10 February 2006 - Friday

Originally we had planned to go to Salisbury for a 4 day weekend but Mirinda decided there'd probably be more open in Oxford so the plans were laid for our second trip to the university town. Of course I'd completely forgotten about it until we drove by a sign saying Salisbury which prompted the little old drunk who looks after the office in my head to suddenly roll over and remind me by jumping up and down and waving big banners behind my eyes.

Anyway…I managed to get away from work a bit early and Mirinda was working from home so the puppies were taken to the Forge and we hit the road at a reasonable time.

Now I have to admit something quite shocking. Many years ago we made the mistake of going to Little Chef - the infamous services restaurant chain - and have joked about it and given the sign of the cross whenever passing the signs, ever since. The main problem was the level of service. It was non-existent really. Tonight, however, we pulled into a Little Chef fort some reason giving them another chance.

I have to report the service was fine and the food was ok and, maybe our opinion has changed. There WAS only 4 other customers so they were hardly rushed.

We arrived well fed at the Oxford Spires Four Pillars hotel at around 8, checked in without a problem then hiked the 30 miles to room 137. It seems nice enough and comfortable but, most importantly, it was very quiet. I then trekked back to the car (once Mirinda had determined we were staying) and unpacked. We watched some TV, had a drink then crashed.

11 February 2006 - Saturday

Woke at 8am to frozen wastes dotted with sedentary horses standing on the frost. But I feel it imperative I mention that this wasn't the first time I'd woken. Mirinda, obviously in the midst of a very funny dream, burst into laughter twice in the night. The first burst was that of a giggly school girl but the second belonged to an Bedlam escapee just before decapitation…mine! When questioned later, she denied laughing in her sleep, even in any style. Leaves me in no doubt that the room is haunted.

We went downstairs for a lovely breakfast of sausages, bacon, fried potato, chunky mushies and tomato. The fried eggs had run out so I was forced into having scrambled. Mirinda was very good and had bran and fruit. After tea and coffee it was briefly back to the room then off to Oxford.

We walked in via the Thames towpath (although it's called the Isis hereabouts, something that is written everywhere) as dozens of strapping young girls girl-handled big rowing boats of varying sizes down to the water while Borg-ish hi-tech coaches chatted from the shore, aboard bicycles and equipped with mikes and amps. It seems even the coxes these days are wired up for maximum communication. Suffice to say the river was alive with rowing girls.

We followed the path until we collided with Abingdon Road, choked with traffic and tourists. Our first stop was the Ashmolean Museum. This is the first museum in England and I would have classed it very highly. Unfortunately half of it is closed for "demolition" as the helpful man at the information desk informed us. 32 of the 57 rooms were inaccessible! Unfortunately the stuff we wanted to see was also, inexplicably inaccessible! Mirinda wanted to see the pre-Raphaelite work on the 2nd floor. The stairs had been boarded up so the only way is via the lift, enthusiastically indicated by a female guide. Although we were on level 1, the lift indicated it was on LG (Long Gone, perhaps?). We stepped in - Mirinda suffering - and pressed 2. The lift immediately took us down to the ground floor. We decided we'd had enough of the Ashmolean!

Still, we did manage to see the English Delfware and a remarkable bowl from the Italian renaissance period. It was created by Francesco Urbini in 1536. it is called "a composite head" and is inscribed "Every man looks at me as if I were a head of dicks" in Italian, of course. Enough said!

Website: http://www.ashmol.ox.ac.uk/

From the Ashmolean we popped over to the Playhouse to book tickets to the play on tonight then wandered up and around a bit, eventually ending up at the hidden Turk Tavern.

Before I left work on Friday, David, my boss who spent a lot of time in Oxford when he was student, gave me list of pubs I HAD to visit. The Turk was one of them. This was also recommended very highly by Ben (he works with Mirinda and we went to his wedding in Oxford a few years ago). The Turk is a brilliant pub. A great selection of real ale (I had two lovely pints of Brains Bread of Heaven while Mirinda had a half of Weston's Old Rosie Scrumpy which started melting the glass it was so strong!

