Oxford

Saturday was Oxford Day. Before catching my early afternoon train over, I stopped outside the House of Parliament to play London tourist for a bit. I don't think it's possible to take a bad picture of this building. Here are a few I took:


After Parliament, just an hour's train ride took me to Oxford; home of Oxford University (duh) and the friendship of C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien.

I didn't really have a set schedule for Oxford. It's smallish, so I really just wandered around, taking pictures of fantastically old buildings and ended up stumbling into most of the main sights anyway.

This ox statue was the first thing I saw when I walked out of the train station.

Between the train station and the center of town, there's a small river with a trail along it that sort of winds through very English woodsy-ness. I had time, so I followed it for a ways, and discovered a community of nomads living on long, picturesque boats parked along the bank.

Bridge along the river.

Part of the Bodleian Library of Oxford University.

The Bodleian Library's iconic dome. They seems to be following an Italian theme. There was an Oxford Bridge of Sighs right down the street from this "duomo."

Most of the Oxford University campus was closed to the public that day, but I was able to sneak back into the students only sections to explore the dorms (hidden by ancient stone walls) and this pretty garden/quad area.

I camped out in this quad-like meadow for a while; snoozing and studying French and pretending I belonged there. Not a bad way to spend an afternoon in England.

Leaving the grassy area. So England-beautiful.

After cruising the university, I stopped for tea at a local shop (possible called The Rose?), frequented by well dressed 20 somethings and even more well dressed 50 somethings. Best tea of my life.

More Oxford perfection. My favorite part is that the guy running on the left matches the house...

The Botanical Gardens were closed, but a side gate was open to the rose garden so a browsed through it as I wandered around.

Ramdonly glorious sights like these are what I love about taking the time to simply wander. This was up a random back alley!

After a few hours of exploring, I stopped at pub/restaurant The Metre for a light dinner of appetizers and wine. As I sat there, I wrote the following rather silly pondering:

Tolkien used to live in Oxford. I wonder how often he sat as I sit, wine in one hand, pen in the other? I wonder how many greats have also sat as I sit now? And how many of those single, contemplative diners went on to rule their worlds and how many faded into the turning pages of history to be forgotten next to the exploits of greater beings? And which will I be? How are the pages of my history to be recorded? In bold, italicized lettering, splashed gloriously across the page? Or a mere footnote, in tiny font at the bottom, noted by a barely identifiable asterisk?

On the way back to the train station, I passed by Oxford Castle. It was closed, but I hopped the fence and climbed the castle mound for a quaint view of Oxford at night. Then it was back to the train, and back to Kings Cross just before midnight.