I knew the moment I saw them that it was going to be an interesting night. Lots and lots of youth pouring into the youth hostel. Makes sense, doesn't it? They were full of energy, gorgeous, and noticing of one another. Under the authority of an authoritative personage, I hoped she would have a taming affect. I went to sleep with that hope.
It was shattered in the night by the shrieking of a fire alarm. The fire alarm had an audio connection to every room in the place to make sure no one slept through it. They didn't. While it shrieked, exuberant voices were heard shouting and laughing and stomping by. Doors were banged on. Hideous noises were made. I was just dragging myself out of bed when the alarm stopped and the 'all clear' was given. A voice ordered everyone to their rooms. Things settled, became quiet. I slept.
None of these shenanigans made for happy thoughts. Still, the second day in Oxford had to be a good one. I had taken the time and trouble to be here and was determined. So I scoped out the city from the top of a double decker. I saw the rains begin. I watched carefully for the Ashmolean Museum to appear, and then hopped off to make a dash for it. A very satisfying place to be during a rain shower! The antiquities were astounding and I was surprised to find that admission was free:
Next, I visited the Church of St Mary the Virgin, where Thomas Cranmer, Archbishop of Canterbury and writer of the Book of Common Prayer, had been tried and condemned to death for heresy:
The massive column next to which he had stood to deliver his final sermon, is hung with a portrait of him, and the description of his death. On a street nearby a cross is superimposed into the pavement where he, Latimer and Ridley were burned at the stake. It is a very moving story, one far too detailed to share here. I encourage any dear Reader who would like to find out more.
After this, I climbed the 120 steps to the top of the Tower of the church, up to a dizzying height:
The Radcliffe Camera from the top:
Another view:
View of the steps going down: Yikes!
Christ's Church Cathedral for their sung Evensong:
Attending Evensong was the pinnacle of this beauty of a day: Attendees eager and waiting to enter; small choir boys solemnly filing in, ready to sing (one slightly naughty looking one! blond hair rather mussed, eyes bright and dancing across at someone (I didn't see who); the voices of the young men supporting and surrounding the sweet child voices they themselves once had; the cultured voice of the white-robed woman who read the lessons. Candlelight. All beautiful, all such a sweet privilege to be near.
Oxford.
See you along the way!
the SconeLady
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