Relaxing Saturday in Oxford’s Museums and Visiting Bicester Village

Sep18

Saturday, September 17, 2016

Oxford

I am waking up at 6.30 am now and thinking it is still 4.00 am. The days are closing in on us and it is much darker at 6.30 than it used to be. The weekend, I decided, would be devoted to seeing those bits of Oxford I have not yet had the time to see. Saturday was also for taking things easy—no reason to tear out at the crack of dawn. Subsequently, I watched an episode of Inspector Morse in-between having my breakfast (honey yogurt with muesli and decaff coffee) with the telly on and felt generally relaxed. I love lazing on the couch here with a knitted throw to keep me toasty—this is so much like being at home in Southport, Connecticut. I am truly loving it here.

Finally, after a long chat with my Dad in Bombay and some catching up on my blog (all of which took so much time), I went in for a shower and dressed. By the time I left the house it was 11.00 am. I had a rough idea of where I wanted to go and what I wanted to do…but I was also going to let the whim take me where it would.

The Museum of Oxford at the Town Hall:

So, when I got off the bus at St. Aldate’s and saw a poster outside the Town Hall of Oxford advertising the Museum of Oxford, I decided to pop in there. It was the first time I had ever been there. The Town Hall itself is quite magnificent inside—it has a highly ornamental ceiling with very intricate plasterwork. However, visitors are not allowed to go up there except on a guided tour which is offered just twice a month. Instead, I looked at the two galleries that comprise the museum. It shows how the city has grown since 1066 through maps and has a lot of other memorabilia that puts one in mind of the contribution of this city to the world: the Morris Minor, for instance, was made in Oxford, as was Frank Cooper’s Oxford Orange Marmalade which is still being manufactured. I took a really quick look around and walked out about 20 minutes later.

Down Cornmarket Street and into the Church of St. Michael at North Gate:

Cornmarket was already buzzing by the time I got there and it was all I could do to fight crowds to allow me to enter the Church of St. Michael at North Gate. It is almost a thousand years old and despite many visits to Oxford in the past, I had never been in there. This day was devoted to looking at things I had never seen before. Hence, the detour into this church. Visitors pay a fee to climb the tower and get some nice views of Oxford from the top. I did not feel tempted to do so. Instead, I walked briskly towards the Ashmolean Museum and gave myself up the pleasure of perusing its marvelous collection.

Visiting the Ashmolean Museum:

Arriving at the Ashmolean, I was delighted to find a special exhibit on Rembrandt entitled “Sensations”. It is a series of small and very early oil paintings that depict the five human senses. Many artists, apparently, tried their hands at this theme and because Rembrandt was so unknown when he attempted them, they were dispersed and are only now surfacing to be recognized as part of the series. Only last year, one more turned up. It was found somewhere in the US. The last one, Taste is still missing and might be lost forever—who knows? But in the exhibition were Sight (A Peddlar Selling Eye Glasses), Sound (Three Musicians Singing), Smell (Attempts to Recover a Man who has become unconscious with smelling salts) and Touch (A man’s wars being cleaned and probed by a Quack who causes him deep pain). They are really very evocative of these sensations and I actually felt my knees grow weak at the last one.

Following this viewing, I went in search of the two highlights of the museum—The Hunt by Paolo Uccello that focusses on the vanishing point in art (figures getting smaller as they recede into the distance—one episode of Inspector Lewis has reference to this work) and The Forest Fire by Pietro di Cosimo which presents animals and birds running away in terror from a fire in a forest. They are powerful works most remarkable for their wealth of detail.

Next I wandered through a number of galleries with no focused aim. I spent a lot of time with the china collection for this museum has loads of it. I also returned to its biggest highlight—The Alfred Jewel—which is considered the most important archeological find in the UK. It is a lovely little item in gold and rock crystal that probably adorned the end of a pointer that was used to read medieval manuscripts. It was found purely by chance as peat was being dug out and collected. In the Textile section, I was most taken by a gigantic tapestry that represents Southern England with Oxford and its surroundings in the center and London at the bottom. It is also remarkably accurate, given its age. The Ashmolean is also proud of its ownership of Pocahontas’ cloak and of the tin lantern that Guy Fawkes is said to have carried on the night he hatched the Gunpowder Plot—but as I had seen these items before, I did not go looking for them again.

When I had spent more than an hour at the Ashmolean, I decided to get out and do something else. But then, as I was going on a whim, I saw a bus (S1) at Magdalen Road with a sign saying that it was going to Bicester (pronounced Bister)—so I boarded it and off I went.

Inspecting Bicester Village Outlet Center:

Imagine…when I left my home this morning, I had absolutely no intention of going to see designer outlets. And yet, there I was! It took about half an hour to get to Bicester on the bus that was filled with young Asian kids with extra deep pockets. As I had never been to an outlet center in the UK, it was a good experience. I wondered how they would differ from the ones we are accustomed to in the US. Well, I was about to find out…

There were all the usual British suspects lined up in a row—Burberry (it actually had a line waiting outside to get in), Smythson, Vivienne Westwood, Paul Smith…but also names from the rest of the world’s galaxy of stars: Prada, Kate Spade, Saint Laurent, you name it…I, of course, had no intentions of buying anything, but it was fun to look. What was not fun were the price tags. I had massive sticker shock. Outlets in the US offer far lower prices. There is simply no comparison.

An hour later, I was on the bus again, returning to Oxford. I had some more museums to see before they closed for the day…

Visiting the Parks’ Museums–Natural History and the Pitt Rivers Museum:

The northern part of Oxford is renowned for three things: gorgeous Victorian Gothic mansions (in one of which I had stayed a few years ago as a lodger), the Natural History Museum and the Pitt Rivers Museum. For old times’ sake, I got off the bus at Bevington Road, just past St. Antony’s College, where I cut across to Norham Gardens to see my former home. I have such happy memories of this place that was run by a Mrs. Longrigg with whom I am still in touch after all these years. I intend to meet her again before I leave, but for the moment, all I did was take a picture of the sunroom above the garage in which I had once stayed.

Then, I walked to the University Park and noticed that the trees have leaves whose foliage is rapidly changing color—I now see rusts and yellows. The temperature is also distinctly autumnal now and I was grateful for my jacket. At the end of the Park near Keble College, there was an emergency situation. It seems that a young woman on a bicycle suddenly had an epileptic fit and fell to the ground, much to the consternation of her young male companion. He laid her on the ground as some passers-by called for the ambulance. I waited for a while until she seemed more stable and had stopped thrashing and dribbling. The ambulance had not yet arrived when I walked away as I found the entire situation deeply disturbing and there was not much I could do to help.

By the time I got to the Natural History Museum, just a few meters away, I realized I had not eaten anything since breakfast—so I went straight to the café and ate a vegetable samosa and a latte. They were both delicious—but maybe I was just starving by then (about 4.00 pm)! Across the Museum I went and descended the stairs to see the Shrunken Heads at the Pitt Rivers Museum (which is one of the plots of an Inspector Lewis episode) and the antiquated knife—which Colin Dexter had woven into one of his Inspector Morse plots. You can see that with not much time left, I made sure I asked specifically for these items and was delighted when I found them. The Pitt Rivers Museum is so fascinating to me that I would love to return to it to spend some more time inside. But at 4.30 pm, they shooed us all out.

Heading to the St. Cross Building:

Part of my plan for today was traversing parts of Oxford on foot that I had not done for a very long time. Walking along South Parks Road, I turned into St. Cross Road where I had once attended lectures in the English Faculty Building. Alas, they are renovating it and it was out of bounds to visitors. I took a picture of the steps and the facade and then continued along the road to arrive at Holywell Road from where I walked to Queens Road to Marks and Spencer to pick up some groceries. Armed with my milk, canned tongue, bread and cream, I arrived at the Porter’s Lodge of Christ Church College ready to attend Evensong at 6.00 pm.

Evensong at Christ Church College:

And so there I was at 6.05 pm when Evensong began (Oxford follows some peculiar tradition which dictates that it begin everything 5 minutes after Greenwich Mean Time—don’t even ask!). This time, the entire choir was in attendance including the little choristers. I realize increasingly how multi-cultural and multi-racial the UK has become when I see black and brown faces among the choir—one never ever saw this sort of mixture thirty years ago! It certainly bodes well for diversity.

The service was lovely, the setting spiritual, the attendees deeply involved. But by 7.00 pm, when it ended, I was tired and kept thinking of going home to a nice hot meal and some relaxing telly—for that’s my favorite way to unwind.

On the bus, I arrived home, 15 minutes later, served myself some of the Lamb Jalfrezi that I had cooked two days ago and ate it with toasted bread with brownies and ice-cream for dessert. I felt like a million dollars at the end of a most enlightening day.

Until tomorrow, cheerio…

Having Company in Oxford–Research at the Bodleian and a Walking Tour

Sep18

Friday, September 16, 2016

Oxford

It is odd waking up with someone else in the house. Carol is also an early riser and I could hear her moving about upstairs and using the bathroom. When I was free, I moved in to use it. It was also nice to sit at a table and eat breakfast properly with someone else to talk to. About six weeks after being on my own, I am appreciating the joys of companionship. We had toast with peanut butter and Tony’s homemade gooseberry jam (with gooseberries from his allotment) for brekkie with tea for her and decaff coffee for me, showered, dressed and left the house, as decided at 8. 45 am.

We took the bus together to Oxford City Center down Abingdon Road and parted company at St. Aldate’s. Carol, a gardener and amateur botanist, headed to the gardens at Christ Church College for we found the gates wide open, and I waited for the bus to turn into the High Street, got off at Queen’s College and walked to the Bodleian. It was our plan to meet on the steps of the Ashmolean between 12. 45 and 1.00 pm, for Carol would have time to pick up our friend Rose who was arriving from London on the train at 11.00 and spend an hour or so at the Ashmolean before I joined them for a lateish lunch.

