Category: Oxford

As part of an ongoing initiative to expand the parts of Oxford I have explored, I ventured into the Worcester College gardens today. Open to all students between 2:00pm and 5:00pm, they are really worthy of a wander. I plan to revisit the courtyards and waterside paths once spring has begun to assert itself. Trying to frame photos to exclude the ash-gray sky was challenging.

The college is located at the end of the street that runs west from the martyr’s memorial past the Randolf Hotel and the Ashmolean. Altogether, the grounds are very extensive; they also have a pleasing intricacy to them, unlike the open vastness of the Port Meadow, Christ Church Meadow, or the University Parks.

I may well need to add the gardens to my rotation of places to read and wander, once the cold and dampness of these recent weeks begins to recede. Even with the threat of exams and joblessness at the end, I expect that Trinity Term will be a dream – with the thesis safely behind, and Oxford going through its most attractive season.

The light this afternoon and evening was just gorgeous: beginning as the kind of sharp afternoon that contrasts so markedly with the gray days of rain before, then softening with the return of clouds and the approach of sunset. It offered a good chance to head out of Oxford northwards, in the first expedition for the simple purpose of cycling that I can recall having undertaken in many weeks. As the longer, warmer days of spring arrive, I should try to get back into the habit of visiting Woodstock, 13.2km north by northeast of here, through Yarnton. Otherwise, I spent all my time in an area that runs south from our flat to Carfax, sometimes extending eastwards some way along the High Street and Cowley Road: Milan’s Oxford. On this little map, the red line above ‘University of Oxford’ denotes 1km. The blue polygon denotes the zone in which I spend more than 95% of my time.

The most notable thing about this ride was the empty space between towns. During the fading light of the late afternoon, they provided a sense of immensity in one’s surroundings that cannot be attained when there are ugly pinkish-orange streetlights overhead. On the way back, they provided ample demonstration that six volts and 5.2 amps behind a single halogen bulb is hardly sufficient to cut through a rainy English night.

PS. Privately to Maddie and Meaghan: thanks.

Walking around Oxford at night, in the snow, is the first time I have ever felt at all sensible wearing robes. I think it is a combination of the practical concerns of temperature and the suspension of normal rules of operation that always accompanies a Vancouverite after a snowfall.

I have always loved ‘extreme’ weather events, precisely because of the way they allow the subversion of normal modes of operating. Because of what I mean by weather, things like blackouts also count. Anything of a sufficiently super-human magnitude to let us legitimately question the rhythms of normal life tells us a lot about people; personally, the people who respond primarily with annoyance are the same sort who do not like Studio Ghibli films. That is to say, people with no imagination.