The story
As you stand beneath the elegant arches of the Bridge of Sighs, you are looking at one of Oxford’s most photographed landmarks. Officially known as Hertford Bridge, it was completed in 1914 to connect two halves of Hertford College. While many believe it was modeled after the famous bridge in Venice, its design actually draws more from the Rialto Bridge.
But don’t let the grand architecture hold you here too long. To find the true heart of medieval Oxford, you must turn your back on the wide street and look for a narrow, unassuming opening nearby: St. Helen’s Passage.
As you step into this crooked alley, the sounds of the city begin to fade. The walls lean in, the sky narrows to a ribbon, and the stone beneath your feet feels centuries older. This is a path designed for whispers and secrets.
Follow the twists and turns until the alley opens up into a small, sun-drenched courtyard. You have arrived at the Turf Tavern. The Turf is a place that shouldn't exist in a modern city.
It is a sprawling, low-roofed complex of small rooms and beer gardens tucked directly against the remnants of the 13th-century city wall. For nearly seven hundred years, this spot has offered sanctuary to those looking to disappear for a while. Because it was located just outside the official jurisdiction of the university’s proctors for much of its history, it became a favorite haunt for students looking to escape the watchful eyes of their tutors.
Duck your head as you step inside. The ceilings are famously low, supported by heavy timber beams that have seen the rise and fall of dynasties. The air smells of malt, woodsmoke, and old stone.
Look at the walls, and you’ll see the names of those who have sought refuge here. This is where a young Bill Clinton famously did not inhale while studying as a Rhodes Scholar. It was a favorite of Richard Burton and Elizabeth Taylor, and even the cast of Harry Potter frequented these benches during filming.
But the real star is the history of the building itself. The tavern is built into the ditch of the old city wall, which explains why you had to walk down to reach it. In the winter, the braziers in the courtyard roar with fire, and in the summer, the garden is a labyrinth of laughter and conversation.
Whether you are leaning against the medieval masonry or sitting by the hearth where scholars have debated for centuries, you are part of a living tradition. The Turf isn’t just a pub; it is a hidden piece of the Oxford soul, waiting at the end of a crooked path for those curious enough to find it.