A Singularity Among Bookstores

I just got back from Blackwell’s Bookstore, the self-proclaimed best bookstore in Britain—and I wouldn’t presume to doubt them. The place exerts a pull on me like an interstellar body. I pass it every day on my way to the library, and I’ve already been in twice (more if you count their art and poster branch across the street). Every time I go I see more titles to add to my summer reading list, and I seem to come away with a title or two (with the unfortunate side effect of simultaneously weighing down my bags and lightening my wallet).

Honestly, though, I could get used to this routine—wandering around Oxford, exploring and peering into the courts of the different colleges, eating lunch at cute little sandwich places, going to fabulously well-stocked bookstores…even the hours in the library, although it is surprisingly tiring to spend all that time going over documents, considering that I am sitting down at a desk all day. Time is going by pretty fast; I only have one more night here before I go back to London, and that is only because I extended my stay at this hostel by another 24 hours. I ended up finding a lot more to look at in this archive than I thought I would. I am even going to try to go into the library again before I leave tomorrow. However, I am planning on celebrating my last night in town by going to the White Horse, a pub that has apparently been around since the 16th century...