Oxford — Blog — Roaming with Roth

THE CHURCH BELLS TOLL
October 23, 2023

It is nearly 6 AM in Oxford. A bus carrying no passengers whisks silently by outside our Bed and Breakfast. I hear nothing at all. Like the tail of a comet, dashing lights whiz by like a story-tale mirage, leaving a faint, ambiguous trail and ghost-like impression of empty seats. Not as one might expect on a Monday morning.

There is not that urban rush as in New York, London, or any major city. Even at the earliest hours in those cities you experience the obligatory “Monday has arrived”, once morning ascends. And, too, following our 60 day journey, this realization that “the end has arrived” is our obligatory morning awakening. We will be taking our unclean and bedraggled clothing and stuffing them into plastic bags and shoving the bags into our luggage. Our toiletries go into plastic zip-lock bags. We stuff our large pieces of luggage with the majority of what we left with calculating what we need for the next day or so that go into our backpacks. We mostly packed last night to minimize what we take onboard with us. We will be driving to Heathrow Airport soon, drop off the car, and head to our room at one of the airport hotels to dawdle and idle away the last hours before boarding early tomorrow morning. I will take that time to review feelings and photos. I will share some of both.

**Sunrise from our patio window in East Chisenbury**

This has been a remarkable time for us. It is the first time we have traveled since 2020 and the imposition of Covid. We are the fortunate ones. We survived. We are the ones who were hardly inconvenienced despite our inconveniences. We are the ones who laughed and danced through the sequestration. We are the ones who did not feel the discomfort or pain. The ones who breathed fresh air walking the sparsely populated streets alone. We are the ones who, visiting the supermarket with masks, moved sideways, like approaching autos on a narrow street move to the side to allow passage, as another rolled a cart down the aisle. Picking up medications, we stood on designated circles advising us of social distancing. We were the ones who called restaurants for “take-away” [as they say here in place of “to-go”], and who sat in our cars lowering our windows to allow for the bag with our meals to be passed. It was the absence of concern about being close that grabbed me. Our interactions were close. Our conversations were close. Our dining was close. The movement on the streets was close, even crowded at times. No masks. Nothing between you and a breath - not a bob or weave or duck or sideways bobble. I think even the “Post Pandemic Diary” has ended. On to the next phase.

**Bibury, considered by many the prettiest village in England.**

I am overjoyed by the splendid receptions we received. There is something about the British accent that is so engaging and I suspect, so utterly influential in one’s attitude and demeanor. They are a clever lot. When they want to joke, their accent seems to lend itself to humor. If you were to close your eyes, the British accent would automatically make you laugh at the punch line. There is an acute sideways glance to the intonation. If you were listening to a British woman or man, you might fall in love as they read a John Donne sonnet, so restrained with pent up emotion. This morning I listened to Richard Burton’s reading of Dylan Thomas’s “Under The Milkwood”, and felt the world around me glimmer with hope and salvation. When you meet a Brit, you will be inclined to thoroughly be arrested by the immediacy, wit and receptivity of their grip. They are not merely tolerant of tourists, they are benevolent. They have not been the least condescending. They have always been accessible and wildly helpful.

**This edifice is said to have influenced the writing of a great piece of literature. See the next picture after you have guessed author and title.**

In attitude I have found Brits to be jovial. Jovial, to me, is happy with an upturned tonality. The British accent is naturally sardonic, curiously empathetic, mildly ironic, if sometimes covertly dark, yet, ending with an upward lilt. A young woman with a British accent is deliciously attractive and alluring; a young man, [so I’m told] is divinely and gently masculine. These are, of course, generalizations, but we were both taken in and even though not a barometer of veracity we were happy to be foiled if that were the case.

**J.R.R. Tolkien used these towers as inspiration for “The Lord of The Rings” trilogy. These are The Twin Towers of All Saints College.**

**The most photographed site in Oxford - The Bridge of Tears.**

We have arrived at Heathrow, have checked into our room, and are upstairs at the rooftop lounge. Every plane taking off ticks off the time for which we depart. My brain right now is beating faster than my heart. I must quiet myself knowing that our flight is about one half of the earth’s rotation. Being that I am willing to trust as far as the next day, I will sleep peacefully.