Monday 8 June 2015

Oxford - A Tolkien Tour

When I arrived at Oxford, the weather was absolutely beautiful and I decided to first walk out to Wolvercote cemetery, just in case it started raining later. I took a wonderfully scenic route along the canal; it was so relaxing despite the millions of flies and almost being run over by a cyclist. Speaking of cyclists, there were thousands of them! I was beyond confused.


It took me a good hour to walk to the cemetery, but I'm glad I did. I feel better for the exercise. I was slightly concerned that I wouldn't be able to find Tolkien - that concern was quickly alleviated when I immediately noticed a small sign in the grass verge pointing the way. I followed these signs, through the cemetery (which is pretty huge), until one eventually pointed off of the path, into the grass. And there I was, at the grave of the man who wrote my childhood, who brought (and still brings) so much magic and wonder into my life.


Under that soil, with his lovely wife, was one of the greatest writers England has ever produced. I sat beside them for quite some time, enjoying the peace and the sunshine. I told him thanks for everything, and left a wooden rose on the soil amongst other bunches of flowers left by people who visited before.

(After taking this pretentious photo of it on the stone)
I was going to walk back to the city centre, but I was overheated and my legs were hurting. So I got a bus. Once back there, I strolled around the perimeter of Oxford University. I was so intimidated by the beautiful buildings, the nicely dressed students - it smelt of money and privilege. It was like a totally different world. I spent a lot of time ambling around the uni, getting lost on campus briefly, and through the little winding side streets.

Then, shortly after midday, I made my way over to a certain pub I had been reading about - The Eagle and Child. It's a 17th century pub, across from the main building of the university, and it was a favourite haunt of the Inklings. This was a group of writers including Tolkien who used to meet and have a drink and discuss whatever literary geniuses discuss. Obviously as part of my little Tolkien tour, I had to at least have one drink in there!


Inside the pub was just as rustic and quiet as I'd hoped it would be. I mean, there were plenty of people in the main room, but in the 'Rabbit Room', where the inklings used to hang out, it was empty. I eyed the table near the fireplace, reading the plaque above it stating that this was the spot in which the Inklings would hang out. As I approached the bar, I kept my eyes on that table and my fingers crossed that no one would poach the seat before I had a chance.

(The framed paper above the fireplace has samples of the Inklings' handwriting!)
I got to sit at that table, and was ridiculously thrilled about it. Now that I had secured my place, I ordered some macaroni and cheese for lunch - in all my excitement, I hadn't noticed how famished I was. It took a while to come because of the lunchtime rush, but in the meantime I had a lot of fun.

First, a miscellaneous bloke floated over to my table and asked if he could sit with me. I said of course, of course, and asked him if that was an Aussie accent I heard. It was. An Australian man wanted to sit at the table with me. We got to talking about Tolkien and it turns out he'd been touring around Europe and England for the last month, and he was in Oxford on a little Tolkien pilgrimage of his own! His name was Mike, and we ended up exploring Oxford together for the rest of the afternoon.

Then, an American couple asked to join Mike and I at the Inklings table. Again, I said of course. They were very friendly and nice, and the husband (Zachary) was here on a Tolkien pilgrimage too! His wife, Mary Lauren, very graciously joined him to Oxford. They were tourists too, and had been around many lovely, quaint areas in England. It was so amazing to randomly meet tourists in a town packed full of international university students. Anyway, we all chatted (me occasionally through mouthfuls of mac and cheese - they used local cheddar in it and it was absolutely delicious) about our respective adventures, they all asked questions about England and English people in general, and Mike was kind enough to buy me a pint of cider (it was because he clearly fancied me, let's be honest). The Americans took their leave after they'd had lunch and Mike and I decided to go find Tolkien's old house.

It wasn't a very long walk away from the pub to get there. Of course, Google Maps helped me in abundance. We found the house, but we weren't ready for the thousands of old people in the garden, chilling. We spent a lot of time behind the fence just snorting with laughter and trying to surreptitiously take a photo of the blue plaque saying that Tolkien had in fact lived there. We managed eventually.


It's pretty indiscernible but I promise it says something along the lines of 'J.R.R. Tolkien, a well famous author and University of Oxford professor, used to live here'. It was so magical to see the place where he lived, where he was buried, and where he used to drink. The three most important places, really!

Mike and I spent the rest of the afternoon mooching, taking in the scenery, and talking absolute rubbish. We sprawled out in a meadow for a while, watching the squirrels gambol around. We people watched, and laughed, and browsed Waterstones, and my feet were hurting so much but it was totally worth all the fun I had. We went to the station together and he left a little before me (he was going back to his hostel in London, I was returning home via Didcot, of course). He's off back to Perth on Thursday!

The Bridge of Sighs
I had such a brilliant time! I want to go back again and explore more of the university and city some day.