Wandering around Oxford

Unrested after our night of weather related disaster updates, we set off to wander around Oxford and be at least a little edumacated. Or illuminated, or something. Karin’s magic had failed to work today, and it was drizzling and damp. The objectives were to go to see the Bodleian Library, the dining hall at Christ college, and maybe get to Blackwells.
Wandered over to the Bodlean and took the tour. From a nice American kid from California, which was a bit of a comeuppance. The quad itself was wonderful, and the library’s painted ceiling marvelous. I suppose I have been a little spoiled by the library where I went to college, which while not being close to as old, had a similar appearance. But the ceiling was amazing.
Also funny were the tales of rich people being begged for donations, even though this was 400 years ago. The telephone solicitor has found their progenitor; they are merely the current incarnation of an ancient if not honourable or even reputable profession.
Anyhow, through the pervasive drizzle, and some really clingy yellow mud to Christ College. But we were to early to see the dining hall, so I took Karin down some terribly muddy tracks to the Oxford botanical gardens, which I knew she would like, and where I might find a seat out of the wet, I hoped.
She did enjoy it, and I parked myself under a nice tree and had a pleasant sit down. Karin found some dreadfully important piece of ground cover, which was the cause of much rejoicing and texting. It looked like a reddish leafy thing to me, but what do I know.
Headed off afterward to walk though Magdalen College to admire the cloister, and the chapel, where the choir is truly beautiful. Interestingly, they had a place where one could light a candle and say a prayer which I thought was a catholic only sort of thing, but there it was, large as life, so who knew?


Also during our stroll through Magdalen I realised what was the source of the low level of intellectual discomfort I was feeling; I am used to buildings like this, but in grey granite. To see them in yellow sandstone is disturbing to me on some visceral level. Probably I believe them not to be grim enough, and too cheerful, and therefore threatening in some manner that will cost
me some immense amount of money with a therapist to figure out.
In any case, we made our way to Christ and went and saw the dining hall, which is very nice indeed, and full of portraits of luminaries and another marvelous (unpainted this time) ceiling. Clearly in Oxon one is expected to spend a significant portion of ones time looking upward. No pulpit though, so where does me say grace from?
Then on to Christ Cathedral, which was similarly beautiful, we did our tourist bit then, became horribly turned around and had to be rescued by a nice young man, especially stationed there for the use of hapless Americans and such.
Time running short, we had to grab some finger food, forgo Blackwells and bring our damp selves and our newly purchased luggage to the railway station for the return to London.
Rail travel had its usual effect on Karin and her eyes were closed forty seconds after the train started to roll. Very pleasant trip all the same.
On returning to London, our hosts took us to the local ( or one of the local) pubs, which appeared to be owned and run entirely by New Zealanders for another great pub meal. Clearly the days of the ham sandwich where the ham was soggy and the bread stiff are behind us. Or at the very least can be avoided.
Not entirely sure what all this eating and drinking is going to do for my exercise regime. I have the creeping suspicion my instructor is going to make me suffer for my sins. casts dubious look in the direction of Reneé I wonder is she susceptible to bribes….