Research at the Bodleian:

I am loving these mornings spent quietly in uninterrupted reading at the Bodleian’s Radcliffe Camera building. I have been very fortunate to find seats rights by the window but this morning, things were slightly different. There was a bustle at the entrance to Brasenose College which is right on Radcliffe Square—students were standing around with big bunches of balloons and there was a massive banner announcing the name of the college on the door. Was this the day the new freshmen moved in, I wondered. Wasnt it a tad too early for that?

It did not take me long, from all the noise and commotion outside, to discover that it was Open Day at Oxford University. This was brilliant. It was the day Rose had chosen to arrive at Oxford and I was supposed to give my new friends, a walking tour of the town and gown portions of it. Wow! This meant that we’d be able to get to the more inaccessible colleges (such as Christ Church) for free! Yess!! Well, I concentrated on the chapters I wished to finish, continued making my notes and then at 12. 45, I left my carrel and moseyed up to the Ashmolean. Although I was right in the middle of one of the most interesting bits in my research, I had to drag myself away as I did not want to keep my friends waiting. Time permitting, I would return later in the day to continue working.

Oxford’s crowds had trebled—prospective students and their parents were everywhere. As they competed with the regular late-summer tourist hordes, it jammed the entire city. Thankfully, autumn has sneaked in finally and under blue skies (although it had drizzled in the morning), the cool temperatures did much to help us keep our cool despite the crowds.

I waited for about 20 minutes before my friends (who were deep in the heart of the Ashmolean) joined me on the steps, as planned. Right away, I began my walking tour with them showing them the following items that I think every first-time visitor to Oxford needs to see—plus many more colleges thrown in as well as they were happy to welcome us in.

  1. The Ashmolean Museum (founded in the 1600s and named for Elias Ashmole who started the collection by bequeathing his own).
  2. The Randolphe Hotel (famed setting of so many episodes of Inspector Morse that there is a bar in there now named ‘The Morse Bar’ and a ‘Morse Suite’ on the third floor. Great place to have Afternoon Tea to which I was once treated as a grad student by wealthy American friends).
  3. The Martyrs Memorial (to remember Cardinals Latimer, Cranmer and Ridley who were burned at the stake by Bloody Mary Tudor during the counter-Reformation).
  4. We detoured to enter St. John’s College but its famed Canterbury Quad was made ugly by the erection of huge white marquees.
  5. A look at St. Giles, location of the Eagle and Child pub where the Inklings (Tolkien, C.S. Lewis and their friends) met once a week while studying at Exeter College to talk about their work.
  6. Also on St. Giles, the War Memorial that divides the road into Woodstock Road (because it leads there) and Banbury Road (ditto) and to look at the other pub on the other side, The Lamb and Flag.
  7. Broad Street to see the actual spot at which the martyrs were burned. Marked by a cross of white and black stones.
  8. Also on Broad Street, Balliol College—one of the best-known. Just because it was open.
  9. While on The Broad, the exterior of Exeter College’s Margery Quad to spot the new sculpture by Anthony Gormley that happens to be poised just above my former room at the college.
  10. The White Horse Tavern (Morse and Lewis often drank here).
  11. Blackwell and Co. Bookstore and specially the Norrington Room that goes underground several levels and then settles under one of the colleges.
  12. The new spiffy glass and chrome lobby of the newly-named Weston Library.
  13. The former Indian Institute to see the Indian motifs on the wall—cow, lion, elephant, tiger—opposite the King’s Arms Pub.
  14. Down the hidden alleyway leading to The Turf Tavern where Morse drank and Bill Clinton in his student days did not inhale. I ate Beef and Ale Pie with Mash and Veg and half a pint of Guinness. My friends ate giant Hamburgers with chips. We sat in the Conservatory—most un-pub-like—but there wasn’t much room in the more traditional parts of the ancient public house. A very nice meal indeed with huge portions.
  15. Outside, the pub, we looked at the blue plaque that pointed out the former residence of Jane Burden who was the favorite model of the Pre-Raphaelites until William Morris married her and she had a torrid affair with his best friend Dante Gabriel Rossetti.
  16. We emerged under the Bridge of Sighs and walked into the courtyard of the Sheldonian Theater—Christopher Wren’s only Oxford Building. On the right is the Clarendon Building, designed by his best-known pupil, Nicholas Hawksmoor. Carol chose to detour at this point to go into Blackwell’s Art store. The agreement was that we would reconnect either at Exeter College or at the art store.
  17. On to Turl Street and into Exeter College—to which I have a special connection as I did grad work there, many moons ago. We saw the lovely Quadrangle, the Dining Hall (whose steps were adorned with potted geraniums) with its lovely High Table, oil-painted portraits on the wall and wooden paneling throughout. I have eaten many a happy meal in the company of wonderful friends in this beloved space where a lot of bonding has taken place—those bonds still remain. We walked through the Junior Common Room to the Fellows’ Garden where we peeped into the College Library, then climbed the steps to the ramparts of the walls that enclose the college and overlook lovely Radcliffe Square.
  18. On the ramparts of Exeter College, I pointed out the many buildings that give the Radcliffe Square its unique character—exterior of the Bodleian Library, Radcliffe Camera, Brasenose College, The Church of St. Mary The Virgin, All Souls College (the only one that was not open as All Souls College is exclusively for grad students and Oxford Fellows).
  19. Back in Exeter College, we went to the Chapel, designed by George Gilbert Scott who also designed the Library of the University of Bombay where I have also done research—I love my Scott connections! Rose loved the tapestry portraying The Adoration of the Magi as she is a huge Pre-Raphaelite fan. This one was designed by Edward Burne-Jones and created by Morris and Co (of William Morris fame). Morris, Burne-Jones and Rosetti (all Exeter alums) had met in the college, founded the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood and stayed fast friends for the rest of their lives—despite their complicated romantic entanglements. In the Margery Quad (which was under construction—yes, yet again!) I pointed out my room to Rose. Carol was not around at the main door of the college by the time we finished, so assuming she was still in the store, we soldiered on.
  20. Past Brasenose Lane, we entered Radcliffe Square and tried to get into the Church of St. Mary the Virgin. There was a memorial service going on inside, and so we could not enter. Not wanting to waste time waiting, we left the Square and emerged on High Street (The High) which we crossed to enter University College (where Bill Clinton did not inhale).
  21. On to the Shelley Memorial which is tucked-away in a corner of the college—its tribute to a passionate alum and one of the country’s greatest poets, as a way of making up for “sending him down” unjustly on baseless charges.
  22. One to Oriel Square past Magpie Lane where I took Carol into The Bear, Oxford’s oldest pub and the one in which you could, in past centuries, pay for a drink and a meal with a student tie. The Pub collected hundreds of ties that are showcased on the walls and on the ceiling and give it a very unique look indeed. We tried to get into Christ Church Quad but it had closed at 4. 30 pm. So, in the end, we did not get into the one college that asks tourists for payment to enter.
  23. It was then almost 5.00 and Rose had a train to catch from Oxford Station at 5. 30. We made our way back to Exeter—no sign of Carol there. We entered Blackwell Art Shop—she had probably left a long time ago. I checked my phone to see if she had called me—she is not reachable by me as she has a US number and no local UK number. Rose and I were worried. Where was she? It does not bode well when parties separate and there is no phone contact. Rose and I decided that she would go to the Station—they were sure to meet there as they were on the same train back to London.

Rose and I said goodbye and parted—I will, no doubt, see her again in London in October. I had thoroughly enjoyed my day out with my friends in Oxford and although I could have given then at least another two hours’ worth of viewing (for we did not get a chance to see Christ Church College or The Meadows or Magdalen College or the Botanical Gardens or Carfax), one must always leave something out for “next time”. Rose thoroughly enjoyed the tour and her visit.

Back to the Bodleian:    

Since it was only 5.00 pm, I returned to my seat at the Radcliffe Camera—it had almost emptied with most readers having left by this time. I got back to my work and stayed there until 7.00 pm. Then I called Ela who lives in Painswick in the Cotswolds as the plan was that I spend the next day, Saturday, with her and her family. However, after walking to the railroad station and finding that there was a major disruption to the service and that many commuters headed to Heathrow felt deeply concerned about making their flights, I nixed my own plans for Painswick. It was a far more complicated, time-consuming and expensive journey than I had imagined.

Returning Home for Dinner:

The evening had turned chilly—how can it be 82 degrees one day and 62 degrees the next? The UK seems to have gone from summer directly to winter and I was rather cold. It was time to add another layer to my outfit, for sure. I took the bus from St. Aldate’s back home to Grandpont and got myself comfortable in front of the TV to watch and eat my dinner (leftover pasta from the previous day)—which is my favorite place in the world to eat when I am alone. In so many small ways, this house makes me feel thoroughly “at home’—in a way I was never able to feel in my house in Bethnal Green. The difference to my psyche as a result of my new space is simply indescribable in words. I made the right decision, I am convinced now. It was inconvenient to move out of a home in which I had expected to stay for 5 months—but I was not going to be unhappy for 5 months either. I am sure that in my new London space to which I will move in October, my heart will feel lighter again.

I have also discovered that I can re-watch Inspector Morse on ITV on my computer. What a joy to watch Oxford on screen while living in Oxford! I did just that as I fell asleep.

It had been an unusual day—the joy of having friends to share and enjoy one of my favorite places in the world, was simply priceless.

Until tomorrow, cheerio…

Still More Research at the Bodleian and Visiting Cogges Manor Farm

Sep17

Thursday, September 15, 2016

Oxford-Cogges

Still trying to catch up on this blog, I usually wake up in the morning and spend about an hour on it. It is as much as I can afford in my hurry to get breakfast and a shower and get out of the house to reach the Bodleian Library. I have found some wonderful source material there for my research topic of interest and can’t wait to devour it.

Meanwhile, I was delighted to receive news from my publisher (Lexington Books) that my manuscript for my book on Britain’s Anglo-Indians that was reviewed by an anonymous expert in the field has passed approval with flying colors—and with no revision necessary! Needless to say, the news is a huge relief to me as I really did not want to spend my time in Oxford or London revising it while I could be spending it working on research material for a new project. So this is very uplifting indeed. Now onward towards publication.

