Preparations
When I learnt that the Bodleian Libraries were going to organize an all Tolkien exhibition providing an opportunity to see his manuscripts and other personal items as comes only once in a generation, I was strongly tempted to go. However, there were two problems. One of them was that I live in Slovakia while the exhibition was to take place in Oxford, England; so naturally, I questioned whether it would be worth the travel. I did not want to miss on this one, for who knows when again in the future a similar exhibition may occur. The Tolkien Society website announced that the last time the materials as were going to be gathered there were seen together was yet during Tolkien’s life; and he has already inhabited the Halls of Mandos for 45 years. If the next exhibition dedicated to his life and work was to take pace in as many years, I may not live to see it. So I decided I had to see it now. Also, it would be a great chance to visit the places he lived at, Oxford and the nearby Birmingham. I could take a week off and go for a Tolkien-inspired sight-seeing holiday.
But there comes the second problem: there was nobody to go with. Nearly none of my friends were as big fans of Tolkien as me, and those who were, were too busy to come. I did not want to go on my own, since this was to be my first holiday (or travel at all) without my parents, and all my family was scared to let me go abroad alone. To be sincere, I too was a little doubtful whether I would be able to make it on my own. But I was so determined to go, that I would risk it despite my family’s disapproval. Luckily, everything was soon miraculously resolved. At my work-place team-building party I got to chat with a colleague who wanted to visit England and who had the same problem as me that she had nobody to go with. So I told her about my intention and even though she had never read Tolkien’s book up to that time, she agreed to go with me. That settled it: I WAS going to see the exhibition, and much more!
Over the next week I booked all travel tickets, accommodation, and planned our whole trip. Using Google’s My Maps, I prepared a detailed map of all the places I wanted to see, the core of which were Tolkien-related sights, plus some other interesting local landmarks such as museums. I planned to spend 3 days in Oxford and then move for another 3 days to Birmingham. I did not want to omit a single Tolkien-related spot, so I planned my Oxford tour with the help of Harry Lee Poe’s beautifully illustrated guide The Inklings of Oxford, and the Birmingham ones according to several Tolkien trails that I found on the Internet. Then I impatiently counted down the days remaining to our departure.
Day 0 - Departure
That came on the 2nd August. This was to be my first flight, so I was considerably nervous about it. As it turned out, for nothing. Despite the 1 hour delay, it was a smooth night flight. Arriving at Luton around midnight and our bus departing at 8am, we had to spend the rest of the night there. It was not easy at the crowded, noisy airport, but we even managed to get a few interrupted hours of sleep, weirdly huddled on the waiting chairs. Not very comfortable but survivable.
We tried to catch up with some more sleep during the two-hour bus ride to Oxford. I don’t know if it is because of the proverbial British weather, so that people here are used to lower temperatures; that caused the National Express buses we took to put the AC in this period of unusual heat wave to almost freezing. Yeah, we were lucky enough to visit England during an untypically sunny and hot weather. But the bus drivers seemed not to have known about the health care recommendations of appropriate AC settings according to which the difference between the outside and inside temperatures should not exceed 10°C, otherwise human body can experience a thermal shock because of a too fast transition between the two areas. The lovely warm Tolkien-inspired jumper from Tea with Tolkien seller, which, understandably, I just could not left home, was little protection against the cold, which consequently prevented our napping.
But I did not mind it much because I was excited about the trip, and particularly the exhibition which was to be the peak of our first day in Oxford.
A complete map of all the places I visited in Oxford, supplemented with photographs, can be viewed here:
Day 1 - The exhibition and Oxford centre
Upon arrival to Oxford, we first went to accommodate at the Oxford Backpackers hostel. But coming there, we found out that the information on their website provided at booking was misleading and they did not do check-in all day, but only after 2pm. It was only 11am yet. That gave us 1 hour until our scheduled entrance to the exhibition, so we went to explore the town. First of all, we needed to find some place where to go grocery shopping, as we were travelling light and the hostel only provided breakfast. So naturally, our steps led to the Covered market. It took us a while to orientate in the town, but after the first day I can say I knew the centre quite well as if I had lived there for long.
However, the most confusing was the traffic. Now I won’t even mention the fact that they drive on the wrong! side of the road. That, surprisingly, came natural to me. I just had to learn to look to the right first. Thanks heavens for the instruction being written on the walkpaths at crossings; so clever and helpful. But I did not expect there to be so heavy a traffic, especially the double-floor buses (or coaches? I still don’t understand the difference) in the centre — it just does not fit into the picture of a historical town — and multitude of people. And the most baffling were their road-crossing customs. The locals seemed to pay no heed to the traffic-lights; red or no red, they just crossed the street when no vehicle was coming. Soon we adjusted to their style. Second thing: while it is becoming still a more frequent good custom for the continental West-European drivers to stop at crossing with no adjacent traffic-lights when they see someone waiting to cross the street, this was an extremely rare happening in England. At least, we as pedestrians experienced it only a couple of times; even more seldom than in my East-European homeland (mind that geographically, Slovakia is in the Central Europe and Slovaks can be easily angered if you call them Easterners!), and that says a lot, to my disappointment.
