September 10 to September 16, 2022
Another week has passed and I am already halfway through my time at Exeter College in Oxford. While the days can be full and long, time has gone by quickly.
It’s hard not to think of the countless books and authors that have been products of this small island. Call me basic, but Jane Austen is my favorite author from England. She wrote about love, friendship, family, and home so tenderly, and I just adore her books. And yes, I have read all of them plus the collection of her letters.
Last time I was in England, I went to South Hampton where she went to school and lived for a time, Chawton Cottage where she lived for the last part of her life and published four of her novels, and Winchester Cathedral where she was buried. This was 2018 and I was lucky enough to visit almost all the significant places of Jane Austen. Almost all of them except for Bath.
My only travel priority this trip was to go to Bath. For five years Jane Austen lived in Bath and two of her novels, Persuasion and Northanger Abbey, were partially set there. With such historic ties to the city, Bath hosts a yearly Jane Austen festival. In September. When I would be in England. Learning about publishing. It was meant to be.
The Long Trek to Bath
So during the second weekend, I got to get a taste of Jane Austen’s Bath. Of course, I didn’t have to go alone. Plenty of other people in my program wanted to go too. There was a group of five of us that went on the nine o’clock train so it would give us enough time to get there before the start of the festival which opened with a parade at eleven.
We walked to the train station with extra energy, excitement building. I bought my ticket and a cup of tea and we went to catch the replacement bus. Because it was the weekend, not all of the trains were running so we had to catch an express bus to the connecting train station. Although we didn’t catch the express bus. I’m still convinced there wasn’t a direct bus, but it took us an hour to get to the train station instead of a half an hour. Tania did give us a glorious summary of Northanger Abbey on our way which was hilarious and passed the time. But that was just the start to the our transportation woes.
Once we got to Dicot Parkway, we didn’t have to wait long for the train to Bath, but every single carriage was full so we had to stand. At least, I was near the door where I could watch the countryside whoosh by, dotted with fields of sheep. Two hours later, we came screeching to a halt at the train station.
The city of Bath was a lot bigger than I expected and puts Oxford to shame with its cascading hills dotted with homes and picturesque river flowing through the center. We only explored about a ten block radius of the city but there was so much in that little amount of space that I truly felt like I got to experience Bath even if I didn’t take a turn around the entire city.
Tania, Sienna, Thea, Brittney and I rushed to see the parade. Okay, maybe I rushed us all to see the parade but I was excited to see what the festival was all about. We reached them just as they came over the Pulteney Bridge, a quaint old bridge lined with shops.
The regiment marched down the promenade, their arms wrapped with a black cloth to signify they were in mourning for the late queen. Fine gentlefolk in full costume of the regency time period walked behind them. Ladies were resplendent in empire waistline dresses and lace bonnets. The gentlemen in pattered waistcoats with starched cravats. I wished I could sew my own dress and join them. Next time perhaps, and I now have plenty of ideas for how I would design my regency era costume.
After the parade we wandered back to the main down town area where we set off to judge for ourselves which cafe has the best buns. Walking along the River Avon, everyone (except me) got some freshly squeezed lemonade. This is the start of me being a little sour. I probably should have gotten some to help my sugar.
We divided and conquered getting buns from two “rivalry” bakery cafes with sweet buns. But it turned out not to be any real animosity as we all ended up in Sally Lunn’s basement shop/museum with the buns from the cleverly named The Bath Bun. It was the cashier that told us the buns from Bath Bun were baked with a sugar cube. Sally Lunn Buns (say that five times fast) are huge and came in a charming box.
We took our abundance of buns and had a picnic at Parade Gardens which was open to the public free for charge because of the queen’s passing. They had a dedicated place for people to leave flowers and notes to the queen. The Bath Abbey was a strong presence over the garden.
We lounged into the grass and I dug into both, testing which was best. Besides the bun with a sugar cube making me feel like I was a bribed horse, the Sally Lunn buns had a great flavor. But in my mind they are quite tied. The bath bun was great to eat on its own (read: sugar) but the Sally Lunn would have been divine toasted and smothered in garlic butter. When judging savory or sweet, it’s too hard to compare.
