A spicy mix of Oxford stories from a house once belonging to a city sausage maker.
For it is rumoured that within one of its most prized stained glass windows, created by the Pre-Raphaelite artist Edward Burne-Jones and dedicated to St Frideswide the patron saint of Oxford, is secreted a modern lavatory. I want to see this for myself.
I had scrawled the word mulberries across the pages of my calendar for the first week of August. It was to remind me that this was the short window of…
This Friday The Goldfish Bowl on Magdalen Road closes the doors into its watery world of fantastic aquatic creatures for the last time. An institution that has thrilled generations of…
I am standing at the top of a ladder in the garden of a house in Beaumont Buildings, a quiet street of pretty, terraced townhouses hidden away just north of Oxford’s central bus station. Built in 1826 – there’s a date stone set into its chequerboarded brick frontage – this was part of the new residential development that included St John Street, Beaumont Street and parts of Gloucester Green to help alleviate the surge in the city’s population in the early years of the 19th century. But I was here to look at something a lot older.
In the summer of 1847, Frank Buckland attended a party held by the British Association for the Advancement of Science at Oxford’s Botanic Garden, a stone’s throw from where he…
On one of those blisteringly hot days we have had recently when the summer air is suffused with heat, I head downstream along the river from Folly Bridge in search of a secluded watery spot to cool down. I am not normally a wild swimmer, but I’d been tipped off by a kind reader that such a place was to be found this way, a couple of miles along the towpath. Through clouds of meadowsweet mixed with cornflowers and purple knapweed, past Iffley Lock, and under Kennington Railway Bridge. An eyot called Rose Island – on which stands a lovely privately owned residence, accessible only by foot over a narrow, wooden, arched bridge.
And so it is that many years later I find myself cycling up Headington hill to see what has become of the old place. Besides I’d long wanted to learn something of the history of an area that had for centuries supplied the stone and later bricks to build much of the city below – it’s not called Quarry for nothing.
Benches do that to people. They are meeting points, places to come together, to converse, to commune. They serve as special seats to rest and remember.
New College has got to be one of my favourite Oxford colleges. It’s not actually new. For it was founded in 1379 by William Wykeham, Bishop of Winchester, a pile of…
Tugs and tankers, paddle steamers and powerboats, sailboats and skiffs, barges and battleships – they have all graced these waters. Smaller versions of the real thing, naturally. Some built to race (yachts and speedboats), others replica scale models lovingly constructed over many years in a back room or attic. Today Terry has brought his beautifully crafted classic steam launch Edwina, a copy of an elegant Edwardian day boat that once upon a time might have been employed to host summer picnics or as private viewing for sporting events on the river. Every so often a mischievous smile creeps over Terry’s face and he fiddles with whatever it is on his remote control that sends a jet of steam shooting from the central funnel. ‘Toot, Toot.’ I can honestly say that is the sound it makes. Provoking a joyous reaction. And for a moment we are all children again.