But back to our journey. The hour passed quickly, so we left the market into Market Street and a little confused about our position, took Brasenose Lane, passed the Radcliffe Camera, Bodleian Library, and Clarendon Building to spot the big banner on Weston Library in front of us, inviting us to the exhibition. I’m preparing a separate article on it, so I’m not going to recount it here. All I can say is that it sure was worth all the travel and would be even if I had not got to see anything else. A single word to describe it is OVERWHELMING! Like many of other visitors sharing their experience at the Tolkien Society facebook group, I too spent there two hours and would have stayed even longer if my back was not already hurting under the weight of my bag (I was able to pack all necessary things for the week-long trip into a 6kg backpack!). I strongly recommend it to everyone, not only Tolkien fans; no one leaves it unawed.
Afterwards, we returned to our hostel for the check-in, had some snacks, and went back to the streets of Oxford. Because of the unexpected delay on account of the check-in times, I was not able to manage to see everything I planned for that day, but still I wanted to have a peek on as many of the spots on my list as I could. The Mesopotamia and Addison’s Walks I had to postpone for another day. On the way to the hostel we caught a glimpse of TESCO, so we wanted to check that out because this store also operates in Slovakia. How surprised we were to find out that here it is not a big supermarket like it is in our country, but rather a relatively small local grocery shop. Looking for its entrance, we saw St. Mary Magdalen church with its fascinating old cemetery and the Martyrs Memorial. Then we walked down Broad Street, past Trinity College where the Tolkien boys were graduates, and Blackwell’s bookstore which we ventured into on Sunday and where I hauled Tolkien’s book Finn and Hengest. Next to it is The White Horse, one of the pubs the Inklings used to meet at. It neighbours Weston Library and across the street, on the corner of Holywell Street and Parks Road stands a pink building of The Kings Arms, another pub they used to visit. As a matter of fact, there are about half a dozen pubs in Oxford the Inklings frequented. From there we went again past all the library buildings on the right and the Bridge of Sights on the left to Racliffe Square and Brasenose Lane to Turl Street where Exeter College is located. Both Tolkien and Hugo Dyson were undergraduates here and there is a bust of Tolkien in the college chapel. At first, we thought that it was not open that day since its heavy wooden gate was closed, but then we saw some people coming out and found out that we had about 15 minutes until its closing at 5pm, so we ventured in. Unlike the Trinity which charges ₤6, Exeter has a free entrance to the yard, the chapel and fellow’s garden. Naturally, I was most eager to see the bust, so we went into the chapel first. The bust is located at the entrance, on the left above the door.
From there we went down Turl Street to The Mitre, another pink-coloured “Inklings’s” pub. The we took the left course along High street, past The University Church of St. Mary the Virgin, where Lewis delivered his preaches Learning in War-Time and The Weight of Glory, up to Queen’s Lane on the left. In this lane stands Edmund’s Hall and Church which C. S. Lewis used to attend. The next turn on the High Street to the right is Merton Street on the corner of which stands the Eastgate Hotel, another of the Inklings’ meeting places. A little further down Merton Street is the entrance to Oxford University Examination Schools where both Tolkien and C. S. Lewis often lectured. Then we walked along Longwall Street to Holywell Street. There near the turn of these two streets is a house number 99, a nice old stone 3-floor house with white windows. At this address Tolkien lived from May 1950 to March 1953. On the same street, at now a more modern looking house with number 12 lived Tolkien’s friend Hugo Dyson. While living here, Tolkien used to attend masses at the New College Chapel and his son Christopher was later a fellow of this college. Unfortunately, we did not have enough time to visit it, so we returned to High Street and went down it up to Magdalen Bridge. Since the Botanic Garden was also already closed, we had to leave its visit for another day. We passed it from the right, along Rose Lane that led us by Merton Field Park to Broad Walk. So we passed Merton College, where Tolkien was a fellow and since 1945 also a professor of English Language and Literature, from the back. That is one of the places I did not have a chance to visit; and therefore a reason to come back again next year.
It was about 6pm so our stroll this walk was accompanied by good 15 minutes of bell tolling coming probably from the Christ Church Cathedral. The Broad Walk led us to A420 highway, and since we were tired after the whole day and a lack of sleep, we headed for our hostel (altogether, we walked about 9 km that day). On the way there, we stopped at Pembroke Square to look at St. Aldate’s Church. Here is also located a side entrance to Pembroke College where Tolkien was a professor of Anglo-Saxon between 1925 and 1945. Unfortunately, this is closed to public. Our last stop of that day was for a dinner at Franco Manca Pizzeria, obviously a very popular eating place, judging from the queue of hungry people that gathered outside it during out stay there. We chose it for a simple reason: the lowest, Slovak-teachers-wages-friendly prices from all the restaurants that we passed that day and had their menus displayed at the entrance. We were not disappointed and the atmosphere and Italian-fisher’s-place look were wonderful.
Day 2 - Headington
The main goal of our second day was Lewis’s house, the Kilns, in Headington, meaning a long tour awaited us, so we woke up early. Upon leaving the hostel, we stopped at Oxford Castle and Mound, but since it was not yet open and we did not want to lose time, we went to the Covered Market again to buy some roses to put on his and Hugo Dyson’s and Charles Williams’s graves (I chose white because it symbolizes innocence). The latter two Inklings are buried at Holywell Cemetery situated at St Cross Road. Its entrance just beside Church from which the road got its name can easily be missed as it is not very clearly marked. The sign on at the tiny gate is shaded by overhanging branches and the mystifying overgrowth behind it resembles the Brandybucks’ entrance to the Old Forrest. The spooky look is sharpened by the presence of provisory bedding of homeless people in the nearby shaded corner. But after few metres through a bush-made tunnel we stepped into a considerably sized grassy space crowded with tombstones. I don’t know how old this cemetery is, but it is saddeningly and unforgivably neglected: the graveyard is apparently in an advanced stage of the process of being taken over by ages-unmowed dry grass, flourishing weeds and wild bushes, fallen leaves and wind-broken tree twigs of all sizes. Obviously, except the homeless people trying to find shelter in the deteriorating graveyard sheds, nearly no people visit it nowadays. It is heartbreaking to think that majority of the deceased lying here are already forgotten. The number of the still-tended graves can be counted on the fingers of one hand.