The Turk is a series of higgledy piggledy rooms with low beams and a number of outside drinking/eating areas. We decided to have lunch and I supped on a delicious Cumberland sausage and mash while Mirinda claimed her scampi and chips was perfect. A brilliant pub that I wouldn't recommend…for fear it would get far too crowded! Suffice to say it's not that easy to find.

From here it was but a spit to New College for a nosey around. It was founded in 1379 (so not all that new then) by William of Wykeham, Bishop of Winchester. If you're interested, there's some nice biographical information here.

We sought out the mysteriously sign-posted Long Room only to find, when we ascended the stairs, it was just a long room…used for social functions. There were nice oak beams and the toilet was pretty impressive. Leaving the Long Room, we went into the Front Quadrangle. Someone was having a great old bash on the chapel organ which gave a rather eerie feel to the quadrangle.

After the chapel is the cloisters with some rather spooky statues lining the walls. We wandered around then back out into the real world. In the college garden is a very impressive mound called, imaginatively, The Mound. It looks like some sort of burial mound but, although some black death burials took place in the area, this wasn't used for any. The Mound is actually just decorative! Around the garden are some of the original city walls. Interestingly, the college has the responsibility to maintain this section of the wall - this was a condition of the original building permit.

Leaving the college, we then followed the city wall to Magdelan (pronounced Maudlin) College which been had recommended. Chalk and cheese, I have to say - with new College you wander aimlessly as you want and can make up all manner of history whereas at Magdelan you pay a fee and are handed a small guide.

It was really quite lovely. In the chapel is a 15th century copy of the Last Supper and very good it is to, though I'm not sure what Dan Brown would say. There was also a very annoying Italian woman with the noisiest camera in Oxford. A great way to ruin a bit of ambience. Looks like it's not just watches and mobile phones that annoy me with their intrusive chimes, it's cameras as well!

Up in the hall, which is now the college refectory, were two outstanding busts. One was of Oscar (Wilde) and the other of that great judge and formulator of laws, Lord Denning. Nice to put a face to a name I've heard SO many times. They were both members of Magdelan College. They stare across the room at each other, the one who defied and died because of the law and the other who made and changed the law, living to be 100.

Possibly the most impressive thing about Magdelan is the great tower where, every May Morning, the choir climb and sing in the dawn. Thousands apparently gather for this wonderful recital. Obviously, being a cold and wet February afternoon, the choir was somewhere else today so we had to make do with a photograph of an empty tower.

It was then time for the long walk back to the hotel. So long, in fact, that we were forced to stop off at the Head of the River pub for a pint of Jack Frost (tea for Mirinda…not a pint) before the final leg along the Thames.

Back at the Four Pillars Mirinda read while I watched the Winter Olympics until it was time to leave for the theatre.

We saw the Tabula Rosa Theatre production of a Spanish play by Lope de Vega called Fuente Ovejuna or The Sheep's Well. The title is the name of a village which is also the central character of the play. Anyway, Tabula Rosa is an AmDram group of uni students.

At the risk of sounding snobbish, I'd forgotten how bad it can be. In a cast of 26 actors, one was very good, one was ok and one was passable. The rest were all having a great time. The director (the pretentious Poppy Burton-Morgan) seemed intent on set and costume without giving her actors some depth. But then again, maybe she had.

A classic moment was when the manic Mengo (Paul Tosio - an actor of diabolical characterisation) made a remark as he exited the stage which Mirinda misheard as "We must fight the dreaded salmon steaks!" I had to stuff my fist into my mouth to stop from laughing! This could have been like the "keep your tongue in your pocket book" line' in Bernada Alba, as a little later he compared his whipped backside to a salmon steak but I can't make any real sense of it and it's such a delicious line as Mirinda heard it.

The actor who stood out most of all was Owen Findlay as the evil commander. He had great charm and an evil glint in his eye. He's studying English at Brasenose College but I reckon he could easily be a professional actor - could see him as a master criminal in The Bill.

The same could not be said for Harry Ullman. Poor Harry. He tried and tried but as an actor he makes a fantastic cupboard. But then he IS studying maths at Wadham. Heather Oliver was very good as Laurencia, the female lead.

