As I mentioned in an earlier post, I always wanted to study in Oxford. It never worked out and it will never happen — at least not in the way I dreamed the dream. It would require a time machine, the Fountain of Youth, and possibly a more classical education. What’s this? Never say never, you say? I speak the truth here. While it is possible to go back to college in midlife (I did it), the experience is different. I remember practicing conversation in my French classes as an older student. How could I relate to the scenarios of dorm life, clubbing, and entertaining my parents on campus?

I am neither don nor student. The quads of the colleges are hidden behind walls and gates and “no unauthorized entry” signs. The only way I can see them is with a tour guide or during visiting hours with an entrance ticket. I should walk the streets, dejected and powerless, lamenting my lost dream. But here’s the thing: It Doesn’t Matter. I’m creating my own experience.

Every day I have the opportunity to bike or walk into central Oxford. I lock my bike onto a bike rack in front of the Lamb & Flag, a pub whose origin and ties to St. John’s College began in the early 17th century. JRR Tolkein, CS Lewis, and Graham Greene frequented the tavern and it is said that Thomas Hardy worked on Jude the Obscure in the Lamb & Flag. I can walk past the “Bearded Ones” and the Sheldonian Theatre (designed by Christopher Wren) or visit the Old School’s Quadrangle of the Bodleian Library with its doors marking the schools of the university. On April 23rd I can stand in front of Carfax Tower and hear the bells peal for St. George, the dragon-slayer and Patron Saint of the Most Noble Order of the Garter. I walk along Queen’s Lane where all sound from the busy High Street is silenced. And most days I make sure I go to Radcliffe Square and hang out around the circular building known as Radcliffe Camera.

Just last week, I went into Blackwell’s Bookshop (http://www.britainexpress.com/cities/oxford/blackwells.htm) and met Sir Roger Bannister, the first man to run the mile in less than four minutes. He accomplished that feat here in Oxford in 1954. Yesterday I turned down an unfamiliar road and stumbled across the Story Museum (http://www.storymuseum.org.uk/) and a reading of Treasure Island with Philip Pullman, author of The Golden Compass.

I cannot feel sorry for myself, because my education does continue. Every experience I have here stirs curiosity. Walking and riding my bike strengthen my body. Who needs a gym? For the first time in many years, I sleep uninterrupted. Here, in my own little room, I write with a zeal I thought was lost. Maybe not studying here was the best thing that ever happened to me.