I’m Still Standing

I’ve been on four different Oxford walking tours now, as they tend to include a tour as part of the education experience. You would think I would have exhausted both the city and my enthusiasm by now, but Oxford always seems to have another story or a different viewpoint to disclose. I wanted my family to get as much storytelling and history as possible, so booked a three hour walking tour. It sounded like a good idea when I booked, but at that time the heat wave was not a factor. 

Today’s guide was an English/history masters student who was clever and entertaining. A very solid base of knowledge was delivered with humour and storytelling. By the end of the morning, we knew not only who built half of Oxford, but also who argued with whom, who rebelled against whom, and which bits had been set on fire. 

The tour took us inside both Trinity and Christchurch Colleges, each with its own personality. Trinity felt like a secret garden, with well kept lawns (keep off the grass!!) and small quadrangles of honey-coloured stone. Christ Church is far grander with a signposted audio tour and doormen in bowler hats. We did exit the Christchurch self guided tour very quickly, due to exhaustion and hunger. 

Oxford architecture is pretty spectacular - every building seems to have a tower or an elaborately carved doorway, usually accompanied by a story involving a bishop, a king or an exceptionally wealthy benefactor. Speaking of doorways, we stopped at the doorway to the pub where Tolkien and CS Lewis used to drink, and coincidentally it was the “cool doorway” my mother and I had photographed on our morning walk. Note the Aslan like door knocker and the Mr Tumnus sides. There is also a black lamppost right outside. 

We spent a surprising amount of time discussing Christopher Wren, who appears to have had a hand in just about everything in England. Just when I think I have escaped him, another guide points to a building and says, “this is by Christopher Wren.”

Our guide had a few tales of the long-running tensions between the university and the townspeople from the town’s inception through the development of the University. Interestingly, in chats to a few Oxford residents on this trip, there is still a clear distinction between the academic community and the non academic community, with a divide that clearly has existed for centuries. 

After some downtime in the aircon, we returned to the Bodleian Library for an evening tour. Our guide led us through the reading rooms, sharing stories of the benefactors and the extraordinary lengths the library goes to in preserving its collection. The oldest part of the library is from the 15th century. There is also a cool underground tunnel connecting two of the library buildings. I love libraries and this library is very special. Now that my course is finished, I no longer have access to the library unless I pay for a tour, a fact that makes me deeply unhappy. That being said, the crowds were gone, the spaces were quiet, and it was lovely to be back in the library. 

A much less stressful day than yesterday. Other than the ridiculous number of Campbell selfies which  I need to keep deleting from my phone, the only real challenges today were the heat and the sheer amount of walking. Oxford’s dreaming spires lose a their romance when viewed through a sheen of perspiration and aches and pains from standing and walking and climbing for several hours. To be fair, being tired from a long day of walking around Oxford is a rather fortunate problem to have. Good health and the ability to wander for hours are things I have largely taken for granted, yet they are gifts that can disappear far more quickly than one expects. Tired feet are a very small price to pay for the health and freedom to keep exploring.

We Can Work it Out

 For our last morning in London, we abandoned the hotel breakfast and headed to my a favourite London breakfast restaurant, 26 Grains in Neal’s Yard. It allowed us a lovely stroll through the quiet morning streets, and provided a delicious breakfast. I had 5 grain porridge with banana, tahini and black sesame.

Our Uber driver had to take a scenic route out of the city due to some roadworks so we said goodbye to London via Buckingham Palace, driving right up to the front and then along the side. The roads were clear and we settled in for the two hour trip. Half way to Oxford, I received an email from PayPal, saying I had a refund of about $2000. The only thing this expensive was the accommodation in Oxford…… Sure enough, a few emails later, I discovered that the air B&B had cancelled due to “operational difficulties”. I had booked and paid at a pretty good rate back in January, so I am deeply suspicious that the operational difficulties involved another, higher paying guest in the apartment. Oxford was booked solid for this week, presumably due to all the families here for graduations, but I did manage to secure hotel rooms, albeit at an eye watering rate. 

Dropping our bags at the hotel, we walked the short distance to my college, Pembroke, to do some much needed laundry. I had checked with them two weeks ago and they said it was completely fine, but the dragon at the gate today said no. She told me that there are children under 16 staying at Pembroke for a conference, so while we are free to go into the college and walk around, apparently doing laundry is a working with children security risk. Further, the children’s conference goes to the end of August (!). A very long conference, particularly for children. We did go in and walk around, sans my suitcase of laundry which remained with the porter lest I sneak into the laundry room for a guerrilla laundering operation. I was fuming. Here’s the Pembroke chapel.

