A spicy mix of Oxford stories from a house once belonging to a city sausage maker.
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.
I was delighted to discover the above recipe for Oxford Sausages from 1883. It is taken from the Victorian Recipe Book ‘Consult Me on How to Cook’, and more recently illustrated by Mollie Picken. The butcher looks a jolly fellow in his bowler hat, and blue stripey apron, garlands of sausages strung around his neck. The ingredients are pretty much the same as specified by the famous Mrs Beaton in her tome of ‘Household Management’ published in 1861 and announced as her ‘ideal sausage’. For this was the heyday of the Oxford Sausage. A time when an Oxford Alderman when asked in a Parliamentary committee whether there was anything manufactured in his city, had answered, “yes, parsons and sausages.”
And it sparked the inspiration to set off around the city with my camera on a chimney pot pilgrimage. A chimney crawl if you like. Choosing one of those cold but clear May days we have had recently, to gaze upwards to check how fine a fare of fancy flues remain today. Chimneys have after all some competition when it comes to our city skyline. What with its spires and towers, grotesques and gargoyles, crenelations and crocketed pinnacles all vying for attention. But I’d like to think they hold their own.
But my eye was quickly drawn to something far from ordinary. For inside two ceiling-high, grey cabinets, internally lit and lined in red gauze, were shelves filled with an amazing array of ornately decorated receptacles; reliquaries as I later learned they are called. That is special showcases (caskets crafted from silver and gold, and made to look like churches, hollow crosses, statues and the like) designed to display the physical remains or objects used by those who have been canonised by the Catholic Church.
I had been invited to join the congregation of the Church of St Michael at the North Gate (SMNG) in an age-old custom called ‘beating the bounds’ or sometimes ‘perambulations’ or ‘going a ganging’. In the days before maps and title deeds, when the parish was the basic unit of taxation and local government, it was important that people knew which parish they lived in and where the boundaries began and ended.
Opposite Meadow Walk on St Aldates, there is a shop where tourists like to buy souvenirs after their visit to Christ Church. It’s appropriately called ‘Alice’s Shop’ as this pretty…
Nestled into a corner on Catte Street across the way from Oxford’s famous ‘Bridge of Sighs’, stands an old red telephone box. It is in a sorry state. The door is locked. The paint peeling. Its contents long since carted away. Most people pass it by without so much as a glance. Occasionally a tourist will stop to take a selfie, for they have read in the guidebooks that this is a monument to British telecommunications history, that the design has iconic status. But for me, standing here looking at its sad empty shell, this cherry-coloured cubicle with its distinctive domed roof brings back memories.
For although there is a hint of rain as we set off early one morning last week, the sky is as blue as the flowers we have ventured out south of Oxford to see. For this is bluebell time. Britain’s favourite flower. And according to Bea, the best place to experience its full beauty is at Bagley Wood. The time of year that the 568 acres of ancient woodland rolls out the blue carpet as if in readiness for a royal arrival.