Morning at the Bodleian:

Not wanting to waste any time, I had a muesli and yogurt breakfast with coffee, made my sandwiches and jumped into a bus on the Abingdon Road and was at the Radcliffe Camera by 9.00 am ready to spend an entire morning on research. Once again, I was almost the first one there and got a coveted seat at the window overlooking Brasenose Lane and the ramparts of Exeter College. How can you beat such a view? It never fails to inspire me to hunker down and focus on my reading.

More readers came and went as the morning flew, but I stayed at my post until 2.00 pm. And yes, once again it was hunger pangs that drove me out as, in the end, one has to eat to live! I am thrilled by the material I am getting a chance to peruse and the speed with which it is brought into my hands and with which I am reviewing it.   Through it all, I am learning wonderful new things about the area I have chosen to pursue and gleaning detailed information about which previously I had only a very hazy idea. It is proving to be a fabulous use of my time here and I am deeply grateful for the opportunity.

Off on the Bus to Cogges:

Just by chance, based on the tourist literature I had picked up at the Tourist Information Center at Oxford, I discovered that Cogges Manor Farm, not too far from Oxford, in-between the village of Eynsham and the town of Witney was the location for the shooting of scenes in Downton Abbey that were based on Yew Tree Farm—the place where Lady Edith leaves her daughter Mariegold to be raised by the Drews. Now having visited Highclere Castle (which was the setting of the grand home of the Granthams) and the village of Bampton (which was the setting for Downton Village and the home of the Crawleys), I figured it would make sense to get to Cogges to see the Museum and Manor Farm where a large part of the shooting was carried out for the series.

I also discovered that it is really easy to get on the bus from Oxford to Cogges. But for the fact that you need to know exactly where to get off (ask the driver), it is simplicity itself. I, therefore, hopped into a the bus S1 at George Street heading towards Oxford Station and in about 40 minutes I was there. I had a really lovely chat with a lawyer seated next to me who also happened to be a big fan of Downton and who gave me better directions for where to get off—although he did not know that Cogges Manor Farm was the location for Yew Tree Farm in the series.

En route to Cogges, we passed through the village of Eynsham that might have meant nothing to me expect for the fact that one of my oldest and dearest Oxford friends, Stan Fuller, once Hall Stewart of Exeter College when I had done grad work there, lived in the village until he passed away, two years ago. We had stayed in touch through almost thirty years and it was with a heavy heart that I saw him for the last time at the care home into which he had been moved by his family towards the end of his life. It is sad for me to come to Oxford and not be able to see him as I have done so through all my visits over the years. What thrilled me, as I looked out the window, was that we actually passed right by his lane (Spare Acre Lane) as we drove on to Cogges. Now what are the odds of that? In fact, as I sat there at the window looking at Eynsham pass by, the thought had occurred to me: I wonder if we will pass by Stan’s lane…And then, about five minutes later, there it was! It was simply too uncanny for words. I have since then thought of calling his home but I no longer have his number and other ways of trying to reach his wife Kay and son Austin have led nowhere.

Once I got off the bus, I had to walk for about ten minutes to get to the venue past hedges filled with blackberries, redcurrants and other berries that are in their prime at the moment. What’s more, they are really sweet right now—the wild ones are best, I realize. Not as large as the farmed ones, but they are delicious.

Visiting Cogges Manor Farm:

The beauty of Cogges Manor Farm is that it has been in existence for at least 300 years! Yes, can you believe it? It has stayed a farm for all that time—much modified, of course, as the centuries have gone by, in terms of the amount of land that is still farmed (today about 20 acres) and the kind of buildings that comprise it. However, the bulk of the buildings date from the mid-1800s to the early 1900s—they are stone structures decorated with timber details.

You pay a fee of 5 pounds to enter and wander around at will. It is full of farm animals today but most of them are for show. It is not really a working farm anymore. The receptionist, who turned out to be very knowledgeable about the history and the use of the place for filming, volunteered to take me on a private guided tour himself—I was really grateful for that. I told him that my interest was mainly in the use of the place for Downton and he said that about 20% of the visitors come for that reason. The majority are local residents who bring their kids in to pet the animals, use the play area and the like.

The first part of the farm to which he led me as the Manor House—although it is the original manor house of the farm and would have housed the squire and his family who owned the surrounding lands on which they tenanted farmers would have earned a living, it was considered too grand for the Duke family in Downton and was, therefore, never shown in the series. However, the kitchen (dating from the late-Victorian Age) was used (with prop modifications) as the home of the Drews, the place where Lady Edith visits often to see her daughter, where Lady Mary and Branson come to see if they ought to keep their tenants instead of turning the farm into developments, etc. So, many minor plot lines revolve around this farm and they are all easily recognized if one knows the series well. I took a few pictures of the areas that I recognized from the show and then set about wandering on my own.

Before he left, the receptionist put on a film for me that talked about why and how Cogges Manor Fam came to be chosen as the setting for Yew Tree Farm—it was because it was old, authentically antiquated and would require very little expense to modify for the exact needs of the show. The man also told me that the manor house was used at the setting of the kitchen for the TV show Arthur and George (which I had also watched on PBS in the US) and which starred Martin Clunes, Charles Edwards and Art Malik. It is a true story written by Arthur Conan Doyle on his involvement with the sad fate of a Parsi clergyman named Shapurji Edulji who lost a court case in the late Victorian Age because the jury was prejudiced. Edulji’s son George, a lawyer,  brings Doyle into the fray and upon his involvement, the entire case is re-examined. The man told me that all the cast members were really nice to work with, that they are always courteous and polite and that they loved spending all the time they did at Cogges.

I spent most of the rest of the afternoon enjoying the gardens, the orchards, the stables, the dairy, etc. at Cogges. The vines were full of the sweetest grapes, the espaliered apple and pear trees are strung full of fruit (October 5 is Apple Picking Day and the neighborhood is invited to help), the perennial beds are filled with autumnal dahlias and cosmos. It was truly a pleasure to walk through the country farms and fields and take it all in. I saw goats, pigs, cows and other barnyard animals and lots of chickens and ducks. Little did I think that I would come to Oxford to do research and end up on a farm!  However, it was one of the most unexpectedly lovely afternoons I spent on my own.

Back on the Bus to Oxford to Meet a Friend:

I was back in Oxford in about an hour by 6.00 pm, just in time to meet a friend, Carol, on the steps of the Ashmolean Museum. She had arrived in the morning from Oxford to do some research herself before meeting me for dinner.  Together we strolled about parts of Oxford I had not yet seen on this visit—Jericho, for instance, but then we made our way towards George Street as Carol sweetly offered to treat me to dinner. She was grateful that I had told her she could spend the night at my home in Grandpont (I had taken permission from my hosts, of course).

Dinner with Carol at ASK:

Italian being my favorite cuisine and George Street being filled with restaurants from where we could take out pick, we decided to get to ASK, a Italian eatery where we ordered white wine and then pasta—hers was filled with chicken and mushrooms, mine was filled with prawns and lobster. For dessert, we had a pistachio and olive oil cake which sounded much better than it tasted. I found the texture too heavy and the pistachios too finely ground up. Not a good dessert choice, but my pasta was delicious and it went perfectly well with a rather dry Chardonnay. Over our meal, Carol and I bonded as we have only very recently gotten to know each other (through our mutual friend Rose who will arrive in Oxford tomorrow).

By 9.30, we left the restaurant, hopped into a bus going down the Abingdon Road and by 10.00 pm, really tired after a rather long but very fulfilling day, we said goodnight as she retired upstairs in the master bedroom and I took my place in the spare room downstairs.

Until tomorrow, cheerio…

More Research in the Bodleian Library and Wandering in Wallingford

Sep16

Wednesday, September 14, 2016

Oxford and Wallingford

I am truly enjoying the sensation of waking up in this Oxford home. The silence is soothing to the soul and the only occasional sound I hear is the squarking of a passing duck from the nearby duck pond! How delightful is that? Not a car horn, no sirens, nothing. Little wonder I slept like a baby and awoke fully refreshed at 6.30 to do some blogging.

It has become routine here to wake up, blog a bit, get my breakfast organized and to eat it while watching BBC Breakfast—another huge thrill for me! In so many ways, here in my Oxford home, I feel as if I am home in Southport, Connecticut. This is exactly what I do at home. If Llew is not around, I eat my meals while watching TV and being without one in London left me feeling bereft—how did I think I could pass months on end without the sound of a another human voice in my home? I was crazy! Anyway, here I am, loving the presence of a TV screen that I can flick on without having to go through my laptop.

I had my muesli with coffee and then got my clothes together for a shower. It is still unusually warm for September here in the UK and with rain still staying out of sight, I feel as if the weather too is trying to remind me fully of being home in the US.

Spending the morning at the Bodleian Library:

Having my bus pass now and knowing where the bus stop is on Abingdon Road, I hopped into one just as soon as it arrived, a quick minute later. Having a Library Reader’s Card, I stepped into the Radcliffe Camera to start my research exactly at 9.00am and got a coveted window seat overlooking Brasenose College and the terrace of my own beloved Exeter College. Not many readers had arrived by that hour and for a while, I almost felt as if I had the library to myself. I sat in the round dome area (not underground as I did yesterday). Even the act of walking up the pathway to the door made me feel privileged as the Camera is out of bounds to the public and only card-posssessing readers may enter.

For the next five hours, I stayed glued to my desk in the library and managed to get through one really important book of source material. The other material I had called for had arrived but I will start with it tomorrow. It was only hunger pangs that drove me out of the library at 2.00 pm. I felt thoroughly satisfied with the progress I had made and leaving my seat, I set off for the next item on my agenda—a Visit to Wallingford.

Visiting Wallingford:

Susan and Tony had told me that Wallingford was a nice place to visit if I had the time and I took them at their word. Finding the X39 bus from outside Christ Church College, I hopped into it and was off and away. It was a long ride which I used to eat my sandwiches. I picked up a Belgian Chocolate and Honeycomb frappe from McDonalds’s and sipped that on the bus—for it was a very hot afternoon. Tourists were thicker than flies along Carfax and Oxford’s other popular arteries, so it felt good to get away from the crowds for a while.