In the centre of this disremembered cemetery, under a tree stands a bench and next to it a plan of the whole place; luckily, still highlighting the resting spots of the several prominent people buried here. Hugo Dyson is not hard to find. His grave is almost right in front of the bench. I removed a couple of twigs and dry leaves from it, finding out that the academic is, instead of Simbelmynë, being honoured by a sprout of chestnut. It was at this point that, looking at the cemetery plan, I realized that I had not checked it properly in the morning and mistakenly believed that it was Lewis who was buried here along with Dyson — I completely forgot about Williams — followed by the realization that I only bought two stems of roses instead of three. Fortunately, it was the kind with multiple small flowers on the top, one with four and one with five. So I took the one with more flowers and dissected it into to uneven parts. Saying a prayer, I put a triplet on Dyson’s grave, saving the remaining duo for Williams’s. His grave is hidden under a tree at the northern wall, surrounded by an elevating carpet of blackberry bushes and richly sprinkles with oak leaves, so it took a bit more cleaning.
Here I would like to appeals to all the Tolkien or Lewis fans out there planning to visit Oxford: when you do, please, remember to stop by at the Holywell Cemetery and tidy up at least the graves of these two Inklings. You can drop a prayer or two as well to revere them.
Opposite the St Cross Church that serves as a museum these days, holding the Balliol’s Historic Collection, is a minor university complex including the English Faculty Library. This hides another, a bigger bust of Tolkien. Unfortunately, the library is closed on Saturdays during the holidays, what its website forgot to mention but the receptionist explained. He bid us come again on Monday after 9am, which I was doubtful I could manage since on Monday we were to leave for Birmingham. Disappointed by this, we moved onto Manor Road where Tolkien lived at number 3 from 1947 to 1950. We continued down the road until we passed the last college building on the left and not spotting the walk-path between the building and the hedge we walked along it from the other side until we rejoined it at the edge of the wood. We headed to Parson’s Pleasure, an old bathing place at the River Cherwell. This river bend used to be Oxford’s first nude pool and a favourite swimming place of Lewis’s. But it slowly deteriorated and was closed in 1991. Nowadays all that swims in there are ducks and punts; no naked academics anymore. The bank provides a nice peaceful place for picnics or reading books.
From Parson’s Pleasure we followed Marston Cyclepath to Headington that led us to a lazily quiet town ward. Through Edgeway Road, B4150, and Jack Straw’s Lane we got to Sandfield Road. The white two-floor house number 76 where Tolkien lived between March 1953 and July 1968 stands on the right and is marked with a big white plaque. (A funny observation: in Oxford, houses on one side of the road all have even numbers, while those on the opposite side have odd numbers.)
Our next step was to find Cuckoo Lane that would bring us from Sandfield Road to Old High Street, but since it is not marked at this side; moreover, it is hidden between a brick wall and an old fence and thick growth, we missed it and got a bit lost. First we took the turn leading to The Manor Hospital, and then retracing our footsteps, the turn leading to Sandfield Nursery. It was only on our way back to Sandfield Road that we spotted the old fence and the lane behind it. The Cuckoo Lane is a tight walkpath leading between a block of houses on one side and a park on the other, with trees leaning over the fence thus covering us for a while from the sight of the burning sun.
Number 10 Old High Street is where Lewis’s American divorcee wife, Joy Davidman lived before marrying him. From there we moved to 14 Holyoake Road, one of the houses nearby where Lewis lived. Another two stand at Windmill Road, numbers 58 and 76. From Windmill Road we turned to Margaret Road which took us to Headington Quarry. There at the cemetery belonging to Holy Trinity Church is Lewis’s final resting place. Since the church is still in use (actually, there was a wedding taking place at the time we came there), also the cemetery is much better tented that the Holywell. Apparently, Lewis is the only prominent person buried here. There is a sign showing the direction to it on a wall at the end of the concrete path, but since it is positioned at the edge of the wall and this (and a dirt path with it) turns in an obtuse angle from that point, it took us some time to locate it. Had I not remembered what it looked like on Internet pictures, I would have overlooked it. But in the end, we managed to find the big white grave stone with a big engraved cross. Saying a prayer again, I put the second rose in its middle.
Next, we walked down Beaumont Road, crossing the eastern By-Pass Road to Kiln Road. The fourth turn to the right is Lewis Close at the end of which stands The Kilns, the most famous and longest inhabited house of Lewis Brothers. Since the house is still being used as a study by the C.S. Lewis Foundation, tours are held only 3 days in a week and have to be booked in advance, charged ₤12,50 per adult, what we had not done (another reason for me to return to Oxford some day), so we just observed from the street. On the very last house in this street, neighbouring The Kilns, we spotted a black plaque with a picture of lion and the inscription “Narnia”. Nice. Next to this house is situated the entrance to C. S. Lewis Community Nature Reserve with two ponds looking appropriately from a wild nature conservation, all covered with algae. At one of them Lewis built a bomb shelter during the WWII, but we did not see it from the path we took.
