An almost missed bus drew the two of us into Oxford, bleary eyed and recovering from my birthday, celebrated over the previous two days. I’d briefly visited this most famous university town once before, in midwinter last year. I remember being very cold, promising to return, and very little else.

We quickly procured caffeine and, after finding the way to our “Funky” Hostel, checking in and depositing our packs, the wander around Oxford began.

The city centre, old Oxford, is small and easy to navigate. It’s constrained by two rivers, the Thames to the west (called the Isis while it meanders past Oxford) and the Cherwell to the east. A map is available here. The original settlement was established because the Thames could be forded here, so that oxen could cross. Hence Ox-Ford. (Read on …)

I found myself sitting in ‘Oxford’s Oldest Coffee Shop’ clasping a mug of strong coffee closely. The rather nasal voice of a flustered young student, about 20, resonated between my ears as she elaborated on the lack of reading she had done for a certain course to two companions. They nodded intermittently, blank looks on their faces. The caffeine’s effect slowly began to awaken my slumbering brain, the girl’s metal chair legs grated against the floor, she leapt up and hastily shouldered her way though the glass doors, half a dozen books balanced against her chest. “Whether I’ll actually be at the lecture later remains to be seeeen…” Monday morning in Oxford. (Read on …)