I reached Wallingford almost an hour later—I did not realize it was that far away—but driving through the Oxfordshire countryside is such a joy as we pass through very neat villages, open fields now lying fallow and hedges thick with blackberries (now ripe for the picking) as well as apple trees simply laden with ruby red fruit. I am thinking so much of Keats’ “Ode to Autumn” as I take these autumnal country rides—“Season of mist and mellow fruitfulness/Close bosom friend of the maturing sun…” Ah Keats! The English countryside truly puts me in the mood for Keats.

 

Exploring the Village of Wallingford:

As is my custom, I stepped off the bus at Wallingford and looked for the Visitors’ Center. I found one immediately inside the Market Square’s stucco canopy tucked away almost in secret. The lady inside gave me a map for a Walking Tour which she said most visitors use to acquaint themselves with the town. It was a very good resource indeed and it allowed me to see most of the sights in about two hours—which is the time I had given myself for the visit.

Wallingford was put on the global map by the TV series Midsomer Murders, some episodes of which were shot here. The Corn Exchange Building, for instance, dating from the early 1800s which houses a modern-day cinema, was used as Causton Theater. In fact, Wallingford was used as the original Causton of the series on several occasions. It is charming, picturesque and countrified and makes the perfect setting for unexpected murder.

I walked into the Church of St. Mary Le More—a beautiful stone and flint affair that was largely rebuilt in the 1850s. Still, inside it is enchanting with its store of marble memorial wall plaques and timbered ceiling. I skirted around it and behind it to take in the small village shops and the thrift stores (from where I bought a set of soaps from Jane Austen’s home in Chawton) then walked towards the main road to see the Wallingford Museum. I had a quick browse through it and took in the Kineform, a large grassy area with holds the original Saxon town walls—you can see them vaguely—and then passed the Coach and Horses Inn. On the other side of the village, I got seduced by an multi-dealer antiques store and since I have always been a sucker for browsing in them—although I barely purchased anything anymore as my home is so full of clutter—I spent the next hour looking at everything from kitsch to vintage jewelry to really beautiful porcelain candlesticks.

About an hour later, it was almost 5.00 pm when I took a quick turn into Waitrose and then boarded my bus back to Oxford.

Evensong at Christ Church Cathedral:

At 5.50 pm, I awoke with a start when we arrived at Oxford for I had fallen asleep on the bus and enjoyed a most refreshing nap. Waking up instantly, I hurried into Tom Quad at Christ Church College to attend Evensong as I had a very special intention for which to give Thanksgiving.

Evensong was amazing. There were more than 150 people gathered in song and prayer and led by a superb adult choir (the little boy choristers have not yet appeared), I gave myself up to my ancient surroundings, the delicate stone carvings on the walls, the soaring heights of the nave and the pomp and pageantry that only the Anglican Church can present, thanks to their insistence on custom and tradition. I loved the service which was prayerful and soothing and a perfect end to my day. After the service, I met Martin, one of the pastors, who told me how happy he was to see me in church again. The next day, he said, the choristers would also be present, but I am not sure I will be free tomorrow evening at this time as I have a visitor to entertain.

Off to the Oxford Playhouse to see “Relatively Speaking”:

It was a good job I had fixed myself two sets of cheese and chutney sandwiches today because soon after Evensong which finished at exactly 7.00 pm, I strode off to the Oxford Playhouse. In the morning, I had stopped there to buy myself a ticket to see Alan Ackyborn’s Relatively Speaking—a rollicking comedy in his unmistakable vein. Where would British comedy be without its Ackyborns and Bennets and Cowards, I always wonder.

Anyway, for 15 quid, I was amazed at how good my seat was, how beautifully the interior of the Playhouse has been done up with its bright new velvet seats in jeweled colors, its spiffy new lobby with wine bar and its lovely stage. I made myself comfortable and then gave myself up to the laughter and the fun for it was a really hilarious show based on a series of misunderstandings between a younger couple and an older couple. I could not have spent a more relaxing evening and I enjoyed every second of the play. During the intermission, I ate my sandwiches so that I did not have to worry about dinner when I got home after 10.00 pm.

On the Bus and Home to Bed:

I caught a bus from St. Aldate’s that sailed down the Abindgon Road and two stops later, I hopped off. Although there was only a stray passer-by or a person on a bike at that time of night, a little after 10.00 pm, I did not feel the slightest bit of trepidation as I made my way down two side streets to my doorstep. It has to do with the general prosperity of the neighborhood. Where you have poverty and seediness, you have crime and in this wealthy part of Oxford, I did not have to worry about my personal safety at all as I had been doing in London. This too was a novel feeling after more than a month of worry.

I was home in five minutes and after brushing and flossing my teeth, I went straight to bed after what had been another perfect day of work and leisure.

Until tomorrow, cheerio…

Research in the Bodleian Library and a Bus Ride to Woodstock

Sep15

Tuesday, September 13, 2016

London

Awaking on my own in my new home in Oxford was another novel experience. I love the silence of this home—there are absolutely no street sounds, no crazy traffic, no music blaring from passing vehicles, to wake me up here. I adore the sights of a green meadow outside my bathroom window—what a joy to have a bathroom that actually has a window! In every respect, this home here in Oxford reminds me so much of my own home in Southport, Connecticut. This is what I am accustomed to: a home in the country surrounded by greenery, cozily furnished, lived-in. I am rejoicing in it and making the most of every second I spend here.

Getting a Reader’s Card for the Bodleian Library:

I brewed myself some coffee and got breakfast of muesli with honey yogurt organized. I also had a shower and got myself ready for the day. My first priority was getting to the new Weston Library to get my Reader’s Card and I was there a little after 9. 30 am. Producing two pieces of ID and my NYU ID card, I was easily able to obtain my card, after filling out a brief application form. The lovely young man who helped me out put me through the paces and told me where to go to obtain material based on my Bibliography.

I made my way up to what used to be the Indian Institute Library (now called the David Reading Room), where another lovely assistant showed me how to go to the first floor to use the computers to find the call numbers for the books I sought. My card would not work for at least an hour and my passage through the varied security gates depended on a small slip of paper that cleared me through. As a Reference Library, rules at the Weston Library are very similar to those at the British Library in London: pencils only, all material to be carried inside in clear plastic bags, phones turned on silent.  Armed with Call Numbers, I went back to the David Reading Room where an ever sweeter assistant called for the material I needed from Closed Stacks. Some of this material is stored in Swindon, a little way outside Oxford, and will arrive only tomorrow. I asked for it to be sent to the Radcliffe Camera as most of the material I need is there and because I rather fancy sitting in some of the world’s most extraordinary and oldest libraries to do my research.

Off to Begin Research:

And so off I went to the Radcliffe Camera, past Japanese tourists clicking pictures of the incredible Radcliffe Square, and inside I disappeared. I was directed three floors down into the basement where I found the two important books I was looking for—I took these to the quiet, air-conditioned space of the lower level basement reading area. The air-conditioning is such a relief as the UK is having its hottest September in 20 years. I am not complaining as the days are warm and sunny and perfect for exploration. In fact, it seems rather a shame to have to sit underground in a basement, albeit a cool one, instead of being outside enjoying the last of the summer wine.

Bu that was exactly what I did—and from 11.00 am when I began my research till 2.00 pm when I stopped because I was hungry, I knuckled down to some serious reading. It was such a delight to learn the process of finding call numbers for books and going down into the stacks to seek them out (in the good old days, you called for the books and never got to the stacks yourself—you waited for them to be sent up and then picked them up from the desk). I was amazed how quickly I made research progress, thanks to the quiet and studiousness of the atmosphere. Colleges have not reopened for classes yet—so, for the moment, independent scholars have the run of the libraries and are savoring every moment.

Re-visiting the Covered Market:

Leaving the Bodleian Library, I walked to Broad Street to the Tourist Information Center to pick up a host of brochures and flyers for places of local interest that I can explore in the late afternoon. I then sat on a bench overlooking Exeter College and Anthony’s Gormley’s sculpture on the rooftop just above the room I once occupied in the college and ate my cheese sandwiches. That done, I walked towards the Covered Market to use the loos and to explore a place from which, thirty years ago, I had bought very expensive cheese for a party at Exeter College. The cheese shop is still there together with a number of pricey butchers’ establishments, bakeries, pie shops, shoe shops and the like. I am happy to see that although some Asian dealers have set up shops, the traditional British salespeople are still dominating—not like Shepherd’s Bush Market in London which made me feel as if I was in a bazaar in Bombay!

Off on the Bus to Woodstock:

I found the bus stop on George Street that enabled me to board the S3 bus to Woodstock. It was a half hour journey to the little village that sits at the entrance to the Cotswolds and shares many of the typical characteristics of these areas: honey-toney stone buildings, charming cottages, wool churches, a village hall, a high street filled with tea rooms and taverns.

Woodstock has all these elements plus is the place you go to see Blenheim Palace, built by a former Duke of Marlborough and birthplace of Winston Churchill who descended through this illustrious aristoctatic family. Most recently, it has been the site of a number of shootings of Hollywood films including James Bond’s Skyfall! Having been to Blenheim twice before, I did not venture towards it, but focused on lesser-known Woodstock streets. I could not find the showroom of Lady Henrietta Spencer-Churchill, an interior designer of repute who lives in Blenheim Palace, which used to be on the High Street—it is possible that her business has moved.

However, I did find the Museum of Oxfordshire, which happens to be free to enter. I thoroughly enjoyed looking at the little exhibits that make up this place especially a showcase filled with local taxidermied animals and birds that represent the area. There was also a lovely film about rural Oxfordshire in 1944 and the manner in which life has changed in this region. In particular, it is amazing how the influx of ethnic people from around the way is changing the face not only of British cities but smaller towns and villages as well!

The Receptionist at the Museum who entered into conversation with me was delighted to discover that I was from Connecticut, only 10 minutes away from where his daughter lives—in Norwalk, having married an American. He knows and loves our area well and could barely let me take my leave—so much did he want to chat about America.

