Two-Nannies On The Road Again: Oxford and Family History

To get into Oxford we took advantage of the park and ride, an easy arrangement which eliminates the hassle of inner city old town parking.

It was another hot sunny day, in the late 20's. Heather was keen on a walking tour to maximise our information opportunities, and so we jumped in with one about to head off allmost as soon as we arrived in town. Unfortunately the gentleman guide was a bit old and stuffy, and I didn't particularly enjoy his sense of humour, but he was a ??? old boy himself, and seemed to enjoy sharing some of the insider secrets of being from "Oxford".

We got some of the introductions to how various people select a college, how college life is, the capping process and a walk around several colleges to see the quads, dining rooms and chapels.

Of course I hadn't realised that there is no central campus at Oxford, and that this famous institution is made up of a collection of colleges that are scattered about the city, inside high walls and heavy oak doors that once kept out rampaging attackers.

Now that I am a bit more widely traveled, I regret not encouraging heather when she quietly mentioned opportunities to study overseas during her doctorate and post doc. I dont quite thinki realised what I might be missing out on, let alone her. Oh well, live and learn.

The other highlight of the day, was recalling that maybe my grandfather Harold Rushworth went to Oxford. And so through the marvels of instant international communications, I was able to discreetly message mum and Andrew during some droll spots in the tour (ignoring glares from heather who thought I was just playing with my phone rather than paying attention). And good old Andrew had all the necessary info at his fingertips and sent me back a direct response. As it happened, we were just across the street from Jesus College where Harold had attended sometime in the later part of the 1800's.

I don't know a lot about who the man referred to as my grandfather was. There are some glorious and horrendous war stories, as a daring and brave captain in WW1, who after recovering from a serious leg injury he received on the battlefield, that tore away most of his muscle below the knee, decided he wanted to retrain and fly planes. He persevered despite multiple rejections, as his injury had left a permanent disability, and we suspect he found some high up door to knock on for a favour, as he was eventually given a plane to train in, and ended up back in action fighting over Germany. He flew solo due to his disability, and gimmied up the plane to accomodate his peg leg actions. He was later shot down over Paschendale and captured. Then there is a large blank in my knowledge, and post war he dragged his wife and children out from what I picture as the comfort and luxury of a very upper middle class lifestyle, to the remote bay of islands to take up the adventures of farming and politics. A jolly big adventure from dads recollections, and a crime and shame according to his sister, who lost the social opportunities of coming out in London, and was resigned to the hard physical labourof domestic duty on an unbroken block of land with no facilities and certainly no cook, gardner and maid. It's hard to even imagine how that was for my grandmother.

But looking around Jesus college, and walking the streets of Oxford, I got to imagining some of the fun Harold may have had while being at college and away from home. It's a stunning place, and I'm sure he would have had a few adventures while here.

The pictures below are from Jesus college where grandfather Harold attended for a law degree. It's. Not quite as splendid as the grounds across the street, but what a wonderful place to have come and studied.