26 October - Oxford Shire

Today and tomorrow its Oxfordshire: the Cotswolds (see map), and the Duke of Marlborough.

If my trip here has a theme its shaping up to be the relationship between the old and the new. Perhaps in London the feeling is one of exploiting the historic places: shoring them up and charging entry to hordes of video-cam toting tourists. In Oxfordshire businessmen and women give way to students, and the tourists are much more Britons seeing their own country: the history seems to be embraced, restored and celebrated.

I travelled from London by the (confusingly named) Oxford Tube bus arriving in Oxford about 1:15, on the 26th. Instructions from the bus company were to then catch the 1:20pm "X59" bus. Sounding very much like a secret formula, certainly the bus driver on the London-Oxford leg had never heard of it. After much inquiry eventually I had to resign myself that I had missed it.

Contacting our man in London, Mr Hurlock, I received fresh briefings, and headed off by Virgin Train to Banbury. Riding a Virgin Train to Banbury Cross sounded like a new take on the childhood poem but was very fast and comfortable - 20 minutes as opposed to the 1hr odd that the apocryphal X59 was alleged to take.

In Banbury I met a friend who lived in nearby Farthingoe, with her husband and two kids. Out her kitchen window is a grassed yard and treetops in the distance. Very different from Longon. By the time we reached home base it was dusk, and after dinner I got to bed early for a early start the next day.

I had glimpsed a few times in my travels to Oxfordshire the brightly coloured canal boats, and was keen to see them. Our first stop was Thrupp, on the Oxford canal.

Originally the arteries of industrial Britain the canals now provide a stately and scenic way to travel the country. The brightly coloured boats are in many cases lavishly appointed, and navigate locks and bridges across Britain.

Adjacent to the canal are inns, and farmhouses. Here I got a rare chance to talk to one of the locals doing some maintenance on his dry-wall bordering his lands. These dry-wall stone constructions are an amazing feature of the area, marching for miles and miles across hills and around fields.

Here the height of the wall, which might have been built to keep stock in, is extended by a windbreak of reeds.

The gentleman I spoke to, shown here repairing a stretch of wall, using recycled stone from old walls, told me that the walls can be destroyed by ivy. The walls were originally built without any cement, or with just a capping of it; since concrete was not always known except where it was bought in by invading Romans.

In the sketch the front surface of the wall is being built up to the height of the rear; and to the right it is being backfilled with slurry and broken stone. In traditional dry-wall there would have been no cement but the two faces of the wall would be tied together with larger through-stones, and perhaps backfilled with earth.

Next stop is the village of Woodstock, and Blenheim Palace.

In these shots taken on the high street of Woodstock, old ivy takes over the facade of a building.

We'd parked in the high street, and now walked to the walls of Blenheim Palace, the residence of the Duke of Marlborough. We didnt want to pay the tarrif or take the time to tour the interior but a bracing walk through the grounds gave a more than adequate impression of the Marlboroughs regal residence.

The path through the grounds in places runs near the village, and here over the perimeter wall we can see the "Black Prince" pub in Woodstock.

Here the wall a bit closer is of course of dry wall construction, around Blenheim palace to a good 6-7 feet in height, and with a projecting detail suggestive of a frieze near the top. Over the wall the rooves of houses in Woodstock are visible.

Onward around the paved ways circuiting the Queen Pool the Palace is visible through the autumn trees over the water.

Yellow and orange leaves whipped up by the chill wind, dance like shakespearean sprite on the path ahead. Up on the brow of the hill to our right as we turn and approach the palace the Victory Column is visible; and a man flying a kite is silhouetted.

At the gate, the column is on an axis behind us, and a grand procession into the palace forecourt ahead. Through the gates in the next shots we see the stables at the right of the forecourt; and a collonade joining the palace proper to the stables fronts an area now designated as the Palace Chapel shop.

Walking around to the main vehicle approach the Flagstaff main entrance is protected by wrought iron gates.

In this close view the coat of arms of the Duke of Marlborough appears with two Wyverns rampant, in gold.

After the kids had a ride on the Palace train to visit the Pleasure gardens in the grounds, we repaired for lunch in a nearby pub. Bolstered by some hot food, we jumped in our motor, and headed off for the Cotswolds.

This area, one of the quaintest of Englands country-side idylls, has towns such as Chipping Norton and Chipping Campden. Locals and authorities must have gone to extraordinary lengths to maintain the character of the place. Even petrol stations have traditional roofing and stonework, to fit with the look of the Cotswolds.

This shot shows a house just inside Chipping Campden with a thatched roof. The thatch is thick bundles of twigs or water reeds, held in place traditionally by ties, but latterly by chicken wire. Restoration and maintenance efforts are wonderfully effective (here mentioning work in Norfolk) and in this next shot we see the restored Chipping Campden market.

Originally built in 1627 by Sir Baptist Hicks, it was bought for the National Trust in 1942 and subsequently re-roofed and restored. Here we see the slate tiles and timber beams, rafters and purlins.

Moving on again through the Cotswolds area, we next stopped in Broadway. Like Chipping Campden, there were everywhere quaint buildings and quirky features that could have occupied reams of photographs and drawings.

We went for afternoon tea at the Lygon Arms which is a hotel with 500 or more years of history.

Extended and restored over the years, the Lygon Arms at its central construction was built in 1532 as an Inn.

In the foyer flagstones perhaps walked by King Charles in the 16th Century, are polished smooth by hundreds of years of feet. The concierges office is below the level of this floor through a hatch, shown toward the right of this sketch. The wooden mantle to its left, like the servery hatch is at variances with horizontal, perhaps due to subsidence and decay of the hundreds of years.

The sandstone walls are of all different sized stones, and timber beams and lintels are hand-adzed and weathered to haphazard angles. The beams are arrised and in some places fixed with wedges. Plaster and pitch cover gaps between beams.

The facade and exterior of the Inn are fascinating. Built onto the gable stonework, we can see a sundial. Perhaps for the traveller to London to guage time for trips.

In this sketch is a detail on a high up on a facade gable at the rear court on a North facing wall. I think this is most likely a vent to the roof space behind, and it depicts an angelic host behind a traveller or guest at the Inn providing them shelter and protection from ills.

After the wonderful hospitality of the Lygon Arms, we headed back across out of the Cotswolds to Farthingoe. Ironically enough we spotted the X59 bus rattling through the countryside like a spectral vision.

After a delicious curry from a local shop, I boarded train and bus back to London.

Next: 28 October - Saint Pauls