The RAF Bar

The ceiling of the rear bar at the Eagle is covered with graffiti. RAF and USAF airmen stood on the tables and used candles, lighters and lipstick to write their names and squadron numbers on the ceiling.

Since we'd been to the cemetery earlier, I couldn't help wondering if some of the Americans who wrote their names on that ceiling may have ended up buried far from home only a few miles away.

Cambridge American Cemetery

Slight sidetrack here. On the way into Cambridge we stopped at this cemetery, where 3800 Americans killed in World War II are buried.

It's a beautiful location, and the visitor's center is excellent. There are exhibits outlining the history of American involvement in the war, the large numbers of military and support who were suddenly occupying a relatively small island, and individual stories of some of those buried in the cemetery.

I was glad that we had gone there on the way to Cambridge, rather than afterwards as originally planned, because it made the visit to the Eagle more poignant.

Not my Aunt Maureen's bangers and mash

 

I seldom take pictures of my food, but I made an exception for a couple of reasons. First, the other students were so envious when they heard we were having lunch at the Eagle on our field trip—not because of the historic connections, but because we were going to skip the execrable bag lunches they give us on field trip days.

And second, because this was not what I was expecting when I pre-ordered the bangers and mash. Grilled sausages in a Merlot reduction with chive mashed potatoes? My aunt Maureen, who was an excellent plain English cook, would definitely have been rolling over in her grave.

And it was delicious, though I had to leave half of it in order to have room for the blackberry tart with clotted cream ice cream. I do have my priorities.

The Eagle

We had lunch at this pub, a short walk from the Cavendish. It's been around since the 17th century, but one of the things it's famous for is being the place where Watson and Crick announced the discovery of DNA. Which does seem like the most English thing ever (and yes, I know that Watson was American.) You make one of the biggest scientific discoveries of all time, and your first reaction is to stroll over to the local pub to tell your colleagues about it.

It was impossible to get a good photo of the plaque, but this is what is says:

On this spot, on February 28, 1953, Francis Crick and James Watson made the first public announcement of the discovery of DNA with the words “We have discovered the secret of life”.

Throughout their early partnership Watson & Crick dined in this room on six days every week.

The Old Cavendish

This was much more exciting than the colleges. The lab building was unfortunately closed for repairs, so we weren't able to go inside. But we lingered in the street outside and took pictures, awestruck and giddy at the same time, like pilgrims at a holy site. Or teenage girls outside a hotel where the Beatles were staying.

We'd been talking about James Clerk Maxwell and Ernest Rutherford in our class, and this was their lab! This is where J.J. Thomson discovered the electron! This is where Crick and Watson (and Franklin) discovered the double helix! I felt smarter just being in the same neighborhood.

St John's College

This is certainly different. Most of the older buildings in the Oxford colleges are constructed in the same yellowish Cotswold stone, which gives a kind of architectural unity to the city center. There are many brick buildings in Oxford of course, but I've never seen one quite like this. I think of brick as being a newer material, but the Tudor-style brick and stone of the main gate on the left dates from the very early 16th century, around the time of the college's founding in 1511.

The building on the right, on the other hand, is the Old Divinity School at St John's, and that dates from the late nineteenth century, exactly as you would expect.

Trinity College

Trinity was founded in 1546 by Henry VIII, whose statue adorns the Great Gate in the picture on the right. (One thing that did strike me about what little I saw of the Cambridge colleges was how many statues they had adorning their facades, which you don't see much of in Oxford.)

The Great Court, on the left, is described as the largest enclosed courtyard in Europe. It's famous for the Great Court Run, the attempt to run all the way (339 metres, 371 yards) around the court before the clock can finish striking twelve. (This was depicted in Chariots of Fire, although Harold Abrahams never actually made the run.)

The fact that it's called the Great Court, rather than the Great Quad, is one of the little language differences between the two universities, like calling the person who cleans your room a scout (Oxford) or a bedder (Cambridge), and your classes tutorials (Oxford) or supervisions (Cambridge). What you are most likely to notice in this picture is how brown it is. I think it only rained once the entire month I was in England, and not for very long, and though Yorkshire was still fairly green, even there we skipped a planned visit to a waterfall on the excursion to the Dales because there wasn't any actual water in the falls.

King's College

If you don't know a lot about the Gothic and neo-Gothic architectural details (and I really don't) this college which dominates the center of Cambridge looks very similar to Magdalen College in Oxford, which was founded around the same time.

That's the famous chapel on the right.

These streets, for example

One obvious difference between the two locations is size: Oxford is much larger and more urban. The city center with most of the college buildings is surrounded by miles of ordinary English neighborhoods with homes and businesses on every side. (I've heard people say that Cambridge is a university first and a town second, and Oxford is the other way around.)

But in the city centers, they are a lot alike. These two Cambridge streets—Free School Lane, by the old Cavendish Laboratory, and Trinity Street, home to the college—could easily be plopped down in the middle of Oxford.

Cambridge

Punts on a river. It's the Cam, not the Cherwell, and that's the original Mathematical Bridge rather than the replica at the Iffley Lock in Oxford, so this must be Cambridge.

I only spent an afternoon there, so have no real standing to list the similarities and differences between the two college towns (not that that has ever stopped me.)

I had a couple of dreams this week when a bad cough was disrupting my sleep where I was wandering through the streets of Oxford, completely lost, and finally realized I didn't know where I was because I was actually in Cambridge, not Oxford. But honestly unless I was standing in front of one of the colleges or the Corpus Clock or this bridge, I probably wouldn't know the difference.

The Cherry Orchard

I've just noticed for the first time that I never downloaded any of the pictures I took on our second weekend excursion, to Stratford-upon-Avon, so all I have from that day are phone pictures of the RSC theatre before the performance of The Cherry Orchard.

I don't think this is any great loss; the world does not need another picture of Shakespeare's Birthplace, and it saves me from any obligation to sort through them and see if any are worth sharing.

The pictures are gone because my camera was stolen, along with everything else in my purse, from a Starbucks in London. Obviously I managed to get myself back to New York despite having no credit cards, no cash, no phone, and no house keys, thanks to a lovely friend who swooped in and gave me a shoulder to cry on plus a much-needed loan, but it was not an experience I ever want to repeat.

As for The Cherry Orchard, I enjoyed the performance though I did think it emphasized the comedy at the expense of the underlying sadness. And the seats in the galleries at the RSC theatre are wickedly uncomfortable, with so little legroom even a 16th century audience would have felt cramped. My 20th century knees were outraged, but even those of my classmates with healthy joints were complaining.

I am home

And I am recovering from a nasty cold, so I absolutely do not have the energy or inclination to go into my misadventures and misfortunes in London.

I will start posting pictures from the field trip to Cambridge at some point, maybe today, maybe not. But since I definitely feel like the back end of something, these fuzzy sheep butts in Avebury seem appropriate.