Entry 1
June 16: Oxford
Today, my first trek to special collections. An edge of not knowing the procedure involved. I bussed down to High Street and found myself in a new part of Oxford for me, “behind” the Bodleian. The wind was still up and I felt really free and happy. I passed the “Sighing Bridge,” and took some photos for a later painting.
The librarians were friendly, gave me a brief tutorial of how to use the indexes as well as how to request further material. The hours passed quickly.
Since all of the libraries are closed on Sunday, I am toying with the idea of taking the train to Bath to see where Mary of Modena, as legend has it, bathed, afterwards finally giving birth to a son that lived—but that began the wheels turning for the Glorious Revolution and Mary and James II’s flight into French exile.
I returned to Art Cottage, dropped off my heavy backpack, and went out searching for a place to eat. I walked all the way back over the Magdalene Bridge—stopping to watch a punt boat driver “punting” a young couple under the bridge.
I found Merton House where Queen Henrietta lived while her husband, Charles I, (grandfather of Charles II and James II) who had to escape from London for a few years and conduct business from what is now the chapel in the old Bodleian Library.
I walked back to my neck of the woods and found a restaurant called Door 74, very small and airy. I had aubergine (I had to ask what it was: eggplant!) over couscous and some fabulous chutney-like sauce and a grilled zucchini “salad.” It feels great to feel settled and know my way around.
Back at Art Cottage, my windows wide open, I hear a torrent of commencement fireworks. I have seen several very young students over the last two days with their robes unzipped, shirts untucked, wearing leis and party hats!
Must be an Oxford tradition. They look young and joyous.
I return to reading Joan Didion’s book, Blue Nights, somewhat of a sequel to the Year of Magical Thinking. Blue Nightsis a treatise on aging and dying more or less; Didion is an incredible, lyrical writer. Jesse and I saw Vanessa Redgrave perform Year of Magical Thinking on Broadway—a one-woman show—about the death of Didion’s own daughter and husband, only a few weeks apart.
Didion writes in Blue about actress Miranda Richardson’s death. She was Vanessa Redgrave’s daughter and died from the same traumatic brain injury that Tony suffered, about two months after his—she didn’t get treatment, he did; that was the only difference. Didion and Redgrave are close friends. Knowing this makes Redgrave’s Broadway performance even more poignant.
Entry 2, one week later . . .
Saturday, June 23.
Bath, Salisbury, Oxford.
I am in my groove. I studied last Saturday, and Sunday—the library being closed—I trained to Bath to visit the ancient Roman baths—truly unforgettable.
I got a wild hair and took a bus to Stonehenge: It was too close to pass up! Mystical. Worth it!
Finished an invigorating week of searching 17th century manuscripts in the Bodleian’s Special Collections reading room. I read 8 hours daily except for today, Saturday. Since I finished early, I decided to explore and photograph Oxford. Saturday is a perfect day to watch Oxford unfold—people spill out into the streets, a mix of antiquity and the modern. This trip I have been mesmerized by chimneys.
In Bath 
St. James Palace 
I rested aching feet in a book store and when I emerged, it had rained. I learned early on, always keep an umbrella and hat in my backpack. The last time I was here, England was suffering through an intense drought, so much so that I remember my professor saying that because of restrictions on watering gardens, he would take his plants into the shower with him. Not a problem this summer. The weather’s moodiness suits me, as well as cool temperatures! I don’t think the thermometer has reached 70 yet. Yippee.
Tomorrow morning, I am taking the train into London for a 5 day stay to visit palaces, the National Portrait Gallery, and hopefully spend day at the British Museum looking at a few more manuscripts. I am going to take a Thames River cruise, as well. That’s how royalty traveled back then.
Cambridge University has given me permission to read an unpublished dissertation I have been jonesing for. In addition to visiting country homes of some of my characters, Edinburgh is in the offing, as well as a ferry to France.
Unbelievable 17th Century pencil sketches of the port of Calais, France, in one of the manuscripts.
I stood up on a library stool to be able to photograph the largest one and was promptly scolded by a librarian: I felt like one of the kids! It kind of felt good to be reprimanded. I was always such a good little girl.