Back to Oxford:

It had been my intention to attend Evensong again at Christ Church Cathedral—this time with the full choir. But the bus disappointed us very badly, not showing up on time at all and making me very late for the 6.00 pm service. I, therefore, decided to skip it and took the bus home. Once I got to my doorstep, I left my heavy bag with its tourist material behind and taking some of it to browse through, I walked one minute away to the park and the duck pond where I did some leafing through. I enjoyed every second of the lovely late summer’s evening with the sunset still in the distance and dogs prancing around off leash—so delighted to be in the park themselves. Ducks quacked occasionally and added to the countrified experience that I am so relishing.

Home for Dinner:

Back home, I switched on the TV and got my dinner organized. I was thrilled to eat the last bits of Shepherd’s Pie and Susan’s Apple and Fennel Salad with Beetroot and feta cheese and to eat brownies and vanilla ice-cream for dinner—what a treat to have such a smashing dinner and not to have cooked it myself! Once again, I feel overwhelmed by the extent of the blessings that are being poured on me.

After a little bit more TV, I got ready for bed as I gave thanks for another very productive research day in Oxford.

Until tomorrow, cheerio…

Oxfordshire Rediscovered–and an Extraordinary Meal at Le Manoir

Sep15

Monday, September 12, 2016

Thame and Great Milton, Oxfordshire

I slept rather well in my new ‘home’—awaking at 3.00 am, finding it hard to return to sleep, then dozing off and waking at 7. 15—quite the latest I have ever awoken! A quick shower later, I joined Susan and Tony for breakfast of toast and his homemade gooseberry jam—there is truly no end to the hidden talents of this retired Oxford don: he cooks, he makes jam, he paints, he walks cross-country…what a fantastic way to spend one’s retirement from academia. Susan had made excellent coffee and over a couple of cups, I found out how to get to the Thornhill Park and Ride where I was to meet my friends that morning.

Off to Thornhill Park and Ride:

Right after breakfast, I said Goodbye and Thanks to Susan and set out with Tony to the Covered Market at Carfax to get some money changed. It is amazing how despite a few superficial changes (retailers come and go, for instance), Oxford has remained essentially the same ever since I first came here about thirty years ago as a grad student. Walking its streets, however, never fails to fill me with delight as I revel in the architecture and the sheer antiquity of the place.

Tony and I said goodbye and I walked into the Senli Exchange Center to get my errand accomplished. I then walked to the High Street to find a bus that would take me to Thornhill (Bus 400) as there would be no time for me to get my Bodleian Reader’s Card just then. Although I tried to buy a bus pass for the week from the Travel Center near Queen’s College, I was instructed to go to Gloucester Green to get the kind I wanted (The Key and A Stagecoach Smartcard combination).  The bus came along on schedule and in about 20 minutes, I was at the place that my friends Rosemary (Roz) and Lizzie had chosen for our meeting.

Meeting my Gal Pals:

Roz had come up from London to spend the night with our mutual friend, Lizzie, not too far from Oxford and had suggested that we meet up and spend the day in some Oxfordshire venues as she was driving her car. I thought it would be a great opportunity for me to visit these areas and so I took her up on her suggestion.

They arrived a little after 10.00 am—although I have met Roz often since arriving in London, I was meeting Lizzie after a very long time—we had a wonderfully warm reunion and then were on our way.

Coursing Through Oxfordshire Towns and Villages:

The ladies suggested we first get a cup of coffee first and as we set off, we decided that the town of Thame would be our first port of call. I recalled, as we arrived in the city, that I had passed through it, very briefly, about a month ago, with my friends Bash and Vanita when we had undertaken a driving tour of the locations used in the TV series, Midsomer Murders. It is a really pretty town with a Town Hall that dominates the place and divides it into two islands surrounded my shops. We chose a cute little coffee shop where we sat down with huge Americanos and caught up. It is such a pleasure for me to be in the company of like-minded women my age and to be able to discuss everything with them—from US politics (everyone wants to talk about Trump!) to films, theater and food.

After a longish gab, we set out in Roz’s car again and decided to go and peak at the church for which Thame is rather well known. It is an ancient structure with a rather unusual design—more castle than cathedral really. Like most Cotswold churches, it is set on a height to give it magisterial stature. We did not go in but we did admire its location and design and then we drove away from Thame.

Seeing signs for Great Milton, we headed in that direction for the next item on our agenda: Lunch at Le Manoir Aux Quat’Saisons where reservations had been made weeks in advance. Eating a meal here was on my Bucket List and I was really glad that I had two huge foodies with whom to share the experience

Arriving at Le Manoir Aux Quat’Saisons:

‘Manoir’ is one of the world’s best restaurants. It is tucked away, as if in secret, in a fold of the Cotswolds, in a really tiny village that has been put on the international map by its founder-chef, the Frenchman Raymond Blanc who made it his headquarters about 25 years ago. In partnership with his English wife Jennie, an interior designer, they bought a manor in a small English village and decided to turn it into a top-class hotel and restaurant. In a very short time, it acquired a global reputation for being one of the most luxurious places to stay in the world—if one’s tastes run towards small, unspoiled, understated spots of style and elegance. It is really tough to get a reservation at their place where the minimum wait is three months.

Of the three of us, Lizzie had been before (a long time ago, but the visit and the meal were still fresh in her memory).  Roz and I, being first-timers, were excited for the treat that lay ahead for us. We parked the car in the main parking lot, took in the initial sight of the giant sculpted artichokes that welcome visitors into the place and made our way towards Reception.

Lunch at Le Manoir:

Many visitors to Manoir are overnight guests spending very special anniversaries, birthdays or other milestones in a perfectly private setting. There are some, of course, like us, who arrive merely for a meal. But after we announced our arrival, we were led out into the garden for drinks: we chose sparkling water with a twist of lemon to get us going and were completely thrilled when small slabs of slate were placed before us with the chef’s selection of amuse-bouches—each little morsel was a joy to the eyes as vivid color seen in a marinated skinned cherry tomato, a two-colored nectarine, salmon tartare on a crisp and cream cheese on a sesame cracker greeted our palates. It was quite visually stunning and in unison we reached for our cameras as the sight was certainly photo-worthy.

For the next hour or two (who’s counting?), we gave ourselves up to the sheer pleasure of being cossetted and pampered by highly trained professionals who know how to make guests feel like a million dollars. We were led to the dining room inside that overlooked the garden and to a table beautifully laid with crisp white linen, sparkling crystal and pretty silverware. The prix fixe five-course lunch menus were set before us and we had a chance to feast our imaginations on what lay ahead. The meal then followed and it is hard to find words to describe how great it was. Suffice it to say that as we progressed through tiny glasses of creamy butternut squash soup with a cracker of squash puree and blue cheese, from a salmon in gelee served over Japanese pickled radish with lemon verbena oil and sorrel, from a poached egg served over watercress puree with a garnish of crispy ham and toasted hazelnuts, from roasted quail served with beetroot done every which way and finally to dessert which was a blackcurrant sorbet served over creamy mascarpone cheese, we were simply speechless. Not being partial to runny egg yolk, I had the poached egg course exchanged for a vegetable risotto which arrived garnished with bright nasturtiums and since we knew that the secret of the taste of the food here is directly a result of all the organic farming done in the acres of fields, orchards and gardens that surround the manor, Roz decided that we ought to order one of the garden salads to go with our meal. Seriously.  It is impossible to describe how good everything was and how marvelous it was to share the experience with foodie friends who paused to savor each mouthful, to figure out what the chef had done to the ingredients and to take home some tips for ways and means by which we can modify what we learned over one incredible lunch in our own home kitchens for all three of us adore cooking. Thanks Monsieur Blanc for helping me tick off one more item from my personal Bucket List. Each of us left the restaurant and walked out to explore the gardens promising ourselves that we would bring our significant others to this establishment if ever fate allowed it.

Exploring the Gardens of Le Manoir:

The gardens are a great place to end a meal at Manoir. They are extensive, varied and a present the opportunity to expend a few of the calories consumed during the superlative meal—although, truth be told, despite five full courses, none of us felt stuffed as we arose from the table for the portions are small but exquisitely tasty.

The Gardens are different—you start at the Wildflower Garden that has been developed under very old apple trees that are bursting with fruit. You then move on to Maman Blanc’s Herb Garden—planted in honor of his mother at whose feet he learned all his cooking as Monsieur Blanc is self-taught and has never been to culinary school himself! You move on next to the never-ending Vegetable Gardens where we spied everything from giant pumpkins and squash flowers to artichokes, asparagus and kale. Meanwhile, there is carefully-chose sculpture that is appropriate to the venue—the Vegetable Garden, for instance, is overlooked by a buxom woman named Sarah who carries a trug laden with produce she has just picked. Children are everywhere in bronze and stone. Around a vast pond, there are sculptures of cranes in various stages of flight—they are superb renditions of large birds.

From there, we walked into the Japanese Garden complete with curved bridges over flowing streams and little tea houses lined with tatami mats and concealed by shoji screens. Nearer the Manor, the English gardens filled with perennial flowers and a darling little gazebo entice visitors to spend a moment seated in quiet contemplation of Nature’s bounty. We took a break to use the really appealing loos upstairs where gently-fragranced toiletries made us feel more spoiled by the entire establishment. It was truly with difficulty that we tore ourselves away from the place to explore the church next door that adjoins the property.

It is a very ancient church and it has its share of marble plaques on the wall that commemorate the doings of various worthies over the centuries. Honey-toned Cotswold stone brings a unique look to these sacred buildings and the faded grave stones that surround them evoke even more strongly the whiff of age. We made our visit inside and then walked slowly back to our car. Needless to say, we took a few pictures to immortalize our visit to this very special place and then we drove quietly away, marveling frequently at the entire drama of the experience we had just encountered. My meal made me feel compensated for the entire month of sandwiches on which I have basically subsisted!

