Saxons, bells, Elias Ashmole, and me
Apr. 16th, 2013 06:07 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hawkwing_lbAnother night on the air mattress, another day wandering around Oxford and eating too much coffee-shop lunch.
I bought gyros from a terrible Greek takeaway and ate half of it on Magdalen Bridge before throwing the other half away. Not the worst gyros I've ever eaten - but decidedly not that good.
The sun shone. (Yay!) And it's a straight shot down High Street to St. Michael's at the North Gate and then turn right down the Cornmarket to where the Ashmolean may be found. Along the High Street I passed a delightful shop, Whittard's of Chelsea, which had both a nice man behind the counter, gorgeous flavoured hot chocolate powders and tasty instant teas. "WANT!" said I to myself. "Aeroplane weight limits," said myself to I.
So I just tasted the free hot samples. (Nom.) And regretfully ambled along. (I may have to buy another piece of luggage and check it in. Because WANT. Would this be so bad?) (Okay, I really probably can't afford that. BUT STILL.)
St. Michael's North Gate wasn't a place I knew of before setting out. But when I passed it, there were signs for the Saxon Tower (a nice bit of early medieval stonework, that), so I went inside. It's a nice little church, well-maintained, very friendly in that peculiar gently Christian-but-not-pushy Anglican way. I lucked out, in a sense, going up the Tower (two pound entry students, and the nice wee girl in the giftshop didn't even ask to see my card) - there was a guy from East London up doing something to the clock and the bells, so as I was going up past the bells they were being rung in turn. It's a sensation you feel in your bowel and your belly, the voices of great bronze bells.
The view isn't as striking as the one from the Sheldonian cupola, but there are some very interesting rooftops visible from up there. I'll have to go into Mary-the-Virgin church next.
The Ashmolean Museum is off Beaumont St., at the far end of the Cornmarket. Founded by Elias Ashmole, antiquarian and alchemist, in the late 17th century, its original premises were located on Broad St. It moved to its new premises in the last decade of the 19th century, and within the last decade it's been refurbished and its galleries expanded. And it seems to be one of the few things in Oxford that's free to enter.
It's fucking shiny. Now, mind you, collections of Greek and Roman antiquities fail to astound me these days, after Athens. But the Ashmolean was at one point directed by Sir Arthur Evans. Its prehistoric collections are sexy: it has material from Nimrud and Jericho, from Knossos and Cyprus (Hi, A.G. Leventis Gallery! The Leventis foundation gets everywhere, which is excellent for Cypriot material in collections abroad), and a goodly store of Egyptian antiquities to boot, including the mummy of Menesamun, a female musician.
And pots. I love pots. POTS POTS POTS. LET ME FONDLE YOU. (Alas, no fondling allowed. But SO MANY DIFFERENT KINDS OF POTS.)
The Islamic art is also impressive, if not quite as numerous on display: I have a great fondness for medieval Persian decorative arts. There is Mongol art, and Tang dynasty camel ceramics, Mughal paintings, Tibetan Buddhas, Buddhist deities. A dancing Ganesha, who looked delightfully happy.
I didn't get up to the rest of the collections. My feet gave out, so - after drooling over this book among others in the museum shop, I hied off to Waterstones for a sandwich and a cake in the café.
This tourism lark is tiring. (And expensive.) I should have a nap, and recruit my strength...
This entry was originally posted at http://hawkwing-lb.dreamwidth.org/558188.html. There are
comments there. Comment where you like.
I bought gyros from a terrible Greek takeaway and ate half of it on Magdalen Bridge before throwing the other half away. Not the worst gyros I've ever eaten - but decidedly not that good.
The sun shone. (Yay!) And it's a straight shot down High Street to St. Michael's at the North Gate and then turn right down the Cornmarket to where the Ashmolean may be found. Along the High Street I passed a delightful shop, Whittard's of Chelsea, which had both a nice man behind the counter, gorgeous flavoured hot chocolate powders and tasty instant teas. "WANT!" said I to myself. "Aeroplane weight limits," said myself to I.
So I just tasted the free hot samples. (Nom.) And regretfully ambled along. (I may have to buy another piece of luggage and check it in. Because WANT. Would this be so bad?) (Okay, I really probably can't afford that. BUT STILL.)
St. Michael's North Gate wasn't a place I knew of before setting out. But when I passed it, there were signs for the Saxon Tower (a nice bit of early medieval stonework, that), so I went inside. It's a nice little church, well-maintained, very friendly in that peculiar gently Christian-but-not-pushy Anglican way. I lucked out, in a sense, going up the Tower (two pound entry students, and the nice wee girl in the giftshop didn't even ask to see my card) - there was a guy from East London up doing something to the clock and the bells, so as I was going up past the bells they were being rung in turn. It's a sensation you feel in your bowel and your belly, the voices of great bronze bells.
The view isn't as striking as the one from the Sheldonian cupola, but there are some very interesting rooftops visible from up there. I'll have to go into Mary-the-Virgin church next.
The Ashmolean Museum is off Beaumont St., at the far end of the Cornmarket. Founded by Elias Ashmole, antiquarian and alchemist, in the late 17th century, its original premises were located on Broad St. It moved to its new premises in the last decade of the 19th century, and within the last decade it's been refurbished and its galleries expanded. And it seems to be one of the few things in Oxford that's free to enter.
It's fucking shiny. Now, mind you, collections of Greek and Roman antiquities fail to astound me these days, after Athens. But the Ashmolean was at one point directed by Sir Arthur Evans. Its prehistoric collections are sexy: it has material from Nimrud and Jericho, from Knossos and Cyprus (Hi, A.G. Leventis Gallery! The Leventis foundation gets everywhere, which is excellent for Cypriot material in collections abroad), and a goodly store of Egyptian antiquities to boot, including the mummy of Menesamun, a female musician.
And pots. I love pots. POTS POTS POTS. LET ME FONDLE YOU. (Alas, no fondling allowed. But SO MANY DIFFERENT KINDS OF POTS.)
The Islamic art is also impressive, if not quite as numerous on display: I have a great fondness for medieval Persian decorative arts. There is Mongol art, and Tang dynasty camel ceramics, Mughal paintings, Tibetan Buddhas, Buddhist deities. A dancing Ganesha, who looked delightfully happy.
I didn't get up to the rest of the collections. My feet gave out, so - after drooling over this book among others in the museum shop, I hied off to Waterstones for a sandwich and a cake in the café.
This tourism lark is tiring. (And expensive.) I should have a nap, and recruit my strength...
This entry was originally posted at http://hawkwing-lb.dreamwidth.org/558188.html. There are
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2013-04-16 07:08 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-04-16 08:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-04-16 08:53 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-04-17 05:44 am (UTC)Oh, wow! *reminds self to re-read 'The Nine Tailors'*
If anything ever overcomes my fear of travel and lures me out of Dorset, it will probably be the Ashmolean.
no subject
Date: 2013-04-17 11:10 am (UTC)Yeah, hearing the bells up close? You understand why prolonged exposure might kill someone. :)