Oxford: Need for Tweed

Ello Ello,

Fancy that, you think, he's not dead after all... Yes, I know, I've done a less-than-stellar job keeping up my end of the communication bargain lately. So I come to make amends! In my defense, I have been quite busy writing papers, taking long, British strolls from town to town, giving tours at Bath Abbey, battling Gettysburg College Res Life, and trying to get my courses for next year all set. Oh, and did I mention that I'm in Oxford. Yes...I suppose that is a necessary detail. I arrived on Saturday last, and will be here until this Friday, at which time I will pack up, head back to Bath, and get ready to depart for my mid-semester break in France.

I'm staying at University College, which is the oldest college at Oxford University (picture Oxford University as the United States, and each college within the university as a separate state--that's the easiest way to look at it). It was established in the 13th century and is still going strong today. Oxford, on the whole, is a gorgeous city: a must-see if one ever travels to the UK. It is referred to as "The City of Dreaming Spires," and if you do a Google image search of the city, you'll understand why. The architecture is old and grandiose, the food is amazing (if pricey), and I feel steeped in history when I walk out of my room in the morning. This is something that one simply cannot feel anywhere in the United States. Here, history stretches back on a far larger plane. Great men at Oxford taught the next generation of great men, and on and on in a similar manner since the High Middle Ages. Yesterday, I had a pint in the pub where C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkein frequently shared ideas for their writing. Today, I was given a tour by a man who had once fined Bill Clinton for an overdue library book when they were both students here at University College in the 60's. Robert Hooke discovered cells right across the quad from where I sleep every night. This is no normal place. It is a place of great academic reverence and rigor (in the good way, not the stiff, dead way), and I feel both small and very comfortable within its walls.

One nifty little excursion that my programme made available for us was a punting trip on the Thames. As I refrain from making jokes about kicking small people long distances, I shall explain that a punt is a small, flat-bottomed boat that is very similar to Venice's gondolas. It is propelled by a long pole that is both pushed against the bottom to move the craft, and used as a rudder to steer it. The technique takes a bit of getting used to (especially in moving water), but I managed to catch on quickly. I dressed up in some classy British clothing for the event in order to get a good photo op for all of you back home.


This is the only picture I've managed to wrangle from a friend, since I left my camera cord back in Bath, so you'll have to wait a couple of days until I can get the rest of them uploaded to my flickr account.

Also, if you have razor-sharp vision, you may just be able to make out one of the other things that has been keeping me busy recently: growing a beard! (At this point, ladies everywhere shed a mournful tear, men wish to pat me on the back, and my uncle Joe knows that it will never be anywhere NEAR as good as his) Yes, it is a fine looking, fuzzy thing. I'm growing it in anticipation of not being able to shave while in France, being confined only to a backpack for 6 days of travel. I'd rather have the beard than look like a bum the entire time. But not to worry, I promise to shave it off before I return home (unless it grows on me, which it already seems to be doing...). You knew that I couldn't resist doing something nifty with my facial hair while I have no one in particular to impress. Boys will be boys, you know.

As you can see from the punting picture, I've managed to pick myself up a messenger cap for pretty cheap, and I'm really looking high and low for a nice tweed jacket to go with it. Alas, it seems like only the British chaps with short arms bring their old coats to the thrift shops I've been looking in. So if any of you know a good place to go for such a thing either in Bath or Oxford, please give me a heads-up. I've got the need: the need for tweed.

Toodles for now-

The Wandering Wordsmith