Even on a street as famous as the Oxford High, people sometimes get the impression that it’s not that special. Plate glass shop windows, branches the usual coffee shop chains, a few interesting side streets and cafes and some imposing college gateways. Plus lots and lots of people and a constant stream of buses, of course
But this impression of ordinariness is an illusion produced by the fact that people don’t look up. Maybe they’re afraid of bumping into an irate tourist with a camera, or drifting under one of the aforementioned buses. But the fact is that all the good stuff is up there, beyond the level of human heads and shop window fronts.
Start at Carfax, and look up. You’ll see the eighteenth century Quarter Boys, freshly painted and polished on St Martin’s Tower, hammers poised to strike the bells four times an hour. Slightly lower, over the café entrance, there’s St Martin himself in a fading fresco, hacking off a section of his cloak to clothe a beggar (the kind of thing that brought sainthood back in the third century). On the north side of Carfax Tower is the ‘Peace Stone’ set high in the wall, announcing ‘Peace was proclaimed in Oxford, June 27 1814’. This is a historical anomaly, as the peace between England and France didn’t last – Napoleon escaped from Elba and resumed the war, and the real peace had to wait until 1815.
Now look over the road to 131 High Street and ask yourself why a life size Great Dane in painted bronze should be sitting over the shop doorway. It holds a watch, a pun on ‘watch dog’; but even the family that owns the shop can’t shed light on when exactly the monument appeared, who made it or who the well-trained canine model was. After all, this family has only had tenure of the building for 125 years…
Now look at the upper storeys of the building next door to the dog. This is the former Kemp Hall, a sixteenth century edifice that was once part of the university college system, and currently a very good Thai restaurant. The building next door to Kemp Hall is even older – a fourteenth century beauty. Again, you’ll have to look up to appreciate it.
So, you’ve barely moved from Carfax and already there’s a crick in your neck. But keep on looking up as you travel through the city. Surprisingly few people notice the giant naked man standing on the edge of Blackwell’s art shop on the corner of Broad Street and Turl Street, for example. And what of those three gigantic women adorning the top of the Taylor Institute on St Giles? They are supposed to represent the literary heritage of four European countries, but are said to have been modeled on four beautiful sisters called Ogle who lived on St Giles.
That’s one of the great things about Oxford. There’s a treasure trove up there ‘hidden in plain view’, and there are countless high and dry landmarks and enigmas off the beaten track too. And, of course, there’s also the iconic famous stuff whose track is so badly beaten that it needs to be taken home and given a restorative cup of tea.
Paul Sullivan is the author of 'The Secret History of Oxford' a book which offers the reader an off-the-beaten-track tour of the city’s landmarks and streets, lets the flying cats out of the bags, rattles the dragons’ cages and reveals all the skeletons in the city’s cupboards.