I'm avoiding the monumental task of posting all my photos of my trip to Oxonmoot and Wessex by posting this reminiscence here.
Five years ago I first met Estelyn and Squatter, and Esty visited me in my home town three years ago, so this meeting with them was both a remembrance and a newal of good times and good friendship. Both have changed so little that we picked up where we left off those years ago. And I must acknowledge that Squatter was a gracious and hospitable host, for he not only chauffeured me to Oxford, but enabled me to see Stonehenge, Glastonbury Tor, Cardiff, and Tinturn Abby, as well as Exeter, where I saw those poems in Old English (the Exeter Book) that years ago I struggled to learn in the original. It was right and fitting for a Tolkien visit that I should do so. I especially thank his family for putting me up and welcoming me warmly.
Oxonmoot brought the pleasure of meeting more Downers, for there we had a Fellowship of Nine--well, the number kept changing more or less, depending on who and how many were visiting the bar. But as Tolkien seems to draw gracious fans, so the Downers I met are all fine folk. Although we missed the "initiation" at the Lamb and Flag (I blame country road traffic; Squatter blames my dawdling at Stonehenge), we quickly made amends at the formal dinner Friday night, which began with the ceremony of facing west and remembering the lost of Numenor and the Valar which Faramir and his company observed. An erudite Faramir Jones was there, with a talkative Poison Ivy, and a mad Hookbill, as well as Estelyn and Squatter. It was as if we all belonged together and our table was never quiet; I noticed that other tables noticed our fellowship. Whether it was for the wit of our conversation or the wetting of our conversation, I cannot say.
Some of us visited the august Telerin Circle where readings of Tolkien's work were undertaken while others took a more Tookish approach to the evening. We lost track of Estelyn, Guinevere, and Poison Ivy and I seem to recall that it was past two am when I said good night to Squatter and Rune.
First breakfast means an early rise at Oxonmoot, so I think it was only Estelyn and Poison Ivy, Faramir Jones and Hookbill, who made it to the mushrooms and tomatoes with me. The day was filled with attending sessions, some of which were superb indeed. It was always a difficult choice when good ones ran concurrently.
We divided up for lunch, as some of us hadn't paid for the meal at Lady Margaret Hall, so we wandered off in search of pub fare, which we found close at hand at the Rose and Crown, a pub over a hundred years old (I suppose that's not such a ripe old age for an English pub) with a courtyard covered in vines still holding grapes. It was here that I had my first chance to talk with Guinevere, who is rather quiet, and here that Rune and Squatter came into their own. I always fancy a good wit and here I had two of them. We did make it back to attend Estylen's session on dragons and parody and Giles, though, so the Tolkien aspect of the afternoon was not lost. I managed as well a visit to the Dealer's Room, where narfforc showed me a Canadian edition of LotR, which I never knew existed. Now I have something to look for in the second hand stores here.
Dinner was al fresco as we ate a barbeque on the garden terrace before many ran off to prepare for the masquerade. Costumes were well done and Downers made us all proud, with Hookbill as Radagast, Poison Ivy as Beruthiel, and Esty as Ioreth all winning awards. Following the masquerade there was a competition between the bar and the entertainment, and I won't say which won.
Sunday morning came very early for some of us, but all save narfforc and Guinevere made it to Enyalie at Tolkien's grave. It is a lovely little ceremony which emphasises more the fellowship of Tolkien's fans than the death of the man himself. We were entertained by Hookbill's imitation of a prone Tolkien--he managed to improve upon his performance as Tolkien from last year and that one had been splendid.
Sunday afternoon meant that Downers convened again at the Lamb and Flag, although Oxford traffic delayed Squatter and me from joining the gang until quite late. By this point, I was tired enough that I forsook a tourist trip around Oxford with Guinevere and simply gave myself over to cider and lunch and more cider. An added treat was meeting Mithalwen, who drove in for the afternoon through harrowing traffic. As a matter of fact, I don't think I ever once heard anything good about traffic in England.
Dinner was a disapointment, as we had planned a culminating Tolkien event at the Mitre, where he used to eat with Lewis, but alas the restaurant had no food, as the delivery had not come through. More could be said about English traffic, but I won't. Those few of us left had to satisfy ourselves with All Bar One, with Squatter and Rune proclaiming that a future Oxonmoot must include a mixed grill. At sometime after 10 pm Guinevere, Rune, Squatter and I said our good byes.
I think it is fair to say that all agreed Oxonmoot was too short. For me, who travelled over three thousand miles, it certainly was, but I made up for it by seeing other sights. Yet now when I read posts here on the Downs, I have a smile and a voice to go along with the words, and feel privileged to have met so many Downers this year. Wyrd willing, there will be more to meet next year.