Park&Ride is definitely the way to go if you're travelling to Oxford by car. It costs GBP 5 for two people to park for up to 16 hours, and take the bus to the city and back.



We had three reasons for visiting: To catch up with a former student of mine, who has been studying for her Master's; to visit the Kafka exhibition that's currently on at the Weston Library (marking the centenary of his death); and to indulge in a little nostalgia.

Taking these in reverse order:

1.

Towards the end of the 1980s, we lived for just over a year in a village called Bampton, which is about 20 miles from Oxford. I briefly taught in the city when we first arrived in the area, at one of those language schools that you end up preferring to forget. But even after that, when I had a job elsewhere, Oxford made for a pleasant day out. In those days before internet, Blackwells was the best place to buy foreign-language literature, and most expeditions ended with a book-acquisition spree.

I remembered the golden stone, the ornate carving -- and, frankly, little else...



This time round, we took in several other points of interest:





The press of tourists is definitely greater than we remember. And it's not even high summer...

2.

The Kafka exhibition was excellent. We signed up for one of the free tours, which gave an interesting overview, plus plenty of time to peer at the individual exhibits (there'll be more on this on The Velvet Cushion shortly).


The Bodleian Library holds the majority of the author's papers, and the story of how they got there is fairly miraculous (they reached Oxford via Prague, Tel Aviv, and Zurich, and covered the last stretch in a Fiat 500...).


3.

It was a real pleasure meeting up with my former student. She took us to the 15th-century Divinity School:



We had scones at Vaults & Garden, the picturesque cafe that gets an anachronistic but well-deserved plug in Rebecca Kuang's Babel:




We followed this up with a sneak peak at the Taylorian:



Lastly to Christ Church, where the golden light means it's time for evensong:



LOVED the sung service... A wonderful choir, and atmosphere in abundance. You can't help but feel you're surrounded by hosts of worshippers from bygone eras:



And then, back on the bus...

A couple more F&B shout-outs, before I close. Love Coffee stood out not just for its coffee but for its warm, genuinely welcoming staff. And the Tick Tock Cafe is just lovely. My Greek salad was spot on; Nigel's vegan brekkie was very tastily different and interesting:



It was a good day, and a thought-provoking day. I guess I've always been slightly conflicted about Oxford (and concerns like mine roll thunderously around Babel). It's a beautiful place, full of history, full of learning, full of atmosphere. Yet it's hard to penetrate, even for those who by rights should be insiders. There's a certain contingent that fits right in, but many of the rest, with their different profiles, can find themselves running along behind. Kuang notes how Robin, Babel's hero, "could not help but envy those boys -- those born into this world, who uttered its codes as native speakers". That sentiment surely reflects the experience of many. You also feel the disproportion at play -- and again this is full-centre in Kuang's book -- in a place that boasts more than 90 libraries... It doesn't take much of a leap of imagination to reflect on the disparity between this super-abundance and the struggles faced by so many other universities to gather even minimal resources. "For whosoever hath, to him shall be given, and he shall have more abundance..."

It was also a reminder that I really do miss my students... They're really the only aspect of my old job that I miss. Research I can still do, so there's no need to miss that. Publishing, conference-going, pen-pushing? There's absolutely nothing to miss there. But meaningful contact with a younger demographic? Yes, I'd appreciate more of that. If only to stop my pessimism taking over. I don't think I used to be guilty of alarmism or "presentism". Context, a long view, a sense of history -- they were always my watchwords. But now I feel as though I'm seeing international society crumbling before our very eyes. I've accepted, almost fatalistically, that things are going to get worse, probably much worse. But young people don't have the luxury of fatalism. They don't have the luxury of thinking, "I don't know how to fix this unholy mess." I think I need more of their dynamism in my life.

All in all, a very rich first "real" day of the trip. Much to ponder.