Bulgaria with Noodles

The Reverend Graham Shaw, the chaplain of Exeter College, once claimed in a sermon that most Oxford colleges had their dining hall on the opposite side of the quad to the college chapel. This, he asserted, was a tacit admission that spiritual food was just as important and of equal value as physical food.   Well, yes, maybe. On the other hand, the chapel and the dining hall are two large buildings and it makes sense, from an architectural point of view, to put them facing each other, on opposite sides of the quad. The dining hall (or just "hall", as it was frequently called) was in its own way just as impressive and idiosyncratic as the Victorian knock-off of some French church. The stained glass windows, wood panelling, silver on high table and the innumerable portraits made up for the rather average food. The denizens of high table ate some rather superior food, I would imagine. At the end of the meal they would disappear into the senior common room, through a doorway in th...

  Well, you be very pleased to learn that I have decided to give the London Water Closet a rest for the time being. But maybe you are wondering what happened after I left LWC. Well, you are about to find out.    It is imprinted on my mind, the amazing sight of the fat envelope, lying on the doormat of our house in Alma Road. Even before I opened that fateful piece of stationery, I knew that I must have been given a place at Oxford. Yes, why would they send a fat envelope if it just contained a brief rejection letter?   I have almost no photos at all for most of my four years at university, but in the summer term of my second year Tim Hinton contacted me. He was doing a degree in Photography, so could he come up to Oxford and take some photos? Could I put him up for a day or two? I am deeply indebted to Tim for these photographs, as they are almost the only records I have of my time at Oxford.   Who is this young man, smoking the clay pipe and carefully pou...

I promise that this is definitely going to be the last of my LWC reminiscences for the time being, but I really have to write a bit more about Mr. R.T. Davies, my Latin teacher. Yes, you may have already read my eulogy for R.T.D., the one that I never got round to giving at the memorial service. The Rather Tubby Dinosaur was also supposed to be in charge of the College Press, the printing shop that became my sanctuary from the compulsory games that I hated. Well, here is Peter Booth’s “write-up” for the R.T.D.’s memorial service that appeared in The Sower .                                 YOU’LL NEVER WALK ALONE                                    Memorial Service for R.T.D. Roger Davies certainly got the send-off he deserved. The affection in which he was held and the impact he made o...

It is time for some more LWC reminiscences. It was a cold morning in December and I was walking around the Cambridge colleges with Karen, the daughter of my mother’s friend. (Yes, I did have a big crush on Karen, just in case you were wondering.) Just on the off chance that he might be at home, we called at Mark Whittow’s home. Mark was one of my heroes at the London Water Closet (and I did not have many). Even though I was three years younger than he was, h e kindly tolerated my presence,  probably because he knew that I was also a fan of W.L.F. and all things historical. (In particular, I remember Mark patiently correcting my understanding of the caracole , a cavalry tactic in the Thirty Years War.) Not only was he a brilliant actor (his performance as Doctor Stockmann in An Enemy of the People  was superb), Mark was also a school character and an all-round eccentric. He treated the teachers at LWC with a mixture of casual indifference and flippancy. On the morning in ques...

Alistair Swinnerton's excellent blog post about Oxford brought back a flood of memories, but really this piece of mine is just an excuse for having lots of nice photos of Oxford. Whatever Veliko Tarnovo's architectural charms, Oxford has them in spades. It really was (and no doubt still is) an amazingly beautiful city, with oodles of gorgeous old buildings. No doubt there are more than enough modern monstrosities on Oxford’s outskirts, but fortunately I hardly ever saw them during my four years. When I first found out that I had a place at Oxford University (the real deal, not the Poly down the road), I would invariably mention it to anyone and everyone, on all possible occasions. Now I try to keep quiet about my Oxford days. Well, they were rather a long time ago and the memories of those years are so disconnected with my life in Bulgaria. Ou sont les neiges d'antan? I met many rather colourful and / or eccentric characters while at Oxford and one that will always rema...