For some reason they all attempted northern accents - some had success with this. I think it's a shame that any old play that features peasants or workers, a director seems to believe they should all sound like they come from Yorkshire. I mean why not have them all speaking with Japanese accents? They have peasants.

Overall it was not exactly boring and we managed to last the entire show - Mirinda had already taken me through her signal for leaving and my signal in response should I wish to stay as there was no interval.

We were very naughty after the play and had KFC for dinner then walked back to the hotel to sup on our bed. We watched most of My Big Fat Greek Wedding which was disappointing. Then I watched Match of the Day - Chelsea had their worst defeat in four years!!! 3-0 loss to Middlesborough! What's that all about? Apparently they used some sort of voodoo dolls…

12 February 2006 - Sunday

Thought I slept in till 8:30 but my watch was lying. I actually woke at 9:45! Down for a late breaky then back to the room to try and book a two Michelin starred restaurant for dinner.

Mirinda rang and was asked to supply her name, address, date of birth, marriage status and mobile phone number. At this point she handed the phone to me as she didn't know the number. This was obviously as I have NO idea what my mobile phone number is and I told the girl at the other end this. So expediencies sake I told the girl our home number instead. But wait, it gets even more pointless. She then wanted my credit/debit card number. I mean, come on! It's just a restaurant after all. They reckon they get a high class of clientele and their prices indicate that's all that can really afford them, but can really imagine, say, the Beckhams giving out their card number to them? I told the girl to forget it, we'd eat somewhere else. I told her I'd be writing a stern letter but actually forgot.

We have since heard (from Mirinda's boss, who regularly eats at expensive restaurants) that the food was crap anyway so we were very lucky. In order to avoid them, the restaurant is: Le Manoir aux Quat' Saisons. Raymond Blanc is the head chef and for some obscure reason he was voted the Chef's Chef of the year last year. Maybe it's for his collection of credit card numbers.

Well, having vented our spleens, we eventually drove out to Blenheim Palace on a day that was drizzly though not enough to warrant wet weather gear.

Blenheim Palace is not far (8 miles) from Oxford so it was only natural that we should pop over for tea. Plus the fact that it's yet another World Heritage site to mark off the list which appears to grow daily.

As you pass through the huge gates you are immediately presented with a grand scale of building. As you pay the girl in the little booth halfway up the driveway, you have to remember that the person who still lives up there in the big house is not 16 feet tall with a golden goose on his lap.

It really is a massive big 'ouse! There's normally a (narrow gauge) train to the front door but as it was in for repairs, we had to make do with the Portuguese version of Le Petit Train with cling-wrap windows. The car-park has been put so far from the palace so as not to be too obvious from the drive…I assume. I mean it's bad enough having the plebs wandering one's halls without having to look at their vehicles as well! Actually it's a very nice walk beside seemingly random trees dotted sparsely all over. Or it would be if it wasn't raining.

The landscaping was created by our old chum Capability brown and is on a truly grand scale. Started by the great gardener Henry Wise, it is a growing, changing canvas. The day being so miserable we skipped a lot of the outside sights. Actually we skipped everything outside except for the water terraces.

As usual we purchased a guide book and settled back for a coffee/tea and a short history lesson. John Churchill (yes, a long dead relative of Winnie's), 1st Duke of Marlborough defended Holland from the French from 1702-3 and in 1704 whooped their asses at a place on the Danube called Blindheim (or Blenheim to the illiterate fools who wrote it down). For this great victory, Queen Anne smiled and gave John the Royal Manor of Woodstock (not where the concert was in 1969) adding that she would build a house for him there. She insisted she'd pay and it should be called 'Blenheim'. There were lots of smiles and good cheer as the victorious aristos patted each other's backs and masons, carpenters and gardeners were employed. Vanbrugh, one of the great architects of his time, was brought in to design it.

Naturally a lot of cash was needed but come pay day and guess what. Queen Anne conveniently forgot about it, John refused to pay for a gift from someone else and the poor workers didn't get paid! How To Remain Very Wealthy by Lord I.M.A Rich-Bastard was one of the volumes I noticed in the extensive library.

