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Oxford saved
It is hard to fathom what the governing body may have been thinking in 2004 when it hired New Zealander John Hood, a so-called modernist, as the new vice-chancellor of Oxford University. Modernisation seems the antipathy of everything the university stands for, its 900-years of existence steeped in rich history and, most importantly, a place where academic excellence rather than vocational training is paramount. Hood, the former vice-chancellor of the University of Auckland and a deputy boss of Fletcher Challenge, was the first outsider appointed to the Oxford role and, despite being born in Napier, a most unpleasant man to our way of thinking. His plans to replace the university’s highly successful form of self-governance with an externally dominated council and to separate academic and financial management were crushingly defeated and while at the time Hood declared that he did not see his routing as a vote of no-confidence, he has not sought a second term as vice-chancellor. Unscathed by the likes of Hood is how the university should remain, and he is due to leave at the end of September.
Despite several previous trips, we have never really explored Oxford, dominated in the centre by the university’s thirty-nine independent colleges and seven halls of residence, but we made up for it this time. It is simply exquisite; dubbed the city of dreaming spires there is an abundance of gothic architecture adorned with gargoyles, numerous buildings designed by Sir Christopher Wren, perfectly formed parks, gardens and playing fields, and monuments including one for the Oxford martyrs (Cranmer, Latimer and Ridley) burned at the stake for heresy in 1555 (a bricked X in the road marks the exact spot). Then there are the haunts of Inspector Morse, the covered market, punts on the Thames, the Pitt Rivers museum with its fine collection of trophy skulls and shrunken heads, the university museum with its dinosaur skeletons, and a pub called the Head of the River where we could sit in the late afternoon sun and rest our weary bones. We didn’t find the pubs frequented by Bill Clinton during his time as a Rhodes Scholar, nor did we see the Victoria Arms, the “local” of Invercargill-born writer Dan Davin and others of the New Zealand bohemian set. But we did come across the Eagle and Child (nicknamed the Bird and Baby) reputed to be the regular of JRR Tolkien, CS Lewis and other “inklings”, as they described themselves.
What amused us very much were the quirks and contradictions: The Said Business School, one of the few modern university buildings, which was controversially funded to the tune of 20 million pounds by a Syrian arms dealer, Wafic Rida Said. Although modern, the building comes complete with its own ziggaraut, an architecturally designed, copper clad stepped pyramid. Then there was Magdalene College which is pronounced maudlin, which becomes confusing when you get to Magdalene Church which is pronounced as it is spelled. And what strange tradition has students jumping into the Cherwell River to the accompaniment of Latin hymns?
Then there were the dons (senior male academics rather than mafia bosses) who in more Victorian times sunbathed naked along a particular stretch of the river. That was until a passing boat filled only with young and innocent female students chanced upon them. Startled, the dons jumped to their feet and regained their modesty by covering their private parts with towels. All except one, who covered his head so he would not be recognized. The result was that, aside from the one, these young women all knew the identities of their academic superiors who surprised them with such a bold display.
A trip to Oxford in the summertime would not be complete without a cycle ride down the Thames towpath and while it may be hard to believe we did it, from Kennington to Oxford and back again. Past the launches and narrow boats we went, over the Ifley lock, alongside the university sports fields and to the Folly Bridge. At one point Kaelene stopped to talk to a woman on board one of four narrow boats moored together. Not only do these boats look very pretty all decked out with tubs of flowers, but more importantly, they have central heating, double glazing, showers, dishwashers and even Sky TV. The owners spend six months a year exploring the waterways and then hibernate for the winter. That’s our sort of roughing it.
Such comfort was not ours however. We returned home, our inexperienced bottoms subjected to the narrow, unrelenting, hard seats of the bicycles – leaving us feeling, to coin a phrase, absolutely buggered.