We crossed the wood and got to Old Road which we followed up to South Park that we passed from the South. I found it strange that most parks in Oxford were majorly big grassy field with threes usually only along their borders. I wonder what people usually do at such big open spaces. In my conception, a park is rather the opposite of this — an area with many trees, almost a little wood. That’s what we call a park in Slovakia.
Anyway, from there it was just a short distance along St. Cement’s Street to Magdalen Bridge and the Botanical Garden beyond it. This favourite place of Tolkien’s is quite big and there is much to see. It took us a about two hours to explore it whole. Unfortunately, Tolkien’s beloved tree, a black pine, no longer stands there. One day mid July 2014 the old tree suddenly broke and had to be completely removed for safety reasons. I vaguely remembered reading in some article back then that some pieces of the tree were on display in the Garden’s buildings (or was it in a museum?); I thought it may be in the Herbarium. But that was not open to public. Luckily, passing the Herbarium by, we stopped and asked about it a lady who works there and was going into it on some errand at that moment. She explained that the herbarium is usually open to public only at some special events; nonetheless, she kindly let us peek in. The room contained several showcases full of dried samples and posters of plants grown in the Garden. No big pieces of the pine’s branches or its stem. Only a sample of its twig with needles and a cone which was surprisingly small for such a big tree. I expected something bigger. But I was grateful to see at least this. Maybe the information about the remains of the pine being on display that stuck in my mind was incorrect. Maybe it was not in the Botanic Garden but rather in some of the local museums, which we, unfortunately, had no time to visit. Or it was on display just for a short time in 2014. Who knows.
Since it was getting late, we headed for the hostel then. On the way, we stopped at Blackwell’s for about a half an hour. That is when I bought the book. The second day we walked 23,5 km in 9 hours.
Day 3 - Wolvercote
Since the third day of our trip was Sunday, we started it with the 8 o’clock mass at Oxford Blackfriars. For those who don’t know, Blackfriars is the nickname of Dominican priests, inspired by the colour of their gowns. Their church is at Banbury Road, near the Eagle and Child’s pub. It’s one of the churches Tolkien used to attend, most frequently during the time he lived at 1 Alfred Street, now renamed to Pusey Street. The inside of the church is plain: several rows of wooden chairs with kneelers, no statues or ornaments. All the attention concentrates on the altar and the priest.
We seated ourselves at the back-most row, leaning our backpacks at the wall. The mass was attended by about two dozens people. Unfortunately, there were no prayer books to be used by guests and I forgot that I screenshot the English versions of the main prayers with my tablet, so I could not pray along with others. Instead, I said the prayers in Slovak in my head. When the communion time came, one priest handing out the Eucharist stood in the middle, and two others with chalices stood at the sides. Because that is not the usual custom in Slovakia and because some people did go to receive both the Bread and the Wine while some only the Bread, I was confused what to do — what are the conditions for receiving both? So I decided to go only for the Bread. Another thing that always confuses me is when some people receive the Eucharist into their mouths and some into their hands. I am used to receiving directly into my mouth, but seeing that most people here receive into their hands, I did likewise. I was surprised that the Eucharist tasted like corn bread. We definitely have nothing like that in my parish.
After the mass we went to the Covered Market to buy another rose to put on Tolkien’s grave that we wanted to visit that day, only to find out it was not yet open. Upon circling it several times, we came across a man cleaning its entrance who told us it may not open for another 60 or 90 minutes. Strolling through the town we learned that no store sells fresh flowers, nor is there any florist open on Sunday. So we had no other choice but wait for the Covered Market to open. We stopped by at a number of souvenir shops at Broad Street and Tourist Visitor Information Centre where we bought some small gifts for our friends. Still having much time left till the Market’s opening, we walked down to Folly Bridge and then back.
When we finally got to buy the flower, we went to the Castle Mound to enjoy over-the-roofs sight of Oxford and take some panorama pictures. Passing New Road, Park End Street and Botley Road we came to a walkpath along the river Thames that starts at Osney Bridge and along which the Inklings used to go for walking tours. The path is well-maintained, with trees providing shade in this probably the hottest day of our stay so far, lots of blooming plants, and boats and punts and human-food-keen ducks and swans in the water. The walkpath was unexpectedly busy with (also dog-) wakers, runners and cyclists. We also saw some sport swimmers in the river and a number of kayakers having a race at Fiddler’s Island. On the bank across Bossom’s Boat Yard a flock of cows were refreshing themselves in the water. A lot more cows and also geese (probably, they were too far to be confirmed) were scattered on the field on that side of the river. Beyond the boat yard the ground was also trampled, but there were also small beaches with sun/bathing people. The water was alluring. At first I only walked into the river to the height of my knees. That was somewhere near The Perch inn, which the Inklings used to stop at during their walks, but since it is a way further from the bank and hidden in trees, we did not catch a glimpse of it.