After walking—excuse me, parading—around Parade Gardens and the shenanigans that ensued, we went to a bookshop. Yes, how predictable that book people went to a bookshop. Topping & Company had large tables stacked with gorgeous first editors, most of them signed. It was hard to resist not buying everything with pretty end papers, sprayed edges, intricate foil and embossed covers. I couldn’t help running my hand over all the books with a longing sigh. But in the end, I couldn’t resist and bought a book that was clearly made for me. The cover is a photo of embroidery and the inside of the dust jacket is the underside of the embroidery. What sealed the deal was the novel is about Jane Austen’s family. When in Bath, buy the book.
Afterwards, we made our way to the Jane Austen centre where we could enter the exhibition every twenty minutes. I was fading fast, so we wandered to a pub where ladies in regency dress had pies and beers in front of them. We were about to order but food was going to take over an hour so we changed gears and went into a small deli where we got toasties and sandwiches. We had another picnic in Queen Square. To be fair, I had devoured half of it before we made it to the park.
We got our tickets for Jane and went to see the circus up the hill, a grand circle with stone townhouses and wrought iron fences. Past that was the Royal Crescent, an equally grand half circle of townhouses that really is from Jane Austen’s past.
Then it was the moment. The Jane Austen centre was the perfect amount of corny. It started with an animated talk about the Austen family before we went to the basement for the exhibition. There was a cheesy “places of Jane Austen’s Bath” video featuring two characters from Jane’s novels. I had the group sneak out of the video early so we could try on regency dress and pose with Darcy himself.
Even if I missed my own Darcy back home, it was fun to be at the festival with people who were fans of Jane Austen too. To quote Northanger Abbey, “Friendship is certainly the finest balm for the pangs of disappointed love.”
The exhibition also had other little displays like a millinery and a place to try writing with quill and ink. At the end they have a wax figure of Jane Austen, creating a lifelike portrayal of what she actually looked like. I loved to be able to stand next to her, author and author. There’s no doubt I’ll be known for my romance stories some day. Whether or not I’ll have a wax figure… Well, I’d rather not.
It was off the Roman baths after that. Something I had little expectations for. But I knew from Jane Austen that many people would go to Bath to “drink the waters” for their health. Little did I know I would actually taste those very life affirming waters for myself. But I can’t spoil things too much even if it smelt spoiled with the sulfur hot spring.
Having experience ruins of old baths in Cordoba, I expected similar underground ruins. But it a veritable museum with preserved baths and bath rooms. It was amazing to walk the upper terrace lined with Victorian statues that overlooked the green pool of the Roman bath. Continuing on, old coins and other ancient relics were on display. Stones from old temples made it feel like you could really picture just what this monumental site was like. An ancient hot spring, changing rooms, and saunas all of it was protected under the city of Bath for centuries until it was uncovered.
Brittney and I got to the end together and each took a paper cup and held it under the stream of warm Bath water. We did a gentle cheers and drank to our health. And the water, full of minerals, tasted like blood. In Charles Dickens’ Pickwick Papers Mr. Sam Weller describes his experience: “I thought they were particularly unpleasant. I thought they’d a very strong flavour o’ warm flat irons.” Quite accurate if I do say so myself.
The evening was approaching and we decided it was time to head back and get dinner in Oxford. Bath was packed with people not only for the festival but for stag and hen parties plus tourists before the end of summer holiday. I was ready for the familiarity and quaint nature that was Oxford at night.
And then the train. The platform was full when we arrived and the train that was supposed to come a little after six never arrived. They announced a new train on the opposite platform so we rushed over to it and grabbed a seat only to be told it was a direct to London. We piled off and went back to the other platform, down the stairs, under the tracks and up the other side.
Eventually we got on a train but we had to stand the entire time again. I was hot and the only thing I wanted to do was sit and drink some water. I was able to talk to my partner Lee for a little while he was on the way to a bachelor weekend. It was nice to hear his voice even if I just wanted to rest my head on his chest.
We got the replacement bus to Oxford and surprise, it wasn’t direct and stopped constantly. From the time we initially walked from the Roman baths to getting off the train in Oxford was three hours. Three hours on tired feet and empty bellies. We all went to a Thai place and recounted our day over curry. Still managing to laugh despite the long day we had.
