I did it again. I went to Oxford. In a moment of pure desperation (no end at a tunnel plastered with essays and articles), I knew it would have to be Oxford to clear my thoughts again. Obviously that’s been an extremely cheap excuse and if anyone told me this story, I would have been like “Just sit down anywhere and write, stupid!” Well, that didn’t work so well.
So after hanging out in a pub reading for half of the day, the other couple of hours were well spent taking the walks again that feel as if I’ve taken them a hundred times. These did not only lead through an amazing old-fashioned sweets shop and the leafy bits near the canal but through Jericho.
Jericho is my favorite part of town. It’s so fascinating because although it’s in the heart of all the university press – old buildings – history – hype, it still sort of developed its own charme. One that bursts with flowers and leaves, with old and maybe even run-down houses (These are times when I miss Berlin), little independent cafés with crowds of students studying in them (Guess who quickly became one of them!) and a local flair that you wouldn’t really get elsewhere in Oxford.