But about a furlong further I could no longer resist. Well, when next may I have the chance to swim in Thames? Seeing the weather forecast ere coming to England, I packed a swimsuit just for this occasion and purposefully wore it that day. I just had to try it. So I found a spot partially enclosed by trees, put of my shirt, skirt and shoes and jumped into the river. The water was cool but really refreshing in the heat of the day. I did a few strokes, nearly entangling my leg in a water lily and then went out in about 5 minutes. This was one of my best and certainly the most unusual experience of this holiday. While drying myself and changing my clothes (Don’t worry, nobody saw me, I did my swimming in a quiet period of time when no boat or pedestrians were passing by. Moreover, I have a practice in changing clothes covered under the cover of a big towel, since we have a small swimming pool in the garden.), a very daring swan swam to us curious whether we have anything in our bags to feed it. We had nothing to give it, we only took pictures of it. I must admit that I felt a strong respect towards the animal when it tried to step out of the water on the bank just a meter away from me squatting over my bag and thus looking straight into its eyes. We rather quickly went away so that it would not get too curious to inspect our packs itself or even peck us.
On the way we stopped at the ruins of Godstow Abbey near which, across the river, stands another of Inklings’ favourite walk-resting places The Trout Inn, an old looking stone building with a terrace overlooking the river. We followed Godstow Road up to the big roundabout and then the Five Mile Drive (I wonder who gave it the name when it is hardly a half a mile long). At its end, at the corner of Banbury Road is Wolvercote Cemetery. Tolkien’s grave was easy to find since directions to it are marked on small boards at the edge of the paths. I put the rose on his grave, watered the flowers growing there and said a prayer. It felt like visiting the grave of a family relative. It was only several weeks later that I learned that his son John is also buried at this place. Had I known it earlier, I would have visited his grave too. One more reason to come back next year.
After some rest at the cemetery we set on the way to Oxford along Banbury Road. It was somewhere at Summertown when something unfortunate happened. I was checking the map in my tablet for directions to Northmoor Road — I remember the battery being 70% charged — then put it into my bag and when I picked it out some ten minutes later again to see how further it was, the tablet was dead! and did not turn on until plugged on charger. But even then it did not work properly, showing the date 1st January 2016 and the touchscreen not responding. I was furious because I did not save the photos I took with it the first days anywhere else, what makes about a third of all the photos taken to far, including photos of various houses Tolkien inhabited. Upon returning to Slovakia, I brought it to a repairer who told me he can get them out, but so far it has not been finished. If he succeeds, I will upload the photos to the map the link to which is provided at the beginning of this article. But in Oxford I could do nothing else with it. Luckily, it was already on the way back to town, so there were just a few places remaining I wanted to see. But I had to look the map out online with my phone what means I had to spend my Internet data.
In spite of the unexpected complication, we found Belbroughton Road which led us to Northmoor Road quite easily. Tolkien lived here at the houses number 20 and 22; even numbers on one side, the houses neighbour each other. No 22 is hidden behind trees, but No 20 is marked by a blue plaque. At the end of Bardwell Road to which Northmoor Road leads is The Dragon School which John Francis Tolkien attended. But not having my prepared map with all these spots marked in the tablet, I forgot about it. Otherwise I would have looked at it and photograph it.
Our third to last stop was The Eagle and Child’s pub where we stopped for food. The Inklings’ table is near the bar but was currently occupied by, as I found out at our leave, another Tolkienite pilgrims, so we chose a table at the back and ordered, what else but the typical British meal: fish and chips. For Slovak teachers a nearly 12₤ meal is rather expensive so we decided to take only one portion and go for half. As it turned out, it was the best decision also hunger-wise. After 7 hours of walking we were hungry as wolves; luckily, the portion was so big that it fed us up even two. I sure would not be able to finish it, if I had it all for myself. And it was delicious; the fish was soft as a cloud with nice crunchy crust. Yummy. I can only recommend it. Sitting there we heard Slovak spoken at the next table so we greeted the people in Slovak upon leaving and had some laugh about it. Then I stopped at the Inklings’ corner to take pictures, the couple still being there. They asked me to take pictures of then and in turn they took pictures of me there.
Leaving the Bird and Baby’s, as the Inklings nicknamed it, we crossed the street to get to another of the dons’ favourite pubs, The Lamb and Flag, which they met at during the WWII when the opposite pub was closed. The map on my phone showed that there should be a passage next to it leading to Museum Road, but the screen is too small to discern that there is a sharp turn to it behind the building, so when we looked into the pub’s backyard, we could only see a wall at the back so we thought it is closed on the other side. Thus we walked all the way around Broad Street and Parks Road to get to S Parks Road which brought us to Marston Cyclepath. We wanted to see the Mesopotamia Walk that begins near the Parson’s Peasure, but the entrance there was barricaded, probably because of some repairs going on, so we had to ask for another way to it. That is hidden in the tree alley that runs across the field from Headington. I hoped that we could get by the Mesopotamia Walk to Magdalen College Fellows’ Garden and from there through Bat Willow Meadow to Addison’s Walk because Google Maps said that was possibly. Apparently, they don’t care about private and closed paths. So instead we had to take King’s Mill Lane to Marston Road and St Clement’s Street to get to Magdalen College. As it turned out, there is no other way to get to Addison’s walk but to buy entrance to the college for 6₤ (maybe except for swimming to The Water meadow island from river Chervell) . This grants you access to the Walk, Magdalen Chapel, St John’s Squad, the wonderful Cloister, Hall, New Building Lawns, and Deer park on the island. The Addison’s Walk was unlike I expected. I remembered it from pictures on some Tolkien-related websites as a regularly spaced tree alley through which the college building was visible. But that must have been shot at the beginning of spring, because now in the middle of summer the growth around was quite thick and the building was not glimpse-able. But it was all green and reminded me of Ithilien.