Anyway, fast forward a few centuries and the present Lord found he couldn't manage the taxes and the upkeep so had to open the place to the descendents of the ripped off workers. So, basically not only did the original workers not get paid but their descendents are now paying the Lord!

Mirinda told one of the volunteers that my great, great grandfather was a mason and we'd come to collect his owed wages…or take up residence in one of the rooms as recompense. She said the present Lord was not in today but that they'd laid the red carpet on for my arrival. I had a hard time getting everyone else off it.

The rooms are very impressive, each different to the next except for the paintings. Rather than the usual assorted famous artworks, the walls are adorned with massive family portraits, staring down with haughty disapproval.

There's a great display on Winnie as he was born in one of the rooms and above the bed is a little framed box containing his curls from when he was 5 years old. I assume someone in the Conservative Party considered cloning him. Sir Winston also proposed to his beloved Clementine in the garden. He didn't fancy living at Blenheim, instead choosing to merely start and end his life there.

One of the most impressive rooms is the Saloon. The volunteer showed us the distinctive tromp l'oliel edging and various other impressive optical illusions in the walls and ceilings. He also bemoaned the fact that the guidebook did not give it enough room to do it proper justice.

Mirinda was very enthusiastic about the wood effect gas-fires built into the fire places. She intends to order one "the same as they have at Blenheim Palace".

We finally made our way into the Long Library. This room is as long as our entire property and at one end stands a rather sexy statue of Queen Anne facing the magnificent Willis organ at the other end. This was installed by the 8th Duke in 1891 and was being played today by the under butler at various times throughout the day. We'd timed our visit to be there for his 2:30 recital but, alas, it did not happen so we stepped outside and into the chapel.

As you step through the door of the chapel a massive tomb greets you. It is Rysbrack's monument to the 1st Duke, Duchess and their two sons. The family are at the top with History and Fame at their feet (presumptuous bastards) and their sarcophagus is crushing the dragon of Envy. I gave them a hand by strangling it a bit. The couple who walked in while Mirinda took my photo were a tad surprised.

We took our leave of the impressive marble and went to wander round the water terraces which are truly fantastic. Statues and hedges, fountains and paths; the whole thing finishing off the back of the palace beautifully. They are, apparently, reminiscent, on a smaller scale, of the Parterre d'Eau at Versailles. It took five years of planning and building from 1925. The 9th Duke worked closely with Archille Duchêne (he was an arts and crafts designer and, in 1935, decided that massive aristocratic gardens were a thing of the past and went into small, functional gardens instead) to create the perfect combination of obelisks and sphinxes, fountains and giant marble statues. Above all, this part of Blenheim is worth the visit. On a sunny day, they must be magnificent.

After the water terrace, Mirinda did a short humorous commentary as I filmed a pan shot of the palace. Then we popped into the gift shop for a few postcards (etc) before walking back to Sidney (stopping off to snap a pic of me and a tree - naturally) and driving back to the hotel.

Our return trip, however, was not without incident! Sitting at a roundabout, preparing to join the mild traffic, a young guy drove his car into a lamp post. He emerged unscathed with a look on his face which seemed to say "My God! Why does this keep happening to me?" We couldn't work out what had happened as he wasn't driving fast, there was little traffic, the conditions were fine and there was no squeal of brakes. Maybe he was talking on a mobile phone and just lost control after his girlfriend dumped him. Weird.

Back at the Four Pillars, avoiding all lamp posts, Mirinda snoozed while I watched more winter Olympics. At 7pm we watched Desperate Housewives (God I love Bree! What a scary woman!) then took ourselves down to the restaurant in the hotel (Deacons). Apparently Zoltan (who Mirinda insisted was actually called Zog) was to be our waiter though Mechanical Edward took our order and our meal was delivered by a girl whose name I missed owing to it being pinned rather obviously to her breast and my not wanting to get busted staring for all the wrong reasons. Eventually Zoltan did serve us, but as we weren't dressed very well, we were hidden away, around a corner and promptly forgotten. This meant that Zoltan didn't bother asking for a dessert order. Hey ho! Saved some money both on a course AND a tip.