Back at Thornhill and Oxford:   

About a half hour later, I bid goodbye to Roz and Lizzie as they dropped me off at the bus stop to enable me to catch the bus back to Oxford. Twenty minutes later, at just a few minutes past 5.00 pm, I was in ‘The High’ (as the High Street is known) again. It was too late to get my Reader’s Card for the Bodleian Library which I will do first thing tomorrow, but I did get a huge map of Oxford from the little shop on Holywell Street opposite New College from where I have bought it before. I also walked past The Broad to George Street to the Gloucester Green Coach Station to get my Bus pass for the week—it will allow me to travel from Grandpont where I live to Carfax and then in and out of the city so that I can do some exploring. Armed with my new pass, I decided to start using it the next day (to get maximum value out of it).

Said Prayer at Christ Church Cathedral:

Since it was still a little before 6.00 pm, I walked towards Tom Tower to enter Christ Church Cathedral for Evensong. However, when I got there, the man in the bowler hat, who guards the entrance told me that it was Said Prayer that evening as the choir had the evening off. It was no reason to leave—so I crossed huge Tom Quad and arrived at the Cathedral where I was led to the oldest part of it—more than a thousand years old. There I took my seat and gave myself up to the quiet spirituality of the environs as well as the priest, Martin, who led us in prayer and song. There were no more than a dozen people there and yet it was so special. After the service, I chatted with Martin a bit (he happens to lead the integrated religious program at Oxford having studied Hinduism and spending considerable amounts of time in Haridwar and Rishikesh in India). The Ecumenism of Anglicans never fails to astonish me. They far precede similar attempts that are being made by Pope Francis to reach out across religious barriers towards embracing difference

Home for TV:

It was still bright as I walked down the Abingdon Road towards my home. Once there, I sat myself in front of the TV and channel surfed—thrilled to be able to do so after a month and a half! I had absolutely no thoughts of eating anything after our extraordinary meal of the afternoon and it was about 10.00 pm, that I switched the light off after videochatting with Llew.

Until tomorrow, cheerio…

Goodbye London, Hello Oxford: City-Hopping with a Song in my Heart

Sep14

Sunday, September 11, 2016

London-Oxford

Once again, I have to say that although overnight coach travel is not my favorite form of transport, at 7 pounds for the journey from Glasgow to London, I would do it again. Besides, I do sleep much more than I expect and end up feeling quite refreshed when I get off. We had one 30 minute rest stop somewhere in the middle of the night—we could use restrooms and get coffee and then we were off again, pulling into London Victoria Coach Station at 7.00 am. I wheeled my backpack to the Tube station at Victoria, boarded the District Line train and was at Stepney Green Tube station at 7. 30. I rushed in for a shower, unpacked and repacked for my two-week stay in Oxford, got myself some breakfast—leftover pizza reheated in the microwave!—attended to some urgent email I had received overnight and rushed out of the house by 9. 30 am. Yes, I pulled off a small miracle!

Mass at St. Paul’s Church, Kensington:

My goal was to get to the home of my friends, Michael and Cynthia, in Chelsea by 10. 15 to join them for 10.00 am Mass at St. Paul’s, Kensington. On the Tube to Sloane Square, I arrived there just as they were about to leave. I stashed my backpack with them and off we went through Chelsea on a restful Sunday morning to arrive at the church.

There happened to be a Baptism on that morning—a Brazilian child named Luca would have the privilege of being baptized by a Bishop, my friend Michael. Cynthia, his wife was much in demand as parishioners wanted to see her “halo”. She had just returned from Rome where she had the privilege of attending the canonization services for Mother Teresa! Many years ago, when she worked for Air-India, Cynthia (being a Christian) had been chosen to drive Mother Teresa on two separate occasions during her visits around London! It is not often that someone you have actually known in life becomes a saint! And Cynthia felt deeply honored to have had the chance to attend the canonization. Naturally, we had much to talk about after Mass as we walked back to their place. They had invited me to join them for lunch before I boarded my 3.00 pm coach to Oxford from Victoria and I had gladly accepted.

Mass was of the High quality! There was amazing singing from a brilliant choir, a humorous (if slightly too lengthy) sermon from the Dean of the Church, the presence of incense wafting around the rafters and the cries of a little baby boy as water was poured on his head. Indeed it was a beautiful Mass and, as in all Anglican churches in England (which is why I attend them) rather theatrical!

Lunch in a Chelsea Home:

Lunch was a very inform al affair as Cynthia put on a smorgasbord of things for us to graze on—from pizza to hummus, to salads fresh from her sister-in-law’s Susan’s Oxford allotment and fruit salad (with mango, pineapple and grapes) for dessert. It was the perfect light afternoon meal. Cynthia then saw me downstairs and to the bus stop so that I could take the C1 to Victoria Coach Station. The bus took a while to come and left us nerve-wracked and I was just about to hail a cab when it arrived. To my utter delight, it did not go through the King’s Road (which is always traffic-ridden) but sailed down a back street and along Elizabeth Street so that I got to Victoria in exactly five minutes with plenty of time to spare to board my coach to Oxford.

My super-cheap Megabus ticket (only 5 pounds to Oxford when bought online) was actually for the Oxford Tube (they must have a tie-up) and on the top deck, front and center, I never fail to recall the very first time (almost 30 years ago) when I had made a similar journey with my friend Firdaus as we embarked on a summer course and graduate study at Exeter College. Once we passed Brent Cross and the Westfield Shopping Mall that has sprouted there, we went by fields filled with sheep, cows and horses (thankfully some things do not change). I love these coach rides and always manage to nod off for a bit—20 minutes’ shut-eye can do wonders for one’s energy. Long live Power Naps!

Arrival in Oxford:

In what seemed like no time at all, we were in Oxford and sailing down “The High” (High Street). Since the friends whose home I will be occupying for the next two weeks live in Grandpont, they suggested I get off at Christ Church College at St. Aldate’s. This cut down my walk to their home. Susan, my friend, met me half way down the ten minute walk to her place. It was a fabulous reunion for she is a very warm and loving person and it is always a huge joy to see her and spend time with her.

Settling into Grandpont:

I have stayed with Susan and her partner Tony before so I knew, more or less, what to expect of their cozy home and its surroundings. I have to say that my spirits soared as soon as the coach turned down The High and when my feet touched the ground as I alighted, I felt a spring in my step and a song on my lips. I was absolutely delighted to be in Oxford again and thrilled to be in a domestic space where I knew my psyche would be more satisfied and safer. The sun was shining, the streets were still full of tourists (especially around Christ Church—one of the most visited of the colleges) and the air was filled with possibility. I wanted to make the most of every second in this hallowed environment.

Getting to Grips with my New Home:

On arrival at the home on Marlborough Road, I had a reunion with Tony, Susan’s partner, who was equally warm and welcoming. It was a lovely way to arrive in a new place—they were so kind and so hospitable. We sat down and had a cup of tea together with some of the walnut cake I had carried from my home as I had a few half-eaten groceries that I did not want to waste—I could make use of them here in Oxford so I had carried them along.

Sue and Tony then put me through the paces. They often do House Swaps (as they travel so much) and are accustomed to having strangers live in their home while they are away. They had my bed and room all ready for me and showed me the heating, lights, garbage disposal, kitchen appliances, shower and bathroom fitments, TV and remote (how thrilled I was to have one and how did I ever think I would survive months on end in London without a TV set?). They wanted me to know all aspects of housekeeping that I would need to use during my stay as they were leaving for Crete, the next day. The house would be mine alone for two weeks during which time they wanted to make sure I could fend well for myself. I was sure I would. Already being in a cozy, lived-in home made me feel so much better.

When we were done with the house, Susan took me for a little walk—right outside their home is Hinckley Park complete with huge duck pond, dog-walkers, a running and jogging path and two steps away is a swimming pool that I could use if I chose to—I had been told to bring along my swimsuit which I did. I seriously could not have had a better place in which to spend the next two weeks and my heart rejoiced. I felt so deeply blessed to have such generous friends who, time and time again, have opened their homes to be in different parts of London and treated me like an honored guest. I often have to pinch myself to believe that such riches are laid at my feet. Feeling deeply happy, we returned to Susan’s place and as I unpacked and made myself at home, she and Tony organized dinner.

For the next hour, we chatted about all the places I could go to and the things I could do in the next two weeks. Tony had made superb lasagna, Susan had a number of salads (all grown on the allotment which is such a passion for the two of them) with homemade brownies and vanilla ice-cream for dessert—what a lovely meal! Just as they were excited about their trip to Crete, I was excited about all the things I had to do: getting a Reader’s Card for the Bodleian Library will be my first priority, getting a bus pass to enable me to use the city bus service as well as to explore the surround Oxfordshire villages and the Cotswolds, getting maps of the area from the Tourist Information Center on “The Broad” (Broad Street), etc. I was determined to pass at least 50% of my time in Oxford in the library since I had the opportunity to do so. It would be so easy to simply stay in vacation mode (what with all the tourists milling around) but I knew there was research to be done.

I fell asleep, about 10.00 pm., while somehow still full of beans. However, I have to admit that the moment my head hit my pillow, I was out like a light.

Until tomorrow, cheerio…

Exploring Glasgow: Burrel Collection, Cathedral, Necropolis, St. Mungo’s Museum

Sep13

Saturday, September 10, 2016

Glasgow

After the incessant rain of yesterday, Glasgow presented us with a beautiful day—it was cool but sunny—a perfect day for exploration of the city. Having made friends the previous evening with one of my roomies, Rayann from Canada, we decided that we would spend the day together as we had exactly the same agenda in mind. One of our roomies awoke at 6.00 am to leave for an early appointment—this woke me up but it was just as well as I had time for a shower and to pack up my belongings to carry off with me as I would be boarding a coach back to London in the evening and did not want to return to the hostel to pick it up. Rayann was doing the exact same thing as she too had a train to Liverpool to catch that evening. Accordingly, we checked out, carried our backpacks with us and walked out into the quiet of a Saturday morning in one of Glasgow’s most affluent neighborhoods with their gracious terraced manors overlooking the park.