That day we walked 25 km in 10 and half hours. Upon coming back to the hostel, we packed all our belongings because the next day we were to move to Birmingham.
Day 4 - Oxford to Birmingham
Since our bus to Birmingham was leaving at 11:30, I decided to go and see the bust of Tolkien at English Faculty Library right after breakfast so as to be there as soon as it opens (what it does at 9am). This time there was a different receptionist who was unsure whether he could let me have a look at it. So he had to ask the library stuff who kindly let me in. The bronze bust was located on the first floor in a glass wall corner so it could be seen also from the outside. This one is bigger than the bust in Exeter College Chapel which is only a head, while this one captures also his shoulders and upper part of chest. It was made by Tolkien’s doughter-in-law, Christopher’s ex-wife, Faith Tolkien neé Faulconbridge in 1959 and given to the faculty in 1966. The library lady allowed me to take my time with it. I took some pictures and returned to the hostel to check-out. The whole 3,5 km walk there and back again (I know you see what I did there) took me little over an hour.
At the bus station we met a lovely elderly lady who helped us find our bus. That was some minutes late and extremely cooled. After 30 minutes I regretted that I left my jumper in the backpack which I put into the bus luggage box. I was wearing T-shirt and shorts and in order to protect myself from the cold air blown from the AC I covered my tights with my handbag and put my arms behind my back. Nonetheless, we were totally frozen when we took of the bus in Birmingham; so much that after arriving to the Birmingham Central Backpacker hostel and finding out that we had to wait a half an hour longer to be able to check in, I seated myself on a sun-lit spot on a couch. This place looked much better than the Backpackers in Oxford: there were all kinds of colourful decorations around, TV, DVD player and screen projector, but most importantly, they had a more professional organization and reservation system. They sure value their guests. There was a problem that I mistakenly made my booking for 6th July instead of August what, despite checking all my bookings several times, I overlooked (I focused on the day number, not the month) and realized only when I had been charged 36₤ for the first night for no-show. Immediately, I contacted them on facebook and they offered me an 18₤ discount on my arrival in August. Big thumbs up for that attitude. Also the rooms and beds as well as showers were much nicer than in Oxford. The only downside was the complicated water heating in the showers the proper setting of which I could not figure out. The water was either too cold or, turning the setting button a little, too hot and when I finally set it to a likeable temperature and then turned it off and on again after a while, it never was the same temperature anymore. Another trouble was that somebody stole our sausage and likely even used our ketchup that we put, properly signed, into a fridge in a common small kitchen opposite our room. We should have learned better than to put it in there, when we saw a not asking an anonymous thief to return somebody a bottle stuck on the fridge upon our arrival. Since that incident we did not put any more food in there. But overall the place was fine and comfortable.
This day we did not want to make any long tour, so we just went to see some sights in the centre: we passed from the Bullring to Victora Square, along Chamberlain Square, library and theatre to the International Convention Centre. The whole square is dug up since they are building a new office centre there what I find sad because the glass monster does not fit among the historical buildings around. With its architectural (non-)conception Birmingham reminded me of our capital, Bratislava. There, like in Birmingham, you can find old buildings next to new one, with some skeletons and abandoned decaying barracks scattered in between. There is no system in it.
Map of the places we visited in Birmingham with photos can be viewed here:
We tried to find our way to Edgbaston, pasing through Central Square and Sheepcote Street to Broad Street which we followed until we came to Hagley Road and the Plough and Harrow hotel where Tolkien stayed in June 1916 as the blue plaque next to its door announces. Google Maps tells that the restaurant inside is named Tolkien, but there was no sign telling so at the place. Across the road named after the hotel, in the “gore” there is Birmingham Oratory of St Philip Neri where Fr Francis Morgan, the Tolkien boys’ curator served and the boys often visited. The community still supports young boys and helps them to better education. We had a look in the inner yard with fountain, a big crucified Jesus on one wall, St Mary’s statue on another and marble memory boards with the names of some deceased priests on the third. In the fourth wall is the entrance to the chapel. We had nearly two more hours until the start of the mass, so we went to see Tolkien-related spots in this area.
At Waterworks Road there are the two waterworks tower which are said to be the inspiration of Tolkien’s Two Towers: Perrott’s Folly and Edgbaston Waterworks Tower. They are not as tall as I imagined and spottable only from a dozen of metres afar. Moreover, they are not accessible to public, both being fenced in a private grounds. The first one is a part of Medical Centre’s parking lot, the other one of some large factory-like complex. Opposite this is Stirling Road where Tolkien lived in at his aunt’s place. The original house no longer exists, as well as some other he lived in in this area, such as the one at Oliver Road and 37 Duchess Road. But on the corner of Duchess and Francis Road stands a building named Gamgee House. Only one house Tolkien lived in still exists, 4 Highfield Road, a big semi-detached white house that nowadays serves as nursery. There is also a blue plaque on it.
