting down to Tony’s delicious caponata, a tuna salad with celery and apples, olives and ham and potato salad. It was a very nice summer’s lunch indeed and an hour later, Sue and I headed for the Ashmolean.

Revisiting the Ashmolean Museum:

            The Ashmolean Museum is one of the great museums of the world and, being in Oxford, very much a teaching museum. I had last been there four years ago when it was being refurbished—its treasures were then grouped into two galleries so that seeing its highlights was a piece of cake.  

            This time round, I had a chance to peruse the new galleries—all glass and chrome—as well its older sections (which are really after my own heart). Yes, we did see the highlights: the Alfred Jewel is its biggest treasure: the head of a pointer used to read medieval manuscripts, it is made of gold and enamel and has a beast’s head’s worked into it. Incredible craftsmanship for that epoch. What is interesting is that it was found by a worker digging for peat! I also saw the cloak decorated with wampum (small shells used as currency) that belonged to Pocahontas, the wooden doors (carved in India) that belonged to T.E. Lawrence (of Arabia) and the two famous paintings for which the collection is know: The Hunt by Paolo Uccelo and The Forest Fire by Pietro de Cosimo (both of which I have seen several times before). What I saw for the first time is the Lantern belonging to Guy Fawkes—he is supposed to have held it in his hand when he was exposed and arrested for the Gunpowder Plot to blow up Parliament in the late 1600s. I was also fascinated by the Marshall Collection of Porcelain that was bequeathed to the museum and is intact and arranged (according to the terms of the bequest) in exactly the same way as they were when Marshall owned them. The entire Italian Renaissance collection is wonderful and I spent a great deal of time there but then Sue had to leave and I wanted to see the new shop and the new extension (the South Asian section is enormous).  

 

A Walking Tour of my Favorite Parts of Oxford:

            Then began my tour of the places I most closely associate with my graduate student life at Oxford. I exited the Ashmolean and because I am a dedicated fan of the Inspector Morse series, crossed the street and entered the Randolf Hotel (location of many of the episodes). So famous did the Randolf become internationally, that it now has a Morse Bar named for the super sleuth, which, of course, I entered and dallied in. The Randolf was where our friends Peter and Susan Geib had treated my friend Firdaus and me to Afternoon Tea, many many moons ago (while the Inspector Morse series was actually in its infancy in the UK and the first episodes were being shot there) and seeing people having Afternoon Tea through the street-side windows brought back many happy memories for me.

            I crossed St. Giles and The Broad and entered the Covered Market (also scene of Morse episodes and the more recent series called Lewis) and poked around a bit in a vintage shop before exiting and getting to Exeter College. It was open to visitors and I entered its quad where I always feel a sense of homecoming. Pots of geraniums decorated the steps leading to the Dining Hall (which was shut) but the chapel was open, so in I went to feast my eyes on the mosaics, the wonderfully, newly-refurbished interior features including the tapestry of The Adoration of the Magi by Edward Burne-Jones (an alumni) and the choir loft (location of the memorable last scene in “The Daughters of Cain” in the Morse series). I have recently become aware that Exeter College chapel was modeled after Sainte Chapelle in Paris, France—which explains the small pieces of stained glass on the windows (royaume) and the spindly spire reaching into the sky.

            I walked out to the Margary Quadrangle which, believe it or not, was under renovation! In 1987 when I was at Oxford, it was under renovation too!! I spied my room behind the cranes and other construction paraphenelia but did not venture to them. Instead I walked underground to the Saskatchewan Room where I had lectured during the International Graduate Summer School on the invitation of the university’s organizers. That too, brought back happy memories for me.

            I did not linger long in Exeter because, as I had realized earlier, part of the romance of that era in my life, derived from the wonderful company of the friends I had made then (and who have remained friends of mine—Firdaus, Annalisa, Josephine). Exeter always makes me miss them and want to be with them, so I left pretty soon and made a left at Brasenose Lane to arrive at Radcliffe Square where, lo and behold, I found the Radcliff Camera under renovation! I walked around to the quadrangle of the Bodleian Library past loads of American tour groups and saw the famous pendant ceiling of the Divinity School which I love behind the sculpture of Sir Thomas Bodley. I hurried then along the High Street to get to Magdalen College to meet my friends Alexander and Jessica for tea.