My mother and I hiked the half hour trail to the nearest laundromat while Cam and my Dad went for a beer at the Crown. Hot and sweaty and $48 poorer for one wash and one dry (for real!) I rejoined the group at the hotel for an evening snack on my terrace. The Jericho Cheese shop is just around the corner from the hotel and it was fun to pick options and watch them slice and wrap them up in waxed paper. Mum and Dad had brought a lovely bottle of wine from home and Cam had purchased a new card game, so we chatted and relaxed and laughed and snacked. Dinner was accordingly a light meal, partaken at the Turf Tavern. Tucked down a narrow alleyway and looking every inch its 1400’s origins, the Turf was buzzing on a warm summer evening. We squeezed into a table inside next an old stone wall (under a ceiling requiring Cam to duck when he stood)for a relaxed meal before heading back to the hotel for bed. 

In the end, it was a day of minor disasters and absurdities: cancelled accommodation, fake child protection legislation and the most expensive wash cycle in my life. I’m Somehow none of it really matters . I’m here , in Oxford, with my family, graduating and life is good

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You can go your own way

We have a regular breakfast table at the hotel, complete with one “Queen” chair that my mother and I take turns claiming. Breakfast has become the planning forum for the day. Luckily Cam, who breakfasts later (at his leisure) is perfectly happy to fall in with whatever we have scheduled.

Today we agreed to split up. My mother made for  the Victoria and Albert, and the other three of us headed off to the British Museum. 

The Museum is full of beautiful things and you could never hope to look at everything in one visit, so we focused on the Greek galleries for my Dad, the king of ancient history. Unsurprisingly, he struck up conversations with the museum staff about the collection and couldn’t resist gently baiting them about the controversial ownership of the Elgin marbles. We also spent quite a while in the gift shop. I LOVE museum and gallery shops but happily for my wallet, my suitcases are very full. 

My mother had gone completely dark and was not responding to messages, so the three of us took ourselves off to lunch at Brewdog, a Scottish startup that went spectacularly global and then went broke. Cam and dad happily tasted beer and chatted away. The surprise hit was the Beer Float - a stout collaboration between Brewdog and a Scottish ice cream brand (Mackie’s), served over two scoops of honeycomb ice cream. I was dubious, but it was delicious. I have no idea how they thought of it, but going off the expected path has produced something fantastic. 

We put the approved blazer to good use in the evening, dressing up in our glad rags for dinner at the Reform Club. I wanted everyone to see inside and it didn’t disappoint. Amazingly, they recognised me from last week and looked after us very well, sorting seats in the bar, a table for dinner, and even graciously taking a family photo for us (something frowned upon in club land). Campbell, predictably, took covert selfies throughout the evening, but thankfully didn’t get caught. 

I always travel with the principle that we don’t have to spend every minute together to travel well but my favourite part of the day was converging together as a family again at dinner, where even the blazer was in the right place. 

Common People

I met my parents at breakfast this morning to discover that they had already settled right in. Kamal had been summoned from the front desk to help my dad with the coffee machine, my mother sitting up in bed against the pillows, like a queen. Andrew had walked them down the street to get them started in the right direction for their morning walk. My dad tells me that Kamal had quite as much trouble with the machine as he did, and that Andrew adjusted the route he took them on to walk down a particular street my mother wanted to see. I don’t know Kamal or Andrew yet, but clearly my parents are feeling right at home. I’ve included a photo of the Porcupine pub - the site I collected them from yesterday after the police assist. 

They headed off to the War Rooms after breakfast. I took a little stroll, skirting the rough sleepers at St Martin’s church to listen to the choir practicing inside, and avoiding a crazy ranting man at Seven Dials to explore Neal’s Yard. The streets are quiet in the early morning , a nice change from the chaos that come later on. 

We went full tourist today, regrouping mid morning for the hop on hop off bus. The early part of the tour route showcases a city of domes and carved stonework juxtaposed with curved steel and glass towers. A Christopher Wren church sits in the shadow of a shiny tower and it all works splendidly. We hopped off at St Paul’s, which I have never been to. On Sunday, entry is free rather than $58. Score. There was a church service on, complete with a choir and musicians, so while the areas we could look at were restricted, the soundtrack was magnificent. 

The hop-on hop-off bus is usually a great way to see a city, but the commentary was dreadful - dull, and always a beat late or early, referencing things before we'd reached them or after we'd passed.  The bus turned out to be a better way to get to the tourist attractions than a way to see the city. The stops take forever while hot, sweaty tourists climb on and off asking the driver various navigational questions, and the traffic made the whole thing sloooow. We should have ditched the bus, but our disinterest peaked at the furthest point from our hotel, so we persevered for the full loop. By this time it was 2pm and we were all hungry. We settled on Five Guys -  pleb comfort food, served in an air conditioned space. 

After lunch we walked in the sweltering heat to Sir John Soane’s museum. I’ve been there before a few times but really wanted to show my parents. It’s a fascinating collection, treasures crammed into every corner, nook and cranny. Since this was my third visit, I didn’t need to look at the specifics and spent time thinking about the contrast between modern wealth, which buys space and emptiness, and this older, more atmospheric approach. Minimalism v Atmosphere. 

