Oxford 3/4/2023

Oxford 3/4/2023

The Premier Inn Hotel in Oxford is not very prepossessing from the outside, but the rooms are spacious, clean and comfortable. There are some surprising omissions, though; very little shelf space, no tissues, and nothing but bath gel on tap in the shower. I arrived here about 11 am on Monday after what seemed like a long, long trip, though to our ancestors it would have appeared a miracle; starting with one cancelled train on Sunday morning, followed by another train to Penrith, a bus to Strathfield, a train to Central, and yet another bus to the airport. Luckily I had left plenty of time, and I had a Banh Mih at a little food court outside the departure gates, where the food seems to be cheaper, and the outlets less crowded, than on the other side of the gates where the glamorous shops are.

Going through security I was randomly tested for explosives, but luckily I had left them all at home, so I got on to the plane and found my (slightly more expensive than standard) seat behind a bulkhead, with plenty of legroom but annoyingly far from the media screen. I shared the central three seats with a woman and her female infant of about six months, with a bassinet on the shelf in front, but there was still plenty of space. The infant was generally well-behaved, but she did get a lot of attention, from other admiring passengers as well as the mother, who would show her affection by cuddling her, crooning to her, and occasionally thumping her loudly and firmly on the back several times, which startled me, although the child didn't seem to mind.

Off at Hong Kong after watching Wakanda Forever (predictable) and a French animation about the Petit Nicolas series originated by René Goscinny and Jean-Jacques Sempé. The activities of the schoolboy Nicolas was interwoven with the lives of his creators, including the sad early death of Goscinny -- who is better known for the Asterix comic strip he wrote for Uderzo, although Nicolas was also apparently a great success.

Two hours at Hong Kong, much of which was spent walking down corridors, before I set off on the longer flight to London, in the same seat, but sharing with two adults this time. I was able to get about 3 hours sleep straight away, but after that it was dozing and reading and podcasts and video games for what seemed like a long, long time. Eventually England became visible on the plane's cameras, and we found Heathrow in what seemed like the middle of nowhere. A long wait for baggage -- apparently one of their other handling systems had broken down, which might have delayed things -- and I was finally able to find a toilet cubicle, take my pills, put a lens in, don my fleece against the cold, and head out to face the UK.

I followed the signs to the bus station, which was crowded but cheerful, and found that the ticket machines were out of action; but an attendant suggested that they might be available from the desk downstairs. It would have been nice if he had known that for a fact; but in any event he turned out to be correct, and I was issued with a bus ticket for Oxford. We set off (late) and bumbled around the airport and through the industrial area around it before heading for Oxford through the countryside, while a family in the rear seats conversed very loudly in Farsi, or possibly Urdu. Once in Oxford we turned into a local bus, and made about five stops before finally arriving at the bus station at about eleven. 

On the way I had booked a day's roaming on my phone, to assist with navigation, but Oxford is so full of paths and alleyways that finding a route is actually quite difficult, with too many choices to pick between. I eventually found the hotel and left my heavy luggage; with check-in not till three, I set off to find lunch and amuse myself for four hours or so.

The hotel is quite near Oxford Castle, an impressive pile which was a prison and is now a hotel, so I strolled around there for a bit. There are lots of tourists in the Oxford High street, which has become a pedestrian walkway -- although it is shared with enormous looming double-decker coaches -- but outside there it seemed relatively empty and a little run-down. Some of the colleges are open for inspection for a fee, but a lot of the shops were closed. Food prices seem about a third more for groceries and restaurant meals than Oz, although there are some bargains like cheese and pints of beer. And unfortunately there seems to be no requirement for English eating establishments to post their menus outside for inspection. 

I found an old pub -- now a Witherspoon's franchise -- which had reasonable prices and made them clear upfront, and was doing very well on the strength of it, and had a pint of warm Abbott's -- pleasant enough -- and an indifferent chicken curry; but by this time I was hardly taking in my surroundings anyway. Then a sightseeing climb up Carfax Tower in Queen Street to overlook the city, and a stroll up to the free Ashmolean Museum, where I was able to use the toilets and browse through the exhibits in an intellectually undemanding way until it was time to return to the hotel. These are very impressive, but a lot of them are poorly lit, and when the label tells you it's a Byzantine nummus depicting the Empress Theodora, you have to take it on trust that it's not just someone's broken cufflink.

I bought some food for dinner on the way back, though as it turned out I didn't feel like eating, checked in, watched TV, showered and got my stuff organised for an hour or so, watched a bit of Laura on TV, noting how much Clifton Webb -- whom I had always thought was Burgess Meredith for some reason --looks like Martin Freeman, and then crashed. No sleep drugs so far, but I managed to get seven hours or so. Up early to eat some salad, write this, and possibly compose some music before breakfast time begins at 6:30. 

Saw this in the Duty-Free. Jenny should be aware that it is now a thing.