Breakfast at the Willow Tea Rooms:

One of the great artists of Glasgow is Charles Rennie Mackintosh who, together with his wife Margaret, created a new aesthetic for the city. Based on Art Deco, he advocated clean lines and non-fussy designs, much in the manner of America’s Frank Llolyd Wright and other artists of the Prairie School of Design. He is best known for designing a series of Tea Rooms for Kate Cranston who ran them in Glasgow. Thus, a trip to Glasgow is not complete without a visit to one of them—right now, only the one on Buchanan Street is open as the one on Sauchiehall Street that Llew and I had visited is undergoing renovation.

Rayann and I boarded a local bus at the bottom of the hill that took us to the City Center is about ten minutes. From there, it was a short two-block walk to The Willow Tea Room—we were one of the first customers as we arrived just after 9.00 am. Our idea was to have breakfast together and while I chose their fruit scones with cream and jam and a bowl of muesli with berries, Rayann had the French Toast with maple syrup. The surroundings were as pretty as I remembered with Mackintosh’s touch evident in every aspect of them—from the chairs to the lamps to the napkins, he designed everything with his signature touch. Our breakfasts were delicious and very graciously served by sweet Scotswomen. It gave Rayann and me a chance to get to know each other and to bond—something we did quite effortlessly as she is a most outgoing person with a lovely friendly personality.

Right after breakfast, we walked the few blocks to Glasgow Central Station where we left our bags in the Left Luggage lockers with the intention of picking them up later in the evening.

Off to Pollock Park to see the Burrel Collection:

It was about half an hour later that we boarded a bus to take us to Pollock Park, located about a twenty minute ride from the city. I had made plans to meet yet another Tweep I follow called Fiona who had often tweeted about taking her dogs for a walk in Pollock Park. Knowing that she lived close by, I wondered if she would like to meet and when she agreed, I was quite excited. She too seemed like such a nice person on Twitter that it made sense to try to make personal contact.

The bus ride took us to Pollock Park quite speedily and, as arranged, Fiona met us at the entrance. She arrived with her husband Andrew and dog Bella who was so happy to meet us. A few greetings and photographs later, we walked into a most unusual museum building to see the collection that was amassed by one man, Sir William Burrel, a Glaswegian shipping magnate who is described as a ‘millionaire magpie’. He devoted himself to buying anything that took his fancy, so that his collection is highly eclectic. There is everything here from the Medieval to the Modern, from Western paintings to Islamic ceramics.

Fiona gave us a very brief introduction to the museum and suggested the order in which we should view it. We started with the Grand Atrium, bright and tree-filled that contains a medieval bust of a woman and several sculptures by Rodin. We then went into the ‘castle rooms’—reconstructions of his home at Hutton Castle where his family had lived in a place filled with furnishings from the medieval past—very similar, I thought, to William Randolph Hurst who created his home, Casa Grande in San Simeon on the California coast which we had recently visited, in much the same fashion. It is like entering the sets of a medieval film—everything pertains to that period—and while I find it interesting to see such places as a visitor, I could never imagine myself living so far in the past.

We then moved on to the rest of the work. What is marvelous about the museum is its very design—elements of the collection—porticoes, doorways—have been incorporated into the building in very clever ways. This allows the viewer to see stained glass from the Middle Ages with sunshine flowing right through them or to view sculpture and tapestry (a really wonderful collection of them) in dark rooms (as they would have been seen when first created). There is also a great desire to blend indoor and outdoor spaces really effectively so that you see Egyptian and Asian objects d’art through the backdrop of the leafy woods outside in the park where an occasional dog-walker passes. It was really lovely. We took a bit of a rest in the auditorium where we watched a long film on Burrel, his Collection and the making of the museum before we set out again. As the Museum is to close shortly for long-term renovation, I felt really fortunate to see it all especially the paintings from Bellini to Bourdin which are now nicely amassed in one huge gallery to make viewing really effortless. Some of them were truly lovely Impressionist works and using the Lonely Planet guide that provided a list of must-see highlights as well as the museum’s own brochure, we did a really thorough job of our visit and felt deeply pleased by it all.

Fiona then suggested we take a walk in Pollock Park which is also a truly wonderful place in which to get lost. She led us towards Pollock House (which is run by the National Trust) which we saw from the outside before we entered the Italianate Garden at the back filled with late season roses and herbs. Fiona told us that much of the TV series Outlander with which I am unfamiliar was shot in this park and she particularly pointed out an old curved stone bridge over the river Card that is used as a setting in the series. About half an hour later, she led us to the bus stop from where we rode back to the city after bidding her goodbye and thanking her for a very interesting visit indeed.

Off to St. Mungo’s Museum of Religious Art and Life:

Glasgow is filled with important and very significant museums and since I had seen the Hunterian Museum on a previous visit and Rayann had seen it the previous day, we both decided to make St. Mungo’s Museum of Religious Art and Life our next port of call. We found out which bus from the City Center would take us there and in about fifteen minutes, we were at the site and making our way into it. It is a most unusual museum because it is an attempt to bring integration between various religions through themes such as birth, death, ceremonies, etc. There are some large-scale exhibits that are arresting such as the largest Shiva as Nataraja that I have ever seen as well as a marble Buddha. There is also a large room crammed with all sorts of objects from every religion on the planet including Bahai which is so little known. Had we the time and the energy, we could have spent an entire day there but we were headed next door to the Cathedral.

Glasgow Cathedral and Necropolis:

Glasgow Cathedral takes you back to the Middle Ages. It is one of the few cathedrals in the UK that remained intact despite the destruction of the Reformation and one that has seen absolutely no refurbishment since then. As a result, you enter into a long dark space and gaze at a soaring nave with walls that seem to go on forever in three tiers. These walls are so blackened by candle soot that you feel immediately as if you are in a space that is thousands of years old. The carved stone choir screen is just stunning and one of the few original ones left in the land. It leads you towards the main altar that is wonderfully evocative of medieval religious practice. Downstairs in the crypt is the tomb of St. Mungo (under the altar) and any number of niches and chapels for quiet prayer. It is an amazing place: in no cathedral (not even in Canterbury which is probably just as old) did I feel the weight of time settle on my shoulders.

Outside there was still bright sunlight as we walked towards the heights of the Necropolis, a vast Victorian burial ground on a hill. This is also a big tourist attraction with its mortuary sculpture and burial vaults overlooking the city. Rayann and I chose not to climb the hill and enter the cemetery. Instead, we hoped to get into Provand’s Lordship, a small cottage-like structure that is retained inside exactly as it was in the 15th century with original fitments. However, it was closed although it was much before 5.00 pm.

We boarded a bus back to the City Center and since we were both pretty tired from our day’s exertions, we got off and went straight to the railway station as Rayann had a ticket to Liverpool to purchase. We also got ourselves a late meal: a Cornish pasty and large mocha for me which we ate while people-watching. Glasgow on a Saturday night provided ample opportunity to do just that as we found ourselves confronted by a hugely fashion-conscious city and inhabitants who were out for a night on the town. Everyone was impeccably attired in fashion’s current favorites and mile-high heeled shoes as they strode through the station towards their restaurants for drinks and dinner. We were enthralled. There was also a very big football match on that evening: the Rangers against the Celtics, and since team rivalry is close to rabid in the city, there was much rowdiness mingled with the style as well.

Saying Goodbye to Rayann and to Glasgow:

Rayann left a little later to board her train to Liverpool. I stayed at the station for a while until I realized that the bus I needed to take me to the Coach station would not run after 8.00 pm. I picked up my bag from the Left Luggage locker and found the bus that took me to the Buchanan Bus Station where I sat for a couple of hours to wait for my coach. I was glad to be inside a warm and safe space as the temperature dropped rapidly and the football fans had begun to take over the streets. It was not long before my coach came along and I boarded it with the rest of the passengers. I made myself as comfortable as I could for the night and as we sped along through the backbone of England, I looked forward to arriving in London once again after a very fruitful but brief visit to Scotland.

Until tomorrow, cheerio…

Conference in Edinburgh and Glasgow’s Kelvingrove Art Gallery and Museum

Sep12

Friday, September 9, 2016

Edinburgh-Glasgow

Today seemed like a whirlwind—so much happened. But to begin at the beginning: I awoke at 6. 30 am with enough time to go over my paper once more and make sure I edited some bits of it in the interest of time. I showered, got dressed, packed up my backpack and took it down with me as I went down for breakfast to the Dining Room by 7. 30 am. I gave myself an hour to order and eat breakfast as I intended to leave at 8. 30 am for the conference venue. The breakfast buffet was fantastic with all sorts of ‘cold’ foods available from fruit to cereal to pastries. I decided to equip myself well for the day with a Full Scottish Breakfast—scrambled eggs with bacon, sausage, mushrooms, tomatoes and toast. It was all beautifully presented and having started with muesli with yogurt and ending with decaff coffee, I was really well taken care of for the rest of the day!

Off to the Conference for my Presentation:

This time since I had a backpack to cart along, I was not going to walk to the University of Edinburgh. Instead I took a bus and reached there in ten minutes with a good ten minute walk to get from the bus stop to the conference venue. I was the first one to get there but in a short time I was joined by the other presenters. Our session was at 9. 30 but people were clearly having a lie-in and strolled in by about 9.45 when it began. There were two other presenters on my panel—both from South Africa and both doing work on indentured laborers from India taken to South Africa during the late 19th century. The papers were excellent. I presented second and had a Powerpoint presentation that showed slides of venues in London that I had found in the British Library. The work of our entire panel was very well received indeed. During the question session that followed, we were all asked to elucidate more of the points we had made. The session was very fulfilling and I felt gratified that I had the chance to showcase some of my very recent research on early Anglo-Indian female presence in Britain.

Right after the session ended, however, I had time for only a quick coffee and exchange of a few comments with some of the attendees before I was thanking the conference organizers for including me and leaving. I had a coach to take to Glasgow and I did not want to be late for it.

