A Week's Sights

Ms T was ill; Ms Brightshades was poorly as well; Dr RedMedea was in Greece for the Orthodox Easter ('I like having two Easters', she protested when I said we really should sort this date-clash out); and Fr Allegro (late of Hoxton) was visiting family. My post-Easter week off seeing friends, therefore, didn't go according to plan. Apart from my own family, I only managed to catch up with my colleague from High Wycombe, the Chevalier de Viellecuisine, for lunch and a tour of our old stamping-grounds. 

Despite Ms T's absence, then, I did go to Oxford to make more use of my Bod. card and to see the newly-refurbished City Museum. I remember it from undergraduate days as a tatty little place that tried hard but struggled against the fact that bigger and more prestigious museums had grabbed all the stuff, especially archaeology. I found the 'new' museum very impressive, the various bits and pieces and individual stories bound together by strong graphic design, an unintrusive but definite house style; it's rather a triumph. 

High Wycombe looks a bit tired, and as M. Viellecuisine says, all the 'we buy your gold' shops that opened in the wake of the last recession are now closed in their turn, but that's no different from any other equivalent town. You can still catch a glimpse of a smarter place from the arches of the Guildhall. The Museum is tidy and charming as ever, though it's taking a long time to sort its labelling out!

There was no point going to a London empty of friends I could visit so I decided to see the sea and took the train in the opposite direction, down to Portsmouth. Technically I spent most of the day in Southsea, visiting the Castle, beach, and Highlands Cemetery, and having lunch on the Pier. 'Best of British', insisted the café of its fare, but thankfully it offered some options that didn't involve bacon, including a nice bulky Stilton-and-salad sandwich on granary bread. It all qualifies as British, no doubt. Having finished an ice cream I was sitting by the pier remembering when I and my younger niece had found a mermaid's purse on the beach at Sandbanks a few years ago, and one washed up in the advancing tide right at my feet. Like Mr Benn, I decided to take it home to help me remember.