26 September, 2018

Return to the City of Dreaming Spires

Runs it not here, the track by Childsworth Farm,
Past the high wood, to where the elm-tree crowns
The hill behind whose ridge the sunset flames?
The signal-elm, that looks on Ilsley Downs,
The Vale, the three lone weirs, the youthful Thames?
This winter-eve is warm,
Humid the air! leafless, yet soft as spring,
The tender purple spray on copse and briers!
And that sweet city with her dreaming spires,
She needs not June for beauty's heightening
- "Thyrsis", by Matthew Arnold

The trip from Berwick-upon-Tweed to Oxford would take five and a half or so hours by train.  It was a chance to relax a bit and see some of the countryside.  We were also fortunate enough to catch an earlier train, which made our time in the Berwick station very brief instead of the three hours we were expecting (this timetable was primarily due to having to be out of the cottage early, as well as off the island before the tide came in). 






















The journey would take us back to London, to King's Cross station.  We weren't in the mood to try and find Platform 9 3/4, owing primarily to lugging around our cases, so we made our way directly to Paddington to catch the GWR (Great Western Railway) line to Oxford.



After arriving at Oxford train station, we made our way by foot to our hotel.  Crossing the Hythe Street Bridge is like going back in time, leaving the modern concrete and metal buildings behind as you enter the University district.



Jen's Lily Bloom spinner fell victim to the cobbles of Oxford, which chewed up one of the wheels so badly that her case would barely roll.  This would make subsequent luggage logistics very challenging. 



We stayed at the Eurobar Hotel.  It was... interesting?  I booked it very much at the last minute when we decided to travel down to Oxford after Lindisfarne instead of back to Edinburgh.  I tried to book us in Rewley House (the ContEd home) but never heard back.  Next time, we'll stay there or in the Randolph. 




It was Fresher Week, and we missed the induction ceremony by a scant few hours. I was now a student here, but I was not a young man, and surely felt my years amongst these children.  Still, it felt a bit like a homecoming, though the place is still very new and wondrous.









We had only the one full day to take in as much of the place as we could.  Our main goals were to visit the Natural History Museum and Pitt Rivers exhibit hall, to visit the Bodleian, to eat lemon drizzle at the St. Mary the Virgin Cathedral café, and to pay our respects at the gravesite of J.R.R. Tolkien.  Serendipity would offer an extra surprise, a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

First, the museums.  Pitt Rivers is housed in an extension of the Natural History museum; the latter is the large building below, the former abutting on the right and going out of frame.


The Pitt Rivers exhibit hall.


Very reminiscent of the Scottish National Museum; the beautiful wrought iron and glass work.



The displays in the Pitt Rivers museum are deliberately in keeping with historical display design and typography created by the man himself.  Even the artefact tags were still being handwritten.




















The interior columns of the Natural History Museum were all fashioned from various types of stone quarried from locales within the UK.  Some were quite old, attested to by the aging of  their engraved captioning.




I really didn't do this exhibit justice at all photographically.  This was a beehive, built between two panes of glass inside the museum on a base that could be slowly rotated by hand.  A conduit allowed the hive to communicate with the outside.




More Pitt Rivers, upper level.  We went back and forth between halls as we wandered the floors.













When we arrived at Oxford, we discovered that the Weston extension of the Bodleian was hosting a gallery of Tokien's life, including his original artwork for his stories, his maps, manuscripts, correspondence... no photography, unfortunately.  I can't imagine it would've done it justice anyway.  The exhibition will end on 28 October and its pieces returned to archives, the Tolkien estate, and other lenders, perhaps never to be assembled again.  We did not know this was happening.  Fate or fortune, it was indescribable to be amongst the formative works of the man who influenced our lives so very much. 



The Sheldonian Theatre, designed by Christopher Wren in the Neoclassical style and built in 1664-9. Ho-hum, just another piece of incredible historic architecture. 


The Radcliffe Camera, designed by James Gibbs (also Neoclassical) and built in 1737-49.


Finally, the Church of St. Mary the Virgin and site of one of the best cafés I've ever been to.  Their lemon drizzle is phenomenonally amazingly ridiculously good.  Oh, and we had some lunch too.  Sooo good.










The Covered Market.  There are some nice shops, including fresh meat and veg, but also a lot of tat.



We walked the 6 mile round trip from the University to Wolvercote Cemetery to visit the resting place of one of the most important and influential persons of our lives.  Tolkien taught us that worlds existing solely within the pages of a book can be made all but real, and shareable with others.  We carry a piece of Middle Earth with us, always.





The cemetery had small signs that pointed the way to Tolkien's grave.  It reminded me of the white stones that marked the way to Rivendell in The Hobbit.





We wanted to eat at the Eagle and Child after our hike, but it was very, very busy.  We lunched there with Lee and Vicky on our last visit, so it wasn't as sore a blow.


Instead, we ate at the Red Lion.  It was tasty and the wine was very reasonably priced.




The next day started very early, as we had to catch the train to Reading. From there, we would change to the Paddington line via Hayes & Harlington, where we would disembark and change to the Heathrow line.  Then, the long flight home.  The lack of photography is a product of a frenetic pace of making these exchanges with all of our luggage in tow.  Jen's case had a damaged wheel from the Oxford cobblestones which did not help matters.








Sweeties for those back home.