Masterpiece Mystery has really done me a disservice regarding my tourist expectations in Oxford. Did Inspector Morse once solve a crime involving tourists? Did any of Agatha Christie’s characters ever force their way on to a train, holding to their son lest he be dragged into the gap?
Masterpiece Mystery tourist representation: 0
Actual tourist representation on a sunny holiday Saturday: All the tourists
But aside from having to beat our way down the sidewalks, it was a lot of fun. Just standing in such an historical place is a bit chill-inducing.
We left the flat just after 7 AM to walk over and catch the 7:45 train, and we had a bit of a do getting home, having to take three different trains and arriving at the station around 11:15. We made it back to the flat around 11:40 PM. So a bit of an endurance event in itself, especially as I was planning to just hop on the evening train and fall asleep (in lieu of sitting in the cold in Blokefordhamshire for 45 minutes in the middle of the journey).
English trains are not yet my friend. (Although the fact that they exist certainly puts them far in the lead of American trains. Speak not to me of Amtrak.) Our troubles getting home were for a very sad reason – a fatality on the tracks. Puts our own transportation troubles in perspective, no?
But now, on to Oxford! (At this point, if you have no interest in old buildings, plants, and/or ducks, do feel free to leave. Laura Goodwin, making it possible to leave your relative’s vacation slide show since 2022.) There will be, as far as I know, no swimming-related items in this post (so a spoiler, I guess, that none of us feel into the drink while punting).
Who Shot it Best?
It’s time to play our game – did E or I get the best photo? Up first for your consideration…
The Rest of the Day
After the tour, it was another 15-minute walk back if we wanted to do the aforeseen punting, and we did. It was quite tiring, but quite the experience, and I’m glad we didn’t miss it.
I had the perfect plan to catch the candlelit evensong at Magdalen College, right next to the punting, but they had cancelled it for that evening, and we got done with punting too late to see the one at Christ Church. Which I’m sure would have been amazing (and makes me think of Bartlett talking about it on The West Wing), but I was also starving, so not so bummed just to go find dinner.
We ate at The Turf Tavern pub back near where we started the tour. I was glad to get in, both because it meant no delay in finding food for which I was by then desperate, but also that I got to have a drink where Oscar Wilde and so many others have tilted back a pint. Alas, we arrived as they were experiencing a problem with their nitrogen, so instead of a pint of Oxford beer, I paid 5 pound 30 for a sad bottle of Peroni (and another, when it looked like our train home could be a problem 🙂 ). But still, Oscar Wilde! Thomas Hardy! Emma Watson! And my gammon and eggs was very good and very filling, so it all turned out all right. (Hell, they had a bathroom – at that point, that was all I needed to achieve peace and happiness.)
After that, we made our way back to the train station and, eventually, home.