I went to school in Oxford from 2011-2015, and got a chance to go back for a day this past summer when I was visiting London for a few weeks. I’d recently acquired an Instax Mini 8 (after coveting one for a few years…), and brought it with me with a full cartridge of film. That meant I could take 10 photos.
Being limited to a certain number of pictures is one of the most fun things about using a film camera, to me. If I’m using my phone or digital camera, I can take pictures of anything vaguely interesting, which means I spend less time thinking about what would actually capture a place in the best way. It was especially fun to do that in Oxford, where I’ve spent many hours walking around. I ended up taking pictures along a pretty typical day’s route for me, from where I lived, to my college, to the near the physics and philosophy departments, and back again. There are so many other important places to me in Oxford too, but maybe it works better not trying to show everything.
Let me tell you about all the places I took pictures of and drew on my maps!
The back side of the Examination Schools, where all students must take their exams at the end of their program, is a quaint and slightly less-traveled road of Oxford. And, darn it, it can be so cute for no good reason.
Scandale [or, The Continuing Sexual Education of Ichabod Crane, Part the First]
It’s been six months now since the last demon, apocalyptic harbinger of the end times, shape-shifting monstrosity, or other Omen of Supreme Evil has appeared in their lives, and Abbie’s starting to finally think that maybe things have settled down for good (knock on wood, cross fingers, turn around three times and spit). With the two of them, her and Crane, having rented their own place in suburban Sleepy Hollow and trying to make an actual life together, it’s come with certain interesting ancillaries, such as how long she had to spend convincing him that it was all right for them to sleep together out of wedlock, and explaining TiVo (and subsequently finding it filled to the brim with History Channel documentaries which he likes to watch and loudly correct) and debating whether or not to invite him to Thanksgiving dinner. That’s what comes when you’re dating (although dating isn’t really enough of a word to cover what they are to each other, soul mates and witnesses, two halves of one person in different bodies) an out-of-time Revolutionary War veteran with a photographic memory and over two hundred years of life experience. It has its ups and downs. Mostly ups, though. In more ways than one.
Such as the up currently occurring, as he sidles into the kitchen with that butter-wouldn’t-melt-in-my-mouth look as she’s making dinner and announces, “Miss Mills, did you know that there is a gentleman’s publication entitled Playboy that certain uncouth persons claim to read for the articles?”