Our evening moved from aristocratic eccentricity to cheerful chaos at Lina Stores for dinner - a tiny restaurant, downstairs from a deli in Soho. We shared a fantastic Frittura di Verdure: floured and fried zucchini and lemon slices with roast garlic and aioli. So good. We each chose a different pasta, small, perfectly sized servings of house made pasta with delicious sauces. 

Our tourist day today has left me thinking about the coexistence of the ordinary and grandeur: queueing for burgers beneath domes and pediments, a choir singing over the top of the homeless. London is an intriguing mix of the magnificent with the everyday, everyday people with extraordinary backdrop.  

Come together

My parents were due to arrive at the hotel very early this morning, but the transport gods had other ideas in store for them. A late plane, a broken train, a replacement bus and some intrepid decision making left them somewhere between Heathrow and Central London at 11am. At 1 pm they were getting assistance from two police officers while standing outside “the Porcupine”. Luckily my mother took a photo of the moment for posterity. Also the “Derry girls”who helped them in their wanderings.

Pinpointing their location, I collected them for a personal escort to the hotel. It was already mid afternoon and our morning plans were out the window. Once they had showered and changed we revised plans and headed out for a late lunch at the Seven Stars, a pub owned by a friend of their friend. Cam and I sorted lunch and drinks while they had a good old chat with the proprietor, about various mutual acquaintances and places. We walked by the London  School of Economics - could be a future education option for me. 

Dinner options were challenging, as the Pride parade is on in London tonight. The streets are crammed with people in some pretty spectacular outfits - sequins, platform boots, glitter and very fancy wigs. People are spilling out of restaurants and pubs and I wouldn’t want to be a taxi driver trying to drive down the pedestrian filled roads. We scored a walk in at Dishoom, my favourite Indian restaurant. I know my parents are not huge fans of Indian food but I was thinking this might be a hit and it was. We had a delicious meal, albeit with an ambient noise level well above the possibility of any conversation. One of those meals where everyone yells across the table and the other person nods sagely as if they actually heard you. I scored a free dessert to share (4 spoons) as I told them I was celebrating my graduation. Team Starrett has a long history of sourcing free celebration items, so I’m pleased to have honoured the tradition. We emerged back into the streets, London still buzzing at full volume, which was actually quieter than the restaurant. 

We finished the day with a quiet drink in the hotel’s courtyard bar. This was not the smooth, carefully planned first day I had imagined but it didn’t really matter. We are here, together , and tomorrow London awaits. 

Here Comes the Son

I said goodbye to the club and the hundreds of elephants and lugged my bags through London this morning, transferring to a hotel in Covent Garden for the next four days. After a few weeks on my own, I’m ready for the family to arrive. Campbell is the first, arriving  after lunch from his San Francisco/World Cup excursion. 

On the way to the new hotel  I passed an IKEA in a very non-IKEA building. 

My room was ready when I reached the hotel, however it was right on the street, and the (open) blinds are sealed between two panels of glass and don’t move. Despite being in the theatre district, I’m not keen to star in my own solo play for passing pedestrians, so I’ve requested a room change. That leaves me a bit aimless, as my original plan had been to have some chill time in the room. Instead I wandered about, checking out the new location, paying a hefty 7 pounds for a coffee. Photos of items of interest below: collagen protein ice blocks (!), Chinatown lanterns, and a floral display for the ballet. 

It’s funny how,  now that someone else is arriving, my focus has completely shifted into organising mode. With hours, I had sorted dinner bookings, worked out Tube routes and looked at transport costs to Oxford. Clearly this is a role everyone else assumes I will be taking care of too, as Cam collected his bags at Heathrow and the following text conversation occurred: 

We had pre-booked an early dinner at BRAT, a Michelin starred restaurant in Shoreditch recommended by Cam’s chef friends. Side note: I draw no parallels between the name of the restaurant and my favourite middle son. Brat is the traditional Northumbrian word for turbot which is the restaurant's flagship dish. It’s one of the places where cooking over fire is the main game, and the restaurant has a faint smoky smell that made me hungry. We shared a flatbread with wild garlic and spenwood (I had to google it), followed by Jersey beef fillet, smoked potatoes, and wood roasted greens. The service was friendly, the food was excellent, Cam’s a great conversationalist and I must say, my heart was full. 

Outside of the restaurant was an architecture practice, with very cool metal signage on the front, listing the projects of the firm and the relevant years, dating back to the 1100’s! I struggled to photograph it properly due to the sun and the angle, but Cam came to my aid with a few taps so hopefully you can read it. We hustled back to the hotel to change into our Aussie soccer supporter gear (supplied by Cam) and went to the local pub to watch the Australia v Egypt game. We had imagined at least a small pocket of noisy Aussies at the pub but it was a fairly quiet crowd, with only a scattering of people watching the game. Despite the result it was fun to watch the game with Campbell, who provided a running commentary of gameplay and player history for both teams with an astonishing level of detail. It’s been a long day, but a lovely one, shifting focus from my solo adventure into the family chapter.