I might as well admit this from the start; there are so many Oxfords. Too many.
I mean, you could do tours of the fictional characters who supposedly went there, let alone the actual human beings who really did. If you wanted, you could do a tour of the Harriet Vane/Lord Peter Wimsey Gaudy Night Oxford. Or the Brideshead Revisited Oxford.
Are you religious? There's always C. S. Lewis's Oxford. Or how about some Oxford Movement Oxford? A little Cardinal Newman? Great idea.
What about Shelley? OK, but you know he got kicked out, right? Philip Pullman? If you must. Some Tolkien? Sure. Oscar Wilde? Fabulous.
Are you a Monty Python fan? You could do a Michael Palin/Terry Jones tour.
So now you know why I was awfully disappointed in the tour we endured from a very nice French woman whose accent was so neither here nor there that Mr. Buxom and I thought she was German. Maybe it was because of all the dates she spouted.
So this is what we did.
We looked for the White Rabbit.