Oxford Canal
26 December 2024
I’m still in the air over the Atlantic Ocean. Did I mention that the seat I’m in has a shoulder strap seatbelt?
The events in this post took place December 17.
We ate breakfast in the hotel, in a space that’s a restaurant in the morning, a lounge during the day, and a bar at night. It’s called the Library, because it used to be London’s Camden Council library. There are books. There is that brand of intrusive hotel music that, on a good day, might consist of up to three notes.
While I was at it, I took some pictures of the ground floor. This is the reception desk.
This is an elevator about to open. Behind me was a mirror. There’s a mirror in the back of the elevator too. I deleted that picture because I was in it.
When we got to our floor, I stepped to the side in the hallway, where there was no mirror.
We took a train to Oxford. Jack lived here for a semester in 2014. He’s quite fond of the place. The train station is not in the city center. We walked along the canal to get to where we were scheduled to meet one of Jack’s friends for lunch. This canal connects to the Regent’s Canal in London.
“Please do not allow your dog to foul this area.” Where’s the QR code for legit fouling locations?
Our first order of business was to go to the Lloyd’s bank to try to reactivate or close an account Jack had while he was living here. Now that he no longer had a UK address, he could not access the account, which was linked to a phone number he could no longer access because he needed a UK bank account to keep minutes on the phone. We were told he’d need to present his passport and proof of address, like a bank statement. The proof would have to be a printout rather than a screenshot. So we’d have to find out of the hotel could print a statement for us.
The friend we met for lunch works on the Oxford English Dictionary at the Oxford University Press. He offered us a tour.
On our way over, we passed a sign affixed to a fence bordering a park. “Fly tipping: it’s a criminal offence.”
Being an American who thinks visually, my mind went straight to cow-tipping. It was obvious from the photos of trash bag piles that “fly tipping” in England means drive-by garbage-tossing. Being around lexicographers, I had great fun pondering the literal words and the delicate maneuvering required to knock over a fly.
Inside, we were led to the filing cabinets loaded with cards containing definitions and word usage going back to the first edition of the dictionary. Jack, of course, had too look up “moose.”
There were shelves of books from which usages were gleaned, including Roxane Gay’s Hunger.
“Fat-shaming” was highlighted. I realized that this was a book I’d been meaning to read since it came out.
I went looking for Irvine Welsh.
“Palsy-walsy.”
Words of the year for the last decade?
We left Jack’s friend to get back to work. We’d entered and exited from the side of the press building. The front, from which nobody emerges, was much more majestic.
Oxford University likes its gates. Nearly all the university buildings are walled or fenced off.
We spent some time in the Covered Market. Jack found a bookstore there. I spied a chocolate shop next door and scored some more hard-to-find English sweets.
There were a couple more bookstores, one run by Oxfam, and one called Blackwell’s that was immense. I found Roxane Gay’s book there.
It was dark when we emerged. There was a small holiday fair on one of the side streets.
Somewhere in there we had a snack at the country’s oldest coffee house. Dinner was at a fancy restaurant across from All Souls College, where Jack had stayed.
We walked the mile back to the train station. Against a wall was a receptacle for used chewing gum. “Recycle gum here,” said a sign above a gumball-shaped bin. There was a QR code and a web link to follow to find out what was being made from chewed gum.
If you are so inclined, you can order a personal chewed-gum holder that fits on your keychain.
Okay! We’ve been in the air for 5 hours now! One more blog post at least…
No comments:
Post a Comment