A day out

Friday, December 11th., Chiltern Court, London.

 

To Oxford today for a day out. Dorothy is away doing theatrical things and I needed a break from routine to get some fresh ideas. Also some good bookshops in Oxford!

 

Journey was simple and as I stepped out of the station the sun broke through the grey clouds which had shrouded the day until then. Bit milder than of late. Decided to have a walk about to stretch the legs before starting to visit shops. Came upon a stretch of canal in Jericho with numerous moored boats, evidently lived upon. Bit of a damp existence to my mind but I suppose it has some advantage of anonymity. Then I worked my way along a river, not part of the Thames I think, past the prison which is in the old castle. Pretty forbidding, which is as it should be. Finally came out on Folly Bridge and got onto the Thames towpath by Christ Church Common. Watched some rowers who seemed not to notice that they were cold. Then back into the city near to the Botanical Garden, High Street I think. Nice walk. Don't know if I could find it again. There seem to be a lot of waterways in Oxford.

 

Looked in at the Bodleian, but only to take a breath of the bookish atmosphere, and then into Blackwell's for a good browse. Lovely. I didn't buy anything but I enjoyed not buying things. Eggs Florentine for lunch with a good pot of tea and then into the Ashmolean. Bit overwhelming, so I confined myself to the Mediterranean sections: Mesopotamia, Crete, Cyprus, Greece, Rome. Many reminders of my sailing tour of the Med., especially the Minoan exhibits associated with Arthur Evans. Having seen Knossos I was able to make more sense of them. Cuneiform writing is fascinating: aesthetically pleasing as well as functional; as I have always aspired to. There is an excellent Cast Gallery. Makes one think about the Greek and Roman cities filled with all these amazing statues. Apparently many of them were actually painted in bright colours, not the austere marble we are used to.

Felt tired out after about two hours and in any case it was getting dark, so back to the station and home. Very good. Well worth the effort. I didn't get any ideas but I think I may tomorrow.

A suit of day pyjamas

Sunday, December 24th., Cadogan Square, London.

Somebody told me that it is Christmas tomorrow but I don't intend to let that spoil my present mood of contentment.

I have recently returned (yesterday as a fact) from a short holiday at Oxford. Not every person's idea of a holiday destination I will admit but it has comfortable hotels, green spaces for walking, several excellent museums and, most importantly, bookshops. Hard to beat as far as I am concerned.

I managed to arrange a conducted tour of the Bodleian Library which was fascinating. Wonderful smell amongst the ancient books. Regrettably not enough time to sit down and browse. A number of historic books were exhibited for visitors, including several which are over a thousanf years old; barely conceivable! Written and illustrated by scribes on parchment they seemed almost as fresh as when first completed such is the care with which they have been kept. Regrettably handling was not permitted. Such was not the case however at Blackwell's Bookshop where I found a number of interesting volumes on archaeology, a subject of particular interest to me at present.

Strolled in the University Park and around Christ Church Meadow. Rather bleak at this time of year, but good to get some air after immersion in the middle ages.

Visited the Ashmolean, the Natural History Museum and the Pitt Rivers Collection. Only a short time in each but enough to savour the individual atmosphere each possesses. I hope to make a longer visit so as to do justice to them.

Of course one of the chief desirabilities of a holiday is that mechanical daily habits should be broken. If for instance you are acustomed, as many of us are, to the daily morning grind and bore of physical exercises, deep breathing, and all the elaborate rigmarole of the toilet, you should be able, on an ideal holiday, to abolish the entire ceremonial. On an ideal holiday the house ought to be so warm, the climate so warm, and the existence so informal that a suit of day pyjamas could be worn without anything else. To think of the sensation of freedom if you could bathe casually and carelessly, and live for the rest of the day in those pyjamas. Well, a woman could do this, and some occasionally do, but not a man. The ideal holiday is impossible for men!