Tea by the Thames at Magdalen Bridge:

            One of the perks of having a friend who is a Fellow at Magdalen College is that one gets invited to afternoon tea to a café on the banks of the Thames where you can watch punters and swans sail past on the river as well as red buses on the bridge. It was idyllic and meeting my friend Alex and his girlfriend Jessica there was a truly memorable experience. We settled down to chat and to sip our tea and remember the past years when I had punted down the Thames with my class mates. Alex and Jessica were great company and I enjoyed discussing their current academic projects with them and the research in which they are currently engaged as Art Historians. After a long chat when they had to return to work, I pottered around the vast grounds of Magdalen College to take in its Deer Park and its wonderful perennial gardens, its chapel and its dining hall and its beautiful quadrangle filled with white hydrangeas.

Yet Another Walking Tour:

            I crossed the High to get to the Botanical Garden but, alas, they had closed for the day. It was time then to take on another one of my favorite walking tours of Oxford. And here is how it goes: I crossed the High once again and entered narrow Queens Lane (just to the right of Queens College). All the way down I went past St. Edmund Hall and New College to emerge at Hertford Lane in front of the Bridge of Sighs. The Sheldonian Theater was right in front to me and I managed to do something I had never done in all the years and all the times I have been to Oxford:  I managed to get the guard at the gate to let me peek inside Sir Christopher Wren’s masterpiece to see the interior. And there is was: the tiered stands (scene of another one of the Inspector Morse episodes that featured the great Sir John Gielgud playing the Chancellor of Oxford University). I observed the great ceiling frescoes (done by Richard Streeter, I was informed) and the spectacular organ. And this is why I have never been inside—entrance in restricted to those involved in Graduation ceremonies that take place in the Sheldonian and to classical music concerts which I have never managed to attend. So it was an achievement indeed to be able to see the inside of it--and I was thrilled.

            Across the street, I entered the famous bookstore named Blackwells—a massive and well-established Oxford enterprise. I was headed for one particular part of the store—the underground Norrington Room which occurs in the Guinness Book of World Records as the world’s largest single-room bookstore. It is so large that it goes down in graduated tiers way below Trinity College which lies next door. Indeed it was a fun place to browse in especially after I spied a book written by the Director of NYU in London, Gary Slapper, prominently displayed on its shelves.

            I also discovered from a book at Blackwell’s entitled Oxford, Then and Now, that the view of the dreaming spires could best be taken from the village of Elsfield and instead of going up to Matthew Arnold’s Field, I thought I would ask Sue and Tony if they could go on to Elsfield instead.

            Across the street I went and on to the end of The Broad towards Balliol College from where I walked back to Tony and Sue’s place. I was really tired but it was 7.00 pm and I had told them I would be back to take them for dinner—so without much ado, off we went.      

Dinner at The Victoria Arms on the Thames:

            Yes, we did make a detour to Elsfield because Sue and Tony thought it was right on our way—and no, we did not get to see much of the dreaming spires—just a rather hazy picture appeared but I was quite content with it.

            Were I twenty years younger, it would have been great fun to punt from Oxford on the Thames to the “Vicky Arms” as this famous pub on the banks of the Thames is known locally. As it was, Tony kindly drove us there. It is the scene of many an episode in Inspector Morse—in fact, it is the one in which he grows philosophical about the waning of life with the receding sun in the last episode The Remorseful Day. So I was doubly delighted that we were at this venue to celebrate my stay with a Thank-you dinner for my hosts Sue and Tony who had gone out of their way to make my stay in Oxford both comfortable and memorable. I was so moved by the setting and the lovely drinks (I had a Pimms—because how can you leave Oxford in summer without a Pimms, right?) and the great food. The punters were a-plenty as they rowed in and left, drinks were downed with merriment in a place crowded with jolly patrons. We had the perfect picnic table, right by the water’s edge where ducks swam past as the sun slowly disappeared over the horizon. I chose to eat a cod loin with Parma ham, Tony had the beef and ale pot pie and Sue chose the Fish and Chips and for dessert, we all had ice-cream—salted caramel and chocolate and honeycomb. Yummiiieee! Meanwhile, we discovered that the Vicky Arms is rich in Oxonian history—It appears in the Domesday Book and Charles II is supposed to have supped there while plotting the political Restoration.

            Because all great things must come to an end, we had to eventually tear ourselves away from that bucolic scene and return to reality—but what a meal and what a splendid evening it had been. I know I will not forget it in a long long time.

            It was about 11.00 pm  when we returned home, quite sated indeed, and although Sue and Tony sat up with mugs of tea, I excused myself and fell immediately in bed.

            Until tomorrow, Cheerio!