13 February 2006 - Monday

Edward, last nights waiter, was on breakfast duty this morning, still appearing strangely robotic. Mirinda told him he worked too hard and he gave a knowing nod. The dining room was pleasantly devoid of crowds, being a Monday and there was a surfeit of fried eggs for which I was very pleased - I had 15.

Today it was Christchurch College's turn for a through going over. So it was off up the Thames/Isis.

The entrance fee was a whopping £4.50 but that's only when the dining hall is open. When it's in use, the price drops to £3! Because the hall was being used we managed to get in for the discount price. For this huge fee you get a lovely guide book and lots of bowler hated guys at each part of the tour.

In order to reach the cathedral, we had to walk around the sides of the massive Tom Quadrangle, windows stare down. Included are a number from which Lewis Carroll could once be seen as he moved rooms a bit.

The oldest part of the college is the Cathedral, dedicated to St Frideswide. She is the patroness of Oxford and Oxford University. She died around 735AD having lived a life of perpetual virginity. Apparently Prince Algar didn't believe her and sought to change her mind. She fled and remained hidden near Oxford for three years and poor Algar was struck blind. At this point the prince gave up chasing her and she returned, praying for his sight to be returned, which it was. Naturally. The cathedral is also the smallest in England.

At the door we were accosted by an amazing set of facial hair. This guy was excellent. He recited for us the famous Dr Fell ditty - created by a student who didn't know why he disliked Dr Fell…but he did.

I do not like thee Dr. Fell.
The reason why I cannot tell.
But this I know and I know full well,
I do not like thee Dr. Fell.

We wandered round the place, marvelling at its loveliness. St Frideswide's shrine is given pride of place. It was built in 1289 then destroyed by Henry VIII at the Reformation. It was smashed then chucked down a well. In 1889 it was found and put back together.

Burne-Jones (the Pre-Raphaelite artist) designed quite a few of the stained glass windows including a figure of St Catherine of Alexandria. She was an excellent choice of subject as she may have been a romantic fiction created by the Greeks in the 9th century - just the right sort of appeal for a Pre-Raphaelite. Anyway, this Catherine has the face of Edith Liddell, Alice's sister who sat for Burne-Jones while her father was Dean of the college.

On our way out we were once more accosted by Mr Jolly-Hair. He asked, rather secretly, whether we'd heard of Alice in Wonderland(!). He then shuffled over to a curtain and disappeared inside, rattling keys around until a little door opened revealing a beautiful garden. This was the private garden where Alice and Edith would play. And, in a building beyond the garden wall, Lewis Carroll would watch them. The wall is dominated by a big old chestnut tree. Very often, Dinah, Alice's cat would sit on a big branch and it was this sight that was the inspiration for the Cheshire cat grinning in the tree.

We thanked the lovely man profusely - not everyone was shown this special place. For a major Alice fan like me, it was extra special.

Leaving the cathedral we walked across to the dinning hall - lunch having finished…or breakfast. There's an interesting if somewhat painstaking piece of graffiti at the foot of the hall stairs. Someone took the trouble to spell out 'NO PEEL' using metal studs rather than paint. This referred to Sir Robert Peel who, in 1829 proposed greater freedom for Catholics. Not sure for what.

The hall is exactly as it should be, long dark wooden tables with a small stage at one end. All dark and gloomy with little bank lights set in the centre of the tables. We wandered up and down checking out the portraits of the various deans. Harry Potter was filmed here - the meal scenes - and there's a lot of Alice stuff scattered around if you know where to look.

The fire-dogs, for instance, are supposed to be the inspiration for Alice's growing tall and her neck stretching away. There is also a stained glass window with many of Tenniel's drawings incorporated into it. Alice's father, the Dean, would disappear from the high table every night down a secret spiral staircase, just like the White Rabbit down the hole.

The most amazing thing about the hall is the portrait of Dr Strange. Artists from all over the world come here to try and figure out how the artist did it. We all know of paintings where the eyes follow you round the room but in this portrait the entire head moves! It's true! As you walk by, eyes turned towards the painting, the heads seems to move and remain facing you. Very freaky and no-one knows how or why it happens.

