Episodes of Inspector Lewis have resumed. It is easily my favorite series on Masterpiece MYSTERY!, second only to its predecessor, Inspector Morse. Both take place in Oxford and I usually have to watch each episode at least twice: once to see how much of the landscape I can recognize, and again to actually listen to the dialogue and follow the mystery they're trying to solve. And with each viewing, I am always reminded that there are few things I've enjoyed more than my journeys to Oxford over the years, and never moreso than during Trinity Term in June.
Oxford has many faces... town, gown, and everything in between. But for me, visiting friends during the month of June in the colleges where they teach or study has always been a halcyon time of outdoor receptions and sunny afternoon garden parties on picture-book college greens, with men in their summer whites and enough hats and gloves to open a milliner's shop.
Long linen-draped tables are spread prettily with plates of lemon cakes and cress sandwiches and bottomless bowls of strawberries, while college 'scouts' stand at the ready to pour out cups of strong tea or glass after glass of sparkling wine.
When I look back over my photograph albums or thumb through my journals, myriad images come to mind, each one populated with interesting people, unique experiences, evocative scents, and comforting sounds.
 |
| Cherwell and St. Hilda's |
Lazy picnics on the grassy banks of the River Cherwell with a distant view of Merton tower and St Hilda's cricket hut, watching the occasional punt slip past, or fishing errant cricket balls out of the river. Learning a valuable lesson about British "fair play" and dutifully
calling out a restrained "Well done" when either team scored...
 |
| New College Gardens |
Early morning walks through manicured college gardens boasting endless beds of lavender, lilies, peonies, and some of the most heart-breaking roses I have ever seen. And I thought I knew what a flower looked like...
 |
| Manchester Old Door |
Rainy days investigating the gracious architecture of some of the University's forty colleges, stooping to enter crumbling archways, roaming down graveled cloisters, feeling as though the centuries were melting away around me as I made my way...
 |
| Port Meadow |
Quiet
afternoons lying amid the "cow parsley" (Queen Anne's Lace) and
"kingcups" (buttercups) at Port Meadow, leafing through a 50p copy of
Hardy's Under the Greenwood Tree as huge bumbles buzzed dreamily overhead and
tiny birds filled the nearby foliage with song...
 |
| Longwall Street |
Cycling
about the city (in a skirt, of course) to Lady Margaret's Hall or the
University Parks, doing my best to master the fine art of British traffic
patterns, round-abouts, and cobbled alleyways with minimal confrontations...
 |
| St. Mary Magdalen |
Walking
down St Giles street on Tuesday evenings to sit by the low stone wall of St.
Mary's churchyard and listen as the change-ringers toil in her bell tower...
 |
| Eagle and Child * |
Cheerful
evenings in low-ceilinged, timeless pubs with names like The Lamb & Flag, The Turf or The Eagle & Child—a favorite haunt of
Tolkien and C.S. Lewis. And oh, the
discussions we'd have over our pints of bitter and cider. Like taking one's mind
for a walk...
 |
| Ch. Ch. cathedral * |
Kneeling during Sunday services, enveloping
my senses in the monastic intimacy of Pusey House, the ritual of
Magdalen Chapel, or the pageantry of Christ Church
Cathedral where anthems and incense soared heavenward...
 |
| Holywell Music Room * |
Enjoying
Sunday musicales in the Handelian Holywell Music Room, Mozart and
Brahms in the rotund Sheldonian Theatre, or tea-dances at the Oxford Town Hall
with its ceiling like an overturned Wedgewood bowl. And then strolling to The
Kings Arms for coffee and biscuits...
 |
| Covered Market Bookstall * |
Poking
about in little bookshops and coming away with 19th c. leather-bound volumes of
Browning, Scott, Shelley and Tennyson, curious about the owners whose fingers
once leafed through the gilt-edged pages before surrendering them to
second-hand stalls...
 |
| New College Cloister * |
Sitting on long garden benches in the
twilight for an open-air production of Measure for Measure as the medieval
cloister of New College casts deep shadows across the makeshift stage and steam
rises from the players' mouths in the chilly air...
 |
| Worcester College Woodland * |
Watching
A Midsummer Night's Dream come to life in the woodland of Worcester College, as
faëries romp from tree to tree, skirting the lake in their diaphanous finery...
 |
| Covered Market * |
Buying
flowers, sweets or the occasional "take-away" lunch at the Covered
Market with its quaint stalls and stone floor, marvelling at the choice of game
and produce, and feeling a certain kinship with the local housewives as we form
our polite "queues"....
 |
| Punt Landing |
Dreamy
Sunday afternoon punting expeditions, our tiny craft gliding lazily downriver,
filled to overflowing with wine and cheese and biscuits, the view of the
riverbank like a child's faëry story, as tiny eyes peered at us from tree-root
hideaways, shyly marking our progress...
 |
| Holywell Street - Tuck Shop |
"Afternoon
tea" in a variety of colorful shops: some a flowery page from a seed
catalogue; others a sunlit haven of mahogany and antique doilies; and sometimes
simply grabbing a packaged sweet from the local take-away...
 |
| Arlosh Hall* |
Formal
college suppers that begin with sherry in the commons room and ended with port
and Madeira in the library. Shuffling in procession to polished tables whilst
faculty and students robed in academic regalia filled the cavernous Hall with
happy chatter. Settling down to innumerable courses accompanied by a parade of
crystal, silver, and damask, our elaborate supper consumed under the watchful
gaze of previous Chancellors whose portraits range the
walls...
 |
| Skyline from St. Mary's Tower walkway |
Aimless Sunday morning strolls surrounded by the sweet cacophony of tower bells that
never seem to stop ringing until every last soul has been saved...
 |
| Ch. Ch. meadows |
Lazy
rambles down Longwall Street to Rose's Lane, and then following the river
around Christ Church meadows, where cows gently graze, college towers and
steeples rise over the trees like sentinels. Easy to imagine a shy math tutor
sitting by the river with the Dean's little daughter, regaling her with tales
of dormice, harried rabbits, Mad Hatters and unreasonable Queens...
 |
| Oxford Canal |
Making my
way down the Oxford canal towpath, exchanging cheery greetings with houseboat
owners and admiring the plants that line the elfin rooftops of their brightly
colored homes...
Most flock to London on their maiden
journey to England. By choice, and luck, my first glimpse of Great Britain was
Oxford. (London came much later, and only in small doses.) Admittedly there are
no Jewels in Oxford, Crown or otherwise, unless you count the Alfred Jewel in
the Ashmoleon. There are no bloody infamous Towers, although there are
dreamy college spires rising above the River Cherwell in the mist. There are no
well-known Bridges, with the possible exception of the hectic span that brings
you past Magdalen College or the exquisitely sad-looking walkway built to
connect two ancient Hertford College buildings. (It is aptly called The Bridge
of Sighs by locals.)
 |
| Bridge of Sighs* |
But what there is in Oxford is history,
beauty, refinement, youth, nature, elegance, intellect, and all manner of
wonderful things to do and see. She is an ephemeral town peopled by an
array of interesting characters, and so very reminiscent of one of my favorite
Tennyson quotes:
'The city is built to music', says Merlin,
'therefore never built at all,
and therefore built for ever'.
(* BTA photos - all others by Haworth)