Having made around across all these addresses we could go to the Oratory to attend the 5:45 pm Latin Mass. The chapel is a typical richly ornamented chapel with several side altars, including one dedicated to St Mary, one to St Philip Neri, and a shrine of the oratory’s founder John Henry Newman. At first I thought that Latin Mass simply means a mass recited in Latin, but in fact, it was a ordinary pre-Vatican II mass at which the priest faces the altar for most of the time and is hardly audible to the parishioners seated behind him who spend a great deal of the time kneeling. The oratory provides prayer books with the text of the mass, but many of the prayers the priest recited are not recorded there; I deem it is because they are only reserved to the priest and “not the laics’ business”. So I was not able to follow it, not to mention that I did not understand a word beside the sign of the cross and Amens. I only managed to follow the book for one page after the priest’s triple exclamation: “Sanctus!” (or something like that, I do not remember it exactly anymore), but then I got lost again. Then it struck me that neither they, nor the Blackfriars played any music during the masses. Another unusual thing was that we had to kneel along the altar-rail when receiving the Eucharist. After the mass we looked around the chapel, lighted a candle at one of the altars and gave some money for their poor-people funds for what we could take some “holy” pictures of the founder and local altars. You can take 2 big ones or 3 small ones for 1₤. I put in 2₤ and took a mix to give my grandmothers when I come home. Then we headed for the hostel. We walked nearly 13 km in 3,5 hours that afternoon.
Day 5 - Sarehole
The peak of our Birmingham trip was Sarehole and Moseley, parts where Tolkien spent his happiest childhood days. It was to be a long tour so we set out early after breakfast. We went along Alcester Street (It was already here that I admitted that the Portugal boy who I chatted with the previous evening while preparing my dinner at the hostel was true with his opinion that Birmingham is a dirty city. There is a ot of garbage along the roads and nasty smells at some spots) and across Highgate Park and then along Stratford Road up to Evelyn Road where stands English Martyrs RC Church where Tolkien’s son John served as a priest. Then we again followed the Stradford Road up to the entrance of The Shire Country Park, a green wild-nature park along the river Cole, at Mugham-et-Azam Banqueting Hall. The parts we went through were Muslim and immigrants parts, but we did not feel worried at all. The streets were almost empty this early because people were already at work and shops were not yet open. It seems that all the information of this area being a no-go zone is just a medial bubble. At least by daylight it is safe to walk through. No one at all cared about two girls with backpacks passing through.
The Shire Country Park path leads directly to Sarehole Mill. But because I did not properly read the nformation on their website, we arrived there too early. It opened at 11am, so we had nearly an hour. So we rested on a bench in front of the shops at the Wakegreen Road and Swanhurst Lane roundabout. There is a snack bar that was originally called Hungry Hobbit but due to legacy issues had to be renamed to Hungry Hobb — a compromise, since removing the last two letters was obviously the easiest solution. We ate the elevenses we brought with us and then went back to the mill.
Entrance to the mill’s yard, pool and tearoom is free of charge, but if you want to see the exhibition inside the mill you must pay 6₤. (Why does entrance to all paid facilities cost 6?) Right behind the shop building there are metal, already rusted, models of the Birmingham waterworks towers that inspired Tolkien. I really liked the interactivity of the whole place. In Slovak museum it is not usual that people could touch or try out some exhibited items (the notice boards at some outrightly invite visitors to do so) or were provided quests to fulfil. But here it is so. The garden around the pool is presented as an enchanted forest and there are many activities for children all over the yard: there are small tables at which they can learn about and draw local animals and insects, a musical spot with instruments made out of natural materials and garden tools (e.g. wooden sticks xylophone and pot bells), a surface walk made out of different materials to walk on barefoot, and a fairy queen’s throne around which book readings can be held. In the growth around the pool children can look for animals statues accompanied with little poems or tiny hobbit hole doors. There is also a tree trunk partially carved in such a way that it looks like a dragon lying on a log. At the gate that segregated the pool garden from the mill yard is an installation of an old watering can that seems to be floating in the air with glass beads tied to strings coming from its shower head instead of real water. The pool is quite big and at the time of our visit was all covered with green aglae so that it looked rather like a grass lawn. Were it not for the water birds shyly swimming and quacking along the bank one could easily mistake it for a playground; somebody probably did since there was a board warning about it not being a solid surface at the pool. The only con is that the pool cannot be waked around in its entirety because there are paths just on one side of it; on other two sides there is not enough space between the edge of the pool and the fence encircling it to accommodate any. Only plants grow there. At the fourth side there is the mill and a wooden terrace and lovely blooming flower bed. There is one entrance to the mill from this side but the main one is on the other side from the yard. We decided to enter it via the main door. Passing from the back side to the front, I noticed a door accessible only for the work-stuff with the famous movie sign “No admittance except on a party business” in front of it.
The exhibition inside the mill combines the history of the mill with information on Tolkien’s life. The mill history exhibits provide along information boards written in matured and detailed style also boards for kids that explain the used of the various utilities in a simpler, more child-comprehensible way, introduced by miller’s cat. In one of the rooms there is a dress chest that invites people to try on the clothes and become a miller’s apprentice, wife or the miller himself. Apart from that, they (and not only children) can look for burn wood portraits of characters from The Hobbit - I found Bilbo, Gandalf, Thorin, and Smaug (not sure if those are all there are). There are two exhibition rooms dedicated to Tolkien’s life: one at the topmost floor and one at the ground floor. In the top one there is, apart from information posters about Tolkien’s story writing, a sample of his books, Gandalf’s costume and a giant cloth Ring. On two walls there are painted quotes from his books and third wall depicts the front of a hobbit house. In the bottom room there are posters about his life in Birmingham and a TV where visitors can watch a document about the writer at special occasions.
