The City of a Thousand Walking Tours

I remember the last time I went to Oxford I was about to start my sophomore year of high school. It was summer, and the family was taking a day trip. I was struck by how crowded and busy the city seemed compared to Cambridge.

I returned last weekend, really for lack of anything else. I considered Liverpool for my free weekend, but Oxford seemed just as good. I traveled with another girl from the group, just for the security of another body. We left London from Paddington Station, and got to Oxford mid-morning. The plan was to drop out bags at the hostel, and then find out if I could make it into the C.S. Lewis-J.R.R. Tolkien walking tour. Thus began the weekend of walking tours.

Now, I am a fan of the aforementioned authors. I’m reasonably interested in seeing the places they worked. I expected with the recent release of film versions of “Lord of the Rings” and “Narnia” that this may be a fairly full tour. My ticket brought it to roughly ¾ capacity. Well, that’s fine; it’s early in the season! We arrived during exams and graduation! So off on our little tour.

Later that evening friend and I decided on the Ghost Tour. This was packed with people; ghost tours tend to be very well attended in my experience of tours, and this guy was really good. Not much to say about that, other than after the tour we ended up at the opening of the new Jamie Oliver Italian restaurant. Excellent experience and good food, although I normally shy away from celebrity chef places.

Now, the next day, which was the last day (brief excursion you see), friend wandered off to a Castle; I decided to skip the childhood home of Winston Churchill in favor of the “Inspector Morse” tour.

I am not particularly fond of Morse. There’s only one episode I really liked, and I tend to leave the room when the DVD sets come out. Imagine my surprise when I discovered the assembled horde of tourists waiting for the Morse tour. So many, in fact, that two sweet old ladies needed to be summoned from the Tourist Office to handle the group. We were split into two groups just under twenty each. I never imagined the popularity for the old detective; there were English, Scots, and Americans in my group, and although there was a trend towards a certain age, there were a few of us young’uns to shake things up.

And so I returned from Oxford, pausing briefly to see the Dodo. I realize this doesn’t sound terribly exciting. I really think I just walked for two days looking at the same buildings and hearing a different story about each one. But it’s nice to get away from London for awhile, even if the street were lined with glitter and other signs of celebration for the end of exams.

Fate and Fashion

I am a great believer in providence; last week in Salisbury I wandered into Boots for a bit of cosmetic shopping. I walked out with a coupon for half-price sunglasses. Yesterday, my sunglasses broke.

I should explain these sunglasses; I found them in the mall one August day nearly three years ago while out with a friend. She and I picked up some cheap, heavily $6 sunglasses. They were simple, black plastic frames with cherry details. For the first time, I became attached to sunglasses. I’ve never been able to hold onto glasses before, but something about this pair stuck with me. I used to get upset if I couldn’t find this pair and had to resort to the magic bin of half-broken glasses in the house.

I noticed the break on the right frame a year ago. It was just a small fissure, then a chink, and then, yesterday, I removed my glasses from my head where they had been serving the usual role of “hair-band”. Imagine my surprise at the new-found flexibility of my plastic frames. And then the lens popped out.

Being in London, I would have thought this would be fine; sun doesn’t exist here, right? Unfortunately we’re in the middle of a heat wave. I know this because the Tube announcements in the morning inform commuters that they should all be carrying around bottled water to keep hydrated. I always trust my public transport systems.

Luckily, I have this coupon- half price on any pair (excepting Ray-Bans). So I wander into the local Boots after visiting the Guardian with the group, find the glasses, pick up a pair, try them on, and think “well, maybe…” And then the price tag: £30. The mind boggles. I look at other price tags: 20, 30, 39, 43, and 50 quid. The numbers astound me, and even with the coupon the exchange rate makes me cringe. Then I stumble on the magic pair: £5. They’re the cheapest available pair. Maybe not the best shape for my face, maybe not the best thing ever, but they are the new sunglasses. I’ll have to toss the old ones, but at least tomorrow when I go to Bath, I won’t be blinded by the blazing English sun. Except the heat wave is ending soon, so I may end up blocking out the English rain.

One City, So Much to Say

It’s nearing the end of my second week in London, and my third in Great Britain. I’ve decided on a peaceful night in as I have to be up and out early for a foray to Oxford. The good news is that the Inspector Morse tour runs pretty near to hourly, so I don’t need advance tickets.

I’ve been busy to say the least. Every morning class at nine, ending at one; lunch break, then afternoon session at three; more often than not I’ve been at the theatre or some other evening event. I don’t know anytime when I’ve been busier; I must admit it’s rather exciting to live a life where I spend my days jaunting through museums and chatting with authors, and then the evening at book launches and the theatre. If it weren’t for the exchange rate I could get quite accustomed to this life. I have a little flat in Islington, and I have begun to adore public transport. As much as I miss my car at home, I like knowing that I’m never too far from shopping, entertainment, and parks. I’m a short train ride from most of the country, and it’s quite a lot of country to see.

This week I went to see “Pygmalion” at the Old Vic, starring Tim Piggott-Smith. I may have finally gotten over the trauma induced by “Jewel in the Crown”. Last night was Regent’s Park for “Twelfth Night”. That really is a fun little play, and one of the better shows this trip. Part of this program includes a focus on Shakespeare’s plays, which is why we saw 12^th, and “Midsummer” last week. Still have a “King Lear” to come. I have never been so, well, bored by Shakespeare. I didn’t much like certain aspects of “Midsummer”, “12^th” was good enough to entertain and I’m not thrilled by the prospect of four hours standing at the Globe for “Lear” (“Midsummer” was three hours as a groundling. My knees did not function for the hour following the show). Actually, I’m most interested in wandering off to the National Theatre one night to catch “Revenger’s Tragedy”. I rather enjoy the idea of seeing something contemporary to Shakespeare, but slightly less familiar. And it’s the cheapest ticket that involves real seats.

I’m rather excited about taking this weekend. I spent the day wandering the city until my tired feet demanded I continue my exploration of the BBC. I’ll get out to a quieter city, have a few good photo ops, and come home Saturday evening for some grocery shopping (maybe), and spend Sunday at museums and finally some theatre on my own terms. Perhaps the best bit of London is knowing that the majority of the museums are free. Hours of free entertainment in a city that lets Americans hemorrhage money.