Oxford

And so we made it to Oxford, and returned in one piece - indeed, we even managed to enjoy ourselves. The tourist season has not started yet, and it was possible to walk along the street without being pushed off into oncoming traffic. The city outdid herself, like a neglectful friend making amends for bad behaviour. She looks her best around this time of year I think, when the sky is almost painfully blue, and the sun bounces off the creamy white stonework of the University.

Ruskin College from the side

You could take several thousand photos of it, and still have only scratched the surface. This is a little present for Elizabeth in Marrakesh, as I believe she once attended the Ruskin School of Drawing.

Ruskin College seen from the High

Oxford was very - Oxford.




All it needed was a body and a rather grumpy white-haired Detective charging up the High, in a vintage Jaguar.

Magdalen College side entrance

Andy must be mellowing, as for the first time that I can remember, he not only noticed that noticed that there are an awful lot of gargoyles around (bearing in mind we have lived in this area since 1994)...

Gargoyles on Magdalen College

...but for the first time ever I persuaded him that visiting the Botanical Gardens would be a fun thing to do. And so it was.
We had a splendid time marvelling at gi-normous ferns, gawping at bulbously sinister carniverous plants, ogling outsized cacti and getting brushed up by impertinent creepers.




I have always had a fondness for the banana tree, and hoped it was still here, as I last saw it back in 1990 when I was a foundation art student. It had moved, I think, but it - or a descendant - was still thriving.

I took more photos than I care to inflict on the unwary reader, so HERE is the entire set of our explorings in the glasshouses. For those of you who like plants and the like.



I even indulged in a little filmy-thing; it has noise but there is not much to hear above the hush of the moist greenery...

So well done Oxford, we are learning to love you again, and although we didn't make it to the Ashmolean, there will be another time. Soon.

For my dear friend Tara - I though of you when I was there, and how much you would have loved it - for you, on your birthday - (as my little posted gift is as ever, sent late)...

Watch the birdy

We are off on a big expedition to Oxford this week; we haven't had a day in town for years. It's a bit of a palaver, with our limited rural bus service (which bears no resemblance whatsoever to the Stagecoach advert we saw on TV last week). Although thank God we have one at all (she said, hastily crossing fingers). Like Cindrella - but without the frock - one has to return at a certain time before the Sun goes down, (eg when the last join-up 6 o'clock bus leaves) or fork out for an expensive taxi home. However it can't be avoided: I have frames/mounts to pick up. One has been custom made for Party Food -

- which will be hung (appropriately) in the client's dining room - and smaller ones for forthcoming paintings I have been itching to do. So I'm doing a lot of Moleskine scribbling, as until I actually have the frames and mounts in front of me I can't start planning what size the artworks will be. And I have a 'bread and butter ' job to continue, which I must knuckle down to. Not as much fun as this chap -

Frankly the idea of a day in town scares the bejabers out of me, I might just go and hide in the Ashmolean.

France comes to Oxford

A rare visit to Oxford yesterday...it's not the Oxford it used to be, though admittedly if you are in need of sustenance you are well served, since as soon as any shop closes (usually due to the high rents the council demands) it is replaced by some form of nosh-shop. In fact, in George street, it is hard to find any outlet which is not some kind of eaterie chain. But I digress...this journey, taken by our rural bus service, takes a whole day. Living where we do, with only a couple of basic shops, a Trip to Town demands that you fit in all the errands you've been saving up for months. Starting with the 9.35am bus, (in my best corudory trousers) and changing at Witney, getting off at PC world for essential computer repair stuff, waiting half an hour in the wind for the next Oxford bus, and finally reaching journeys end at lunchtime, where I discovered Broad Street had been taken over by a visiting French market. The bustling air was saturated with savoury whiffs of cured meats. Tempting...



But first things first. An appointment at Bravissimo, where I spent nearly two hours being 'fitted'. Ladies, if you live in the UK, and your front bit feels like you're carrying a small rucksack, I cannot recommend Bravissimo enough. Never mind going to M & S, where you will be severely measured with a cold tape, and sent forth after five minutes - this is An Experience. I knew other people who had been through this initiation, and their accounts have been evangelical...they were right. I have had an epiphany. No tapes, just a cubicle and a nice young lady who surveys you with expertise, and then utters the magical words 'you have a tiny back'. Much later, I emerged a different bust size, with the same shining light in my eyes and a completely new set of 'over-the-shoulder-boulder-holders'. And went forth to inspect the French market. By now my pocket money had run out, so I restrained myself to one wild boar salami. But it was an orgy of deliciousness, and a welcome change from the dour catchpenny atmosphere of the regular Oxford market.















































































After this, a cursory browse round the city center - I always feel I have to make the effort, but get overwhelmed by the cacophony and visual noise. I was also terribly sad to see the closure of yet another old Oxford bookstore closing, no doubt to be replaced by a ubiquitous sandwich bar.

As usual, I fled back to the bus stop, and made a stop-over over in Witney - more errands - before catching the connecting bus back to the peace of the village and arriving home at 6.30pm, wrung out and with a rare headache. Jobs done, and relief at it being over for another few months.