My new favorite thing ever. This is the best museum I’ve ever been to. The volume of stuff shoved onto shelves (and in ziplock baggies in drawers underneath) is incredible. The display cases are actually just those kinds of glass-fronted cupboards for fancy crockery. The placards are written by hand in fountain pen or typed on a typewriter. There are shrunken heads and human skulls. British schoolchildren stare, centimeters from blackened teeth and puckered eye sockets, listening to ethnocentric & imperialist nonsense. I’m 90% convinced that it is not a museum at all, but a sort of witch’s outlet mall. Actually, though. There is no way that this is a real museum. It is too fucking cool and too fucking weird. It’s just where witches in Oxfordshire buy their sheeps hearts, Asiatic amulets, divining bones, moles feet, ancient Egyptian mummified crows, South African children’s umbilical cords, etc. etc. One-stop-shop. Special Deals on items “found” in indigenous graves overseas.
500 year old tradition: the Magdalen choir sings on top of the tower at dawn. bagpipers and Morris dancers fill the streets. students stay up all night dancing and watch the sunrise. haunting Latin hymns, silver light on the deer fields, the cloisters filling slowly with sun.