What’s Oxford all about, people are always asking me. Well, I’ll tell you now, and I’ll tell you good.
Oxford is in England. That, I believe, is why it is so Englishy. People are really polite and generally they say “sorry” a lot. People are cultured and spend their time thinking about Ancient Grecian art, and casually slipping French idioms into their conversation. There are two car factories in Oxford, making Minis and BMWs; and the workers in both are known to be great lovers of Aristophanes.
My workplace is a world unto itself. There are restaurants and cafes, quadrangles and courtyards sprinkled around the building. Gentle fountains dance liltingly between Ionian columns, while old men in the shade of the beech tree sit mumbling over time-worn tomes. We have our own library and museum. Employees can attend language classes at lunch time, teaching French, Italian, Spanish, German, Lati,n and of course Ancient Greek. Even the guy who comes on Wednesdays to fix bicycles seems oldish, and possibly quite learnéd.
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