Oxford, Oxfordshire

They’re not kidding when they call Oxford the city of dreaming spires. Walk past the Bodleian Library, and you’re just about slapped in the face with spires, spires everywhere! It’s overwhelming. It’s basically too beautiful. And the colleges – oh, the colleges!

Against all odds, I arrived on Thursday afternoon. The UK seems to have an epidemic of train delays and breakdowns. (Or maybe it was just the sheer weight of my suitcase that did them in; who knows?) The hostel was reasonably close by. It was also reasonably dodgy. Luckily, the central part of Oxford was but a short walk away, so I dumped my stuff and got out into the streets. They weren’t the nicest looking streets, so I made my way into the Ashmolean Museum and raced around the exhibitions in an effort to see everything before closing time. After they’d finally booted me out, I did what any good book nerd would do and hunted down Tolkein and C.S. Lewis’ favourite pub.

I had fish and chips – and mushy peas! – for dinner. It was fairly decent. I even liked the peas. Slowly but surely, I am learning the ways of the Pom.

The next day was a manic rush to fit in everything I wanted to do in Oxford. At half past eight, I raced out the door and straight to the Bodleian Library, determined to reserve my place on a guided tour. I was the first in line. [I was the only one in the line.] To pass the time before the 10:30am tour, I went to the university church and climbed its tower to take in the views. To sum it up in a word: spires.

This next part is slightly shameful. Shameful but awesome. As I wandered the streets, I realised that it happened to be Oxford College Open Day. The colleges were all closed to visitors to cater for prospective students. So I decided to become a prospective student for the day, and got myself free all-access tours of about five colleges. During the course of the day, I visited the colleges of John Donne, Lewis Carroll, Evelyn Waugh and many others. It was amazing. Alice in Wonderland and His Dark Materials amazing.

I also saw the pub where Bill Clinton smoked but didn’t inhale in his college years, and where Bob Hawke skolled some ridiculous amount of beer in record time.

Eventually it was time for my library tour, so I headed back and got to see really, really old books. Really old. Books that they chain to the shelves. It was all ridiculously pretentious and rather wonderful. The library also acted as the Hogwarts library in the HP films, and the examination room downstairs doubled as the Hogwarts infirmary. Scintillating stuff. Perhaps more excitingly, I got to see the university courtroom where Oscar Wilde was repeatedly berated for failing to repay his student loans.

Afterwards, I headed to the famous Oxford Covered Market, where I found quite a lot of tourist-targeted rip-off material, and an incredibly yummy pie. It arrived on a bed of mash, swimming in gravy. Mmm. British.

I also ate a couple of delicious, delicious chocolate and ginger biscuits from a place that attracted me with its use of Quentin Blake illustrations.

Having sorted out food, I then went and joined a two hour walking tour of the city. Like all the other walking tours I’d done over the past month, it was incredibly interesting and worthwhile. A highlight was peeking into the Christchurch garden where Alice (of Wonderland) used to play.

After that, I dashed off to the Museum of the History of Science (or something equally boring-sounding) to see their intriguing exhibition on eccentricity. It was great! The entire exhibition revolved around the strange obsessions of Oxford professors and graduates. There was one notable fellow who spent his spare time eating as many different animals as he possibly could. One night, when invited to an aristocratic friend’s house for dinner, he was shown a curious piece of shrivelled flesh that he promptly popped in his mouth and swallowed. This turned out to be a family heirloom, the salvaged heart of King Louis the Fourteenth. Whoops.

I spent the early evening wandering back through the Christchurch gardens and finding the section of the River Thames where Lewis Carroll dreamt up his Alice adventures while being rowed on a boat. He was apparently rubbish at all physical activity.

And that was it! I managed to see everything I wanted to see, which was a bit of a miracle. Since arriving at King’s, I’ve had quite a bit of Oxford college envy… but more on that later.