Upon leaving the mill we went to 246 Wake Green Road, a house Tolkien lived in the first two or three years upon their arrival to Birmingham from South Africa. The house stands almost opposite the mill pool. Then we tried to find the entrance to Moseley Bog. Because I lost the map of the park that I downloaded before this trip into my tablet, we asked a by-passer from whom we received misleading for information. Thus we walked all the way along Wake Green Rd to a school until we realized there is no gate in the fence on this side. At one spot, where the fence was broken down, it seemed there once might have been one, but it was all grown over with weeds and no path was visible there. So I had to download it again there and then we saw that the entrance is from Pensby Close. There are many entwined paths across the park, some of them just dirt paths, some made of wood that contravene my attempts to imagine child Tolkien playing there. Coming to an open-space hill with a view on Moseley houses, we met a retired man and chatted with him for almost an hour. It was a good opportunity to practice my English, as shopping does not allow for a longer conversation and the other guests at our hostels rather kept to themselves.
Afterwards, our steps led through Yardley Wood Road, Coldbath Road, Brook Lane, and Addison Road (another one?!) to High Street at which stands St Dunstan’s Church. The old building Tolkien used to go to for mass with his mom and brother no longer exists, but there is a new modern church built in its place. A further up High Street we turned to Station Road that got us to Westfield Road where at number 86 the Tolkien’s lived in 1901. Then we followed High Street again until it turned into Alcester Road. At the turn of centuries the Tolkien family lived at 214 Alcester Road but that house does not exist anymore as well. I was not even able to spot the new same-numbered house even though I carefully read number on all the houses by the road. The span including this particular number was skipped, being probably assigned to houses in some side street. Although, thinking about it later I thought I glimpsed a flat house somewhat distances from the highway with a blue plaque on it. But I did not want to go back there because my friend was already too tired. I sure must come here again and inspect the place closer some other time. Instead, I spotted a jewellery and miscellaneous shop named Smeagol’s. However, it was closed.
Because we were both tired, we rested at St Anne’s Church, another one the Tolkien’s used to go to while living in the neighbourhood, in Park Hill street. That was our last sigh that day. We walked all the way back to the centre along the Alcester Road and Belgrave Middleway where there was a lot of work going on on the road. And we were to witness some more the next day on Bristol Road. It seemed that half of Birmingham is dug up. We walked 23 km in 7,5 hours that day.
Day 6 - King Edward’s School
There was only one Tolkien-related sight left for our last day of this Tolkien pilgrimage, the remains of his old school. This day it got perceptibly colder, especially while the sun was hidden behind clouds, so we wore long trousers and jumpers. We walked down the dug Bristol Road and then turned to Wellington Road because I wanted to pass Edgbaston Park from the West (and well, its name connects to New Zealand and the Tolkien-inspired films). This part of the town seems to be inhabited by richer people because there were big villas, so unlike the copy-paste rows of typical British houses (It was only later that day at the Birmingham Museum that I learnt that the uniformity of the houses was accounted for by the deliberate expansion of the town in the first half of 20th century when town grew twice as big in the span of 30 years). And it was significantly cleaner. We stopped for while at the Vale Pool and then went straight to King Edward’s School at Edgbaston Park Road. The old building Tolkien used to go to stood actually in New Street in the town centre but it became a fire risk and had to be demolished in 1936, after 100 years of existence. Only the chapel survived and was moved to the new place here in Edgbaston. As school grounds are not usually publicly accessible, I expected there to be some reception where we would ask for permission to see it. But nothing such. The gate was wide open, maybe because there was some reconstruction going on in the main building, so we just walked in and not knowing whether to inform anyone of our presence there we went to the chapel. From 2014 to 2018 it holds an exhibition in anniversary of World War I, but it was closed at that time. Later I read on their website that it was due to it being prepared for the last stage of the exhibition, as its contents were changed every two years to present different stages of the war. What a pity! I would like to see it.
From there we went to Old Joe, the world’s tallest free-standing clock tower that is situated in the middle of the University of Birmingham square. The university claims that this too might have been an inspiration to Tolkien’s Two Towers. We visited the Lapworth Museum of Geology where we spent about an hour, then waked all the way back along Bristol Road to the town centre and spent another 2 hours at Birmingham Museum and Art Gallery at Victoria’s Square. It is very good that the entrance to British museums funded by the ministry of culture (I don’t remember the exact name of the institution in charge, but in the simplest way it can be termed thus) is free. In Slovakia we only practice this on the first Sunday in a month yet. I hope our politicians get inspired by the UK in this, because then more people, who do not do so now for financial reasons, would be able to visit the museums.
In the afternoon the sun shone bright and it got hot again, but in the evening, soon after we left the museum it started raining heavily, so we had to hide ourselves at the Waterstone’s 5-floor bookshop. Both of us being bookaholics, we spent there over an hour during what time the storm was over. Then we went to our hostel to pack and prepare for the next day travel home. Including our strolling through the museum exhibitions and bookshop, we walked 20km in 10 hours, making it about 116km in 6 days altogether.
We were lucky to have an exceptionally good weather for the major part of our stay in England. It only got slightly cooler on Wednesday and the temperatures dropped significantly lower and it started to be windy and rainy on the day of our departure. But we did not mind that because we spent the day travelling in a bus and waiting at the airport. The weather also prevented our take-off on time. We were already seated in the plane and everything seemed that we would take off as scheduled, but when the time came the captain announced we cannot fly because of a storm in Germany. So we had to stay in the plane on land for another hour. But what can one do about that. Better be late than crash in a storm. This time I sat at the window so I watch the clouds and land below us and that made for it. This was the best holiday of my life and I can’t wait to get back some day.
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