Iffley

 Oxford likes its walls.

25 November 2014

Today's rain kept us inside.  Jack spent time on his rowing machine, which spat out fourteen more ball bearings by the time he was finished.  I did some strength training with the resistance band I'd packed; this is first I've used it since I got here. Oops.   We had breakfast and lunch in the house. I did go up and down two flights of stairs over and over and over again because the washer and dryer are in the basement.  But other than that, I sat, making jewelry. Jack sat, too, deep into his work.  My beads aligned into a multi-strand bracelet.  Then it became a necklace. Then I wasn't sure.

By 3:30 I couldn't take it any more.  It was still raining a little, but I didn't care.  I needed to walk outside. So we suited up and went west, to the village of Iffley, which is, we think, still Oxford.

The houses are behind walls.

Meadows are behind walls.

At the far end of the village is St. Mary's Church.  Most of the gravestone carvings have worn off, and both sides are covered with lichens.

The door to the church was open.  We went in.

We were greeted by a woman who had been sitting in a pew.  She told us that the church was built in the 12th century, funded by a wealthy woman in the village.  The ornate details, she said, were possible because the church is so close to the Thames:  It was easy to bring in supplies and workers.  She gave us some more history, told us what button to push if the lights went out, and left.  We looked around a little longer.  On a bulletin board I found a picture of the woman among a group of volunteers.

"Got a five?"  Jack asked.  He wanted to make a donation towards the church's upkeep.  "Old buildings like this are in constant need of attention," he said.  I dug five pounds out of my wallet.  As Jack slipped the bill into a metal slot on the wall, the lights went out.  The church got all it needed from us; it was time to go.

The entrance to St. Mary's

More graveyard:

Downtown Iffley:

I counted one church, one hotel, two pubs, and one shop.

The walk had cleared our heads.  We got back to work. The necklace went back to being a bracelet. When I asked if he'd accomplished much today, Jack said, "I moved stuff around."

At 7:45 we went out again, this time to meet a friend at the Magdalen Arms pub on the Iffley Road.  This is where the black kitty was a few nights ago.  We hoped to see him again, but it was raining, and kitty had other plans.  We did find out his name, though:  Lolo.  "Don't take him!" the bartender implored.

Despite the rain, we walked home.

We have plans for tomorrow.  We're going back to London, never mind the rain.