On the Coach and checking into Glasgow’s Youth Hostel:

My coach to Glasgow left two hours later. Since it was only ninety minutes away, I thought that I would take the opportunity to re-visit the city for a very specific reason. About nine years ago, when Llew and I had undertaken a driving tour of Scotland, there was a Council strike on the one day that we had planned to spend in the city. It had been my aim to see the Burrel Collection at Pollock Park; but when we arrived there, we found that every museum in the city was closed. Dreadfully disappointed, we had cloistered ourselves in one of the Willow Tea Rooms of Charles Rennie Mackintosh to enjoy hot tea and warm scones. I had promised myself then that I would return to Glasgow to see the museum. Finally, my chance had come!

The journey was very pleasant indeed and very quick. In no time at all, we seem to have reached. Luckily, it was not pouring—just drizzling as I alighted from the coach and found the bus that would take me to the Youth Hostel where I had made a booking for one night. Glasgow’s Youth Hostel is one of the finest in the world. It is located in one of the poshest parts of the city—on Park Terrace overlooking Kelvingrove Park. It is an old mansion that has been converted into a youth hostel. Inside, there are arresting wooden carved staircases, wide corridors and an old world graciousness that is unmistakable. It is hard to believe you are in a youth hostel. That said, it is a very different place to get to by public transport as you have to climb a hill—not very pleasant when you are lugging a bag, when it is raining and you are cold and uncomfortable.

Exploring the Kelvingrove Art Gallery and Museum:

I checked in, picked up my key and found myself in a four-bedded female dorm with three other women. Three of us were my age! It seems that mature female professionals have discovered, as I have done, the wisdom of staying in youth hostels. They are safe, always located in the centre of town, are staffed by English speakers, clean and friendly places. I simply stashed my bag in the locker room downstairs and went off to make the most of the evening.

I discovered that one of the UK’s most-visited museums after those in London–the Kelvingrove Art Gallery and Museum—was at the foot of a hill and could easily be reached on foot in about 15 minutes. So using a map, I found myself there by 3.00 pm and had about two hours to see the highlights. It is a wonderful place indeed and as I feasted my eyes on the incredible works of art to be found there, I was glad I braved the rain and the walk to see it. The most important piece of all is the Christ of St. John of the Cross by Salvador Dali which cannot even be described in words. It is a portrayal of the crucified Christ from a most interesting angle—He is seen hanging from the neck down in a flood of light and darkness that is mesmerizing. Known for his Surrealist paintings, Dali’s talent is often mistaken for mere quirkiness. But in this painting, he truly proves himself to be a master of form and color. It was simply stunning. I could have sat before it forever, but I had to press on. There was a lot to see and I was pleased to say that I managed to see the Highlights as recommended by Lonely Planet and by the Museum’s brochure itself by the time it turned 5.00 pm and the place closed down.

Indeed, life comes to a standstill at 5 pm and on a cold and rainy evening, I could not face the thought of climbing the hill to get back to the youth hostel and then setting out again to pick up dinner. I decided to eat a very early dinner (as I had barely eaten any lunch but for a few cookies) and ended up at a pizzeria where I had a marguerite pizza as the rain steadily drummed on outside. It was a truly lousy day and before it turned dark, I wanted to get back to the safety and comfort for my dorm room.

Accordingly, I began my walk back with the knowledge that not a lot of people were about in the rain. Climbing the hill from the park was a real challenge and I had to pause often to get my breath back. But by 7.30, I was back at the hostel, safe and sound and ready to collapse into my bed—which was exactly what I did. My roomies returned but I used my eye mask and dropped straight into bed and was dead by to the world as I felt wiped out by the exertions of the day.

Until tomorrow, cheerio…

In Exciting Edinburgh–Attending a Conference, Sightseeing and Dinner with New Friends

Sep12

Thursday, September 8, 2016

Edinburgh, Scotland

I surprisingly had far more sleep on the red eye coach than I imagined. It was 6. 30 am when we arrived in Edinburgh. The city was barely stirring but as the Coach Station is right in the heart of it, I was able to follow directions I had received from folks at my ‘hotel’ to the bus stop that would drop me close by. I arrived at the bus stop and found out that buses only take exact change—no notes. There was some anxiety as I fished for change, but in the end, a bus came along, I boarded it, reached my destination and checked in. It turned out to be a Conference Center complete with rooms, a dining room and other facilities. I loved my en suite room (with a TV!) and a lovely thick shower (which I took immediately). Then, I dressed and found out from Reception how to get to the Conference Center. The 15 minute walk they sent me on turned out to be a 45 minute one! I was exhausted by the time I reached the main campus of the University of Edinburgh at George Square and arrived with just 5 minutes to spare before the Keynote Address began.

Conference on Indentured Labor:

The speaker was Nira Wickramasinghe, a Sinhalese scholar from Sri Lanka, now attached to the University of Leiden in Holland. Her work has dealt mainly with Indentured Labor from Sri Lanka under the Dutch colonial government and is based on her scrutiny of the Dutch archives. I found her speech very interesting. It set the tone beautifully for the rest of the conference as she covered so many aspects of the topic that would be taken up other speakers over the next couple of days. There was a coffee break but by then the long overnight coach ride had taken its toll on me and I decided to get out and do some walking or else I would fall asleep in my seat.

Seeing Something of Edinburgh:

I ended up walking out in the slight drizzle (which certainly woke me up) to Greyfriars Churchyard which is renowned for the lovely story about the Skye terrier called Bobby who spent 15-odd years following his master’s death sitting on his grave. He became known as ‘Greyfriars’ Bobby’ and there is a little sculpture to honor him right on the street outside. There is also his own gravestone in the church yard. A really good movie has been made about this faithful dog. Since I saw it a few years ago, it was nice to actually see the sites associated with it.

Greyfriars Church was closed but it is usually very well visited. I walked down the road towards the Royal Mile. Although most first-time visitors head for the Castle and the Palace of Holyrood House, I had seen both on a past visit and wanted to see attractions I had never seen before. Hence, I walked to the Writer’s Museum which is housed in a very old ‘close’, a courtyard with a house that is used to pay tribute to three of Scotland’s best-known writers: Sir Walter Scott, Robert Burns and Robert Louis Stevenson. It is a very small museum but a lovely one—well-curated with many personal items on display that belonged to these writers as well as varied editions of their work and portraits of these men made at different stages of their lives. The house itself is charming with its interior balcony, polish carved woodwork and high ceilings. There are spiral staircases inside that make you feel as if you are in an ancient castle. It does not take long to see the place (unless you read all curatorial notes). In the basement, is the exhibition on Stevenson. I spent a while here and thoroughly enjoyed reviewing their work (most of which I had read when I was a teenager).

I walked a bit down the Royal Mile. The rain had left, the place had dried up, the sun was shining and people were smiling as they browsed in the many souvenir stores that line this main artery through the city. There was loads of really beautiful Scottish merchandise (kilts, scarves, woolen throws, gloves, whiskey, as well as the usual magnets, postcards and porcelain plates). I only picked up a postcard for my scrapbook and then walked towards St. Giles Cathedral which was still open.

St. Giles Cathedral is huge and atmospheric with its soaring Gothic design and its lovely interior statuary and stone carving. After a while, however, I have to say that every Cathedral looks alike and I am now finding it difficult to find elements that make one stand out more than the other. I paid a prayerful visit and left in about ten minutes after skirting the interior and taking in the many side chapels.

Back to the Conference:

I walked back to the University then to rejoin the last session of the Conference. The rain had begun again and it really did wake me up. I found the session just as interesting as the one in the morning and very well attended too. The conference coincided with a festival of Indian films that included features and documentaries that were being screened all day—none of us could attend, however, as our conference sessions were on simultaneously. Still, there was a lovely photography display also by Hermann Rodrigues, a Goan from Jaipur, who made his home in Edinburgh about 25 years ago. He has spent this entire period photographing what he calls ‘Broonscots’—i.e. brown Scots (Sikhs and Hindus from the Indian sub-continent whose families made their home in Scotland several generations ago and have never had any contact with India). He gave a short introduction to his work. On viewing it, I was deeply struck by the concept and by the variety of ‘situations’ he has depicted of a diasporic Indian community of which not much is known in an academic sense.

Meanwhile, dinner was served and as the crowd dipped into the Indian buffet offerings, we had a chance to get to know fellow-scholars working in similar fields. I was struck by the vast female contingent from South Africa—many of the scholars come from indentured stock. Today, they are working on topics that are related to their own family history. I also met a few delegates from India and other parts of the world.

Dinner with Friends:

I did not eat much at all, however, as I had made my own dinner plans with someone I was meeting for the first time—Hina. She is a very humorous person I follow on Twitter and when I informed her that I would be in Edinburgh, she very spontaneously suggested we have dinner. Hina was lovely. She brought along her friend Wendy who is married to an Indian and has visited India frequently. They arranged for us to eat at a very charming bistro called Blonde, not far from the University Campus. I ordered a venison casserole (since I was in Scotland, it made sense to have some) and it was simply amazing with its rich red wine sauce laced with chocolate! Served with creamy mashed potato and topped with parsnip chips, it was a great way to sample some Scottish cuisine. You would never had guessed we were all meeting for the first time—we got on so well, it was incredible. We chose to share dessert—a poached pear in a chocolate brandy basket with raspberry sorbet. Needless to say, it was a very successful evening indeed as we ran the gamut of topics to discuss from books to movies to travel.

A Night Time’s Drive up Calton Hill:

It had been my intention to try to climb up Calton Hill (Edinburgh is studded with hills), but I have been much too fatigued through the past few days to do so. Instead, Hina volunteered to drive me up so I could get some nice views of the lighted city below. I have to say that although the drive was nice, there was not much I could see on a cold and drizzly night. Still, it was good to take in a really grand city by night. Edinburgh projects an image of solidity as its architecture is entirely clad in grey stone. It is picture perfect and I could not stop clicking at every venue. Castles, churches and manor houses in the Old Town are built in tiers with spires adding to the stunning skyline. It is astonishingly beautiful.

About half an hour later, Hina and Wendy dropped me back to my hotel and I have to say that I just lay down and fell fast asleep.

Until tomorrow, cheerio…