Paulclem

Last Saturday I went on a trip to Oxford, and was able to have a good wander around the city. It’s a great place; so full of leafy courtyards, towers and spires that I wanted to photograph every other building. They are all so old and photogenic, it is hard to take a bad photo, though I did manage a few.

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We sat for coffee in the old market house, with its wooden roof, and watched the populace stroll past. It did seem a bit dearer that the usual markets, and the clientele was somewhat different to the usual Saturday afternoon scramble in Coventry. (I know all about that; I’ve got elbow proof ribs).

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We took a walk around the busy streets and sat for a bite to eat by the market cross. It was opposite the grand sounding Randolf Hotel. It was easy to imagine an episode of Inspector Morse taking place there, or an Agatha Christie - all tuxedos and classic cars.

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Some of the buildings were constructed of a yellow sandstone that seemed to have developed a deeper patina with time – a bit like the aged gloss on wood. The one below contrasted with a great looking neighbour which had the vines of a wisteria growing around its doorway. It was so evocative of a gothic classic. Marvellous.

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The streets are a delightful jumble of styles with quite a few street performers and musicians punctuating the floods of shoppers. The timber framed house below is one of a number in the centre. We’ve got a few scattered about Coventry, including a small street of them called Spon Street, but Oxford was clearly able to retain much of its character throughout the war. It was the industrial cities that suffered most under the Blitz, though Hitler did have some crackpot plan in the beginning to crush the British spirit by aiming for cultural targets. I don’t know why he bothered; he could just have organised a football international. Anyway, the streets were full of great views.

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The demographic of the place is interesting too. I live in Coventry – a pleasantly multicultural city of just over 300,000. As a former bastion of the car industry, it has the remnants of the factory workforce within its population – many of them now old and some not particularly well off. So wandering round Coventry you see many older people with those wheeled walking frames, or the mobility scooters buzzing about. It was noticeable then that I saw not one walking frame or mobility scooter in a busy Saturday Oxford. (It’s unclear whether this is because there aren’t many poorer people, or they can’t get about the Oxford streets.) There were also no drunks or tramps apparent.

Instead – being a city of 165,000 – about half the size of Coventry - there were lots of young students wandering about due to it being a university town with two universities. The elderly that appeared looked well to do, and fairly fit. The whole city had a young vibrancy about it, though I doubt that many could afford the prices of the houses there. (The average price of a flat is £239,000).

It is strange that a name evocative of culture, academics, universities and great thinkers of the past is named after a cattle crossing.
Oxford – a fantastic place to visit – just mind the cows.

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