More than happy, we left Christchurch and accidentally stumbled on The Bear, another recommended (by David & Ben) drinking establishment. Being 11am, Mirinda only had a cup of tea but I figured it was well after lunch in Singapore, so I had a pint of Brakspear. The pub has been around since the 17th century and before that was an ostler's house NEXT to a tavern which dated back to 1242!

The pub has no right angles and has only a couple of small rooms around the bar. It also has an amazing collection of over 4,500 ties. These were given in the early 1950s by celebs and others in exchange for free beer. The ties are all neatly labelled and displayed in glass cases. There are signs everywhere stating that the practice of free beer for ties is no longer an option. I assume this is because there's no more room for any more ties.

After an energising beer, I left Mirinda to rummage through the exciting undercover market while I climbed the Carfax Tower. The original tower was built around 1032 and was part of the Church of St Martin. The present tower, however, is the only surviving part of a mediaeval church from around the 13th century. In 1896 the church was demolished, leaving the tower for us silly tourists to climb! The name 'Carfax' is from the Latin for 'four-forked' or the Norman French for 'four ways. This is because it was once the heart of Oxford with the roads spread out north, south, east and west beneath it.

The climb was up a narrow, steep, continuous spiral tunnel you ended up on a wooden timber strip running beside the lead roof of the tower itself. The spires of Oxford are very obvious from this vantage point. They thrust up in every direction from between the modern buildings. I'm sure it looks fantastic on a bright sunny day.

Anyway, I looked then zipped back down, met Mirinda then went to Debenhams so she could find a loo! Actually I left her to Debs and popped into St Mary Magdalen's church while she did. It stands outside the original city walls and, apparently was burnt down by Vikings around 1010. This was because it was made of wood and we know how much they loved a barbi. In 1074 a chapel was built on the original foundations by Robert d'Oilli (I assume he had frilly bits around his edges and was used for tea cups). Richard the Lionheart was quite keen on the place and allowed the parish to fly a standard with the crescent and star, to mark his 3rd crusade.

There are some interesting bits and pieces in the church, including an elaborate font from around 1350 (still used for baptisms) and a wooden chest which dates from the 14th century. This chest was damaged by a prisoner during the Civil War so Charles I, for some reason, ordered it be repaired in 1643. For this reason (I'm guessing) the church remained staunchly Royalist throughout the Cromwell years.

But I couldn't hang around studying church history all afternoon! I met Mirinda and we darted into a nearby Costas for a coffee before moving down to St Michael's at the North Gate to hear William Carslake (baritone) sing Bach, Handel and Purcell. My God! It was beautiful. A beautiful voice in a beautiful church singing beautiful music. For his final song, William suggested we close our eyes ("Close ye now, ye weary eyelids…"). I did and it was worth it. Although he was singing in German, it didn't matter, the feeling came through. Peace was there behind my eyelids, safe before his lullaby. He received a resounding applause from the meagre audience. If you are ever in Oxford and see 'Free lunch time concert at St Michael's at the North Gate' go along, it's fantastic! Nice choice Mirinda!

From St Michael's it was but a spit to the Eagle and Child but Mirinda decided we should go via a giant detour to Oxford Castle - a weird spot dedicated to various County Hall buildings, ancient mounds and trendy restaurants. Having scouted out somewhere trendy to eat we hiked back to the pub.

The Eagle and Child is where, every Tuesday morning between 1939 and 1962, JRR Tolkien, CS Lewis and other writers, known collectively as the 'Inklings' would meet to discuss, debate and chat about orcs and elves and talking lions. I was a bit disappointed with the selection of ales (I had a Broadside) and the back part (built in the late 1950s) was a bit erky. Still, the landlord seemed a jolly chap and the place is very popular.

After a drink we left for the covered market where Mirinda had found a café she fancied for a very late lunch. A panini and nachos later we left, heading back for the hotel via the Alice Shop (of course) which I'm sure has moved since the last time we were in Oxford.

Dinner was eaten in our room (good old room service) as we couldn't be bothered going out again. Food was yum, telly was great.

14 February 2006 - Tuesday

A nice and easy two hour dive home then a short trip to pick up the insane puppies. A lovely long weekend, thoroughly enjoyed.