Two year anniversary

Bring out the mustard, dish up the mayonnaise, keep ketchup at the ready. For today I am both astonished and delighted to be celebrating the second anniversary of The Oxford Sausage. Publishing a weekly Oxford Sausage story for two years makes for over one hundred of the things. Several strings I’d say and enough I’d hope to make the party go with a bang. You are all invited.

Promising to post every week may at first have seemed like a reckless enterprise. And still when I sit down to write I worry that the words will flow well enough to give justice to the subject matter. But I am happy in the process of the work. 

For I have always loved a good chat, to engage in conversation, and the Oxford Sausage has given me the opportunity to talk to more of the city’s residents than I could have ever thought possible. From the 92 year old model aircraft free flyer on Port Meadow, to the hobbyist who builds replica fairground rides inspired by his time working at St Giles Fair; from the fish and chip shop photographer who snaps portraits of his customers in the time it takes to fry a piece of crispy cod, to the Syrian cook who has turned a small Victorian cabbie’s shelter into a thriving falafel food destination. I have met with the ladies who created Flower Lane, transforming an unloved alleyway in East Oxford into a flower filled sanctuary, and those who put aside every Wednesday, year in year out to help embroider the gowns and vestments worn by the clergy at Christ Church Cathedral. And so many more. A wonderful, varied mix of fillings for those sausage casings. Oxonians are an interesting lot. And generous in sharing their life experiences and ideas for possible future adventures.

Cycling, taking the bus, but mostly walking I find is the best way to get to know the city. Sometimes I will follow a once well-trodden path, like that of the 19th century artist William Turner of Oxford (not to be confused with his more famous namesake JMW Turner) who would often stroll along the canal to his uncle’s house in Shipton on Cherwell. Going further back to the late 1600’s I followed in the footsteps of Josiah Pullen who took the same journey every day from his room in Magdalen Hall, (at that time confusingly the neighbour of Magdalen College though not the same establishment) over the bridge and up Headington Hill, to a spot where he planted an elm tree, sadly long gone, but now marked with a plaque. Once by fortuitous circumstance I happened across a book in a shop in St Aldates by the poet and artist Chiang Yee. It records the places he wandered and people he encountered while he was living in Oxford during the 1940’s. I felt lucky to have discovered these personal musings from a different era.  And fortunate also that I learned through him the art of serendipity – to take things as they come. A sign on the side of a building, a headstone in a local churchyard, graffiti on an ancient stone stairwell. Why are they here? Whose lives do they record? Who placed them here? Found on a curious whim and all worth exploring. Stumbling across the fleeting chequered blooms of our county flower, the snakes head fritillary in Magdalen meadow, and the wind scattered cherry blossom on the Woodstock Road in the spring, the cheerful shouts that accompany the river rowing races in the summer, the joyous notes of church bellringers calling in their congregations; sounds and sights and feelings that take you by surprise, that trip you up, that present themselves unexpectantly as potential topics. 

Readers often ask me if I worry that I will run out of ideas. But there are so many stories still to be told about this remarkable city of ours I know this will never happen. So onwards I will go. 

First however I am taking a summer break. For there’s an allotment that needs attention, jam to make, friends to catch up with. I may even take a short holiday. You’ll still receive your Sunday Sausage, for I’m taking the opportunity during this time away to revisit some of my favourite sausage posts from this year. A chance to catch up perhaps with some that you have missed.  

And come September I will be back on the beat. I do hope you will continue to keep me company.

I can’t wait.