A spicy mix of Oxford stories from a house once belonging to a city sausage maker.
There’s a real physicality to Catherine’s work, all that lifting, and mixing, rolling and cutting alongside the heat of the oven; there’s a dexterity of hand that’s needed and an understanding of the inherent quality and character of the ingredients she is shaping.
Emma Coleman-Jones draws trees. In all seasons. In all weathers. Come blazing heat, bitter cold, rain, snow or high winds she will be out in the elements, sketchbook in hand looking for that serendipitous moment in time and place when something catches her eye.
Oxford is a city of doors. Big doors, tiny doors, doors within doors. There are grand fortified gateways to colleges built to keep the townsfolk out, and plain doors with…
I’m standing in front of the huge window at the east end of Balliol College dining hall. There in prime position, right at the top is a burning wheel. It…
There was, for a while, a time when if you were looking for an interesting place to visit in Oxford you’d be directed to a rather unexpected attraction. For in…
It’s at this time of year, after the clocks have gone back, and the evenings draw closer, that I like to don my coat and scarf and set off for…
On one of those blue skied autumnal days we’ve had recently I get a call from my friend, walking companion and Oxford Sausage nature correspondent, Beatrice Groves to say the…
Today I am venturing a short distance out of town to a place known as Pleasant Land. I don’t as yet know why it is called this. I am just…
Trevor Joseph was three when he moved with his mother to Fourth Avenue, Slade Park, Headington. 64 years later and we are trying to find the location where his house…
A couple of weeks ago I was delighted to be invited into Campion Hall. They’d recently given a fresh lick of paint to their old senior common room, what in…