I Rather Have Nothing But Tea
After the adventures of the Jane Austen festival, I spent the Sunday after recovering. I didn’t leave my room until late in the day but the rest was much needed. I joined some other students for high tea at the Ivy on High Street. It’s an exquisitely decorated high end restaurant with tall ceilings and smart servers in formal black attire. Potted plants of all shapes and sizes sit on a ledge that wraps around the interior below the windows.
Four of us split two autumnal high tea dishes which came delivered on a silver tiered tray. I personally loved the savory tea sandwiches the best—smoked salmon, chicken salad, and cucumber with cream cheese. Sipping on their signature breakfast blend tea, I also enjoyed a scone, cupcake, and madeleine with lemon curd.
Oxford had their annual open doors that day which I didn’t take full advantage of since I left my room so late, but I did get to see Lincoln College, Exeter’s neighbor with its two quads and actually green grass. Not to throw too much shade, I think Exeter boasts a better chapel and dining hall. But it’s hard to compare stunning building to stunning building when you consider the fact that Oxford is three times old than America as a nation.
An American writer wrote a historical fantasy book called Babel when she was studying at Oxford. The book was published the week we arrived and it has been the thing to read while here. It takes place in Oxford and (in the seventeenth century but anyway) reading it while here is so magical. I recognize the iconic landmarks and street names. The historic buildings and anachronisms that I might have assumed were pieces of fiction if I didn’t know that they really are just quirks of life here.
Tori organized a bunch of us to bring our copy of Babel and after lecture one morning, we took a group picture in front of the Radcliffe camera with all of us holding it. We brandished our copies like shields in the bright sunlight. As I write this post, I’m sipping tea at her favorite cafe The Vaults and Gardens where she wrote a lot of Babel. I even brought my copy along for moral support as I attempt to get some words in.
A Hint of Autumn Air
The weather turned quite suddenly this week and I realized I don’t have nearly enough sweaters for the weeks ahead. The same sort of routine has continued with insightful lectures and professionals with amazing bestselling books in their repertoire.
I had a moment when I was taking my nightly walk after dinner where I realized my time here was already slipping away. Four weeks is really not that long a time and yet I already feel a sense of belonging here in Oxford. I know exactly where I am having wandered down almost every street. I’ve given directions to visitors when they assume I’m a student. I have my favorite loop to stroll and have tried many of the cafes.
Of course, there have been moments when I want nothing more than to be in my partner’s arms and chatting. I miss my cozy apartment with my own bathroom and a shower I actually fit in. But it’s the friendships I’ve made here that make those “pangs of disappointed love” more like aches than riffs of loneliness.
The end of my second week was the start of the CPC infamous book workshop week. After the anti-climatic reveal thanks to slow technology, we made our way to the fellow’s garden for sherry hour. And this time it was actually in the fellow’s garden. The construction taking place carved a path through the restoration of the library towards the back corner of Exeter. It is a breathtaking space with towering trees and a wall covered in a lush carpet of vines.
I climbed the steep stone steps up to the wall with wine glass in hand and gasped at the breathtaking view over Radcliffe Square with the iconic Radcliffe Camera, All Souls College spires, and tower of St. Mary’s Church all standing dignified on the cobbles. We cheered to the week ahead. I took my evening walk after dinner not knowing I wouldn’t be able to take many because of evening lectures and panels.
Workshop started Friday morning with our mentors encouraging us to go to the bookstores (remember there are two within 200 yards of Exeter) to help us with our assignment. I went to my assigned section and browsed their titles to inspire me for my own idea. Maybe this workshop week wouldn’t be so bad.
After our first official day, my evening ended with a bunch of us watching the movie Pattington in the JCR (Junior Common Room) and screaming with joy throughout. I won’t be able to see stuffed Pattington bears without thinking of my publishing friends.
We’ve learned from many of the speakers that publishing is a relationship business. It’s subjective and creative and about the people in it. This experience wouldn’t be the same without the friendly predisposition of every person that works with books. Everyone loves books and ideas and talking about books and ideas.
Publishing, like any other business, is not without its challenges but I feel confident that as the next generation of publishers, we will fight to make it better. To improve on a business that is about stories. Until next week, to being halfway through the course and to the people that have made it all worthwhile.
Happy Day-
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