TO THE WEST OF OXFORD, NOT VERY FAR from the railway station and in the oddly-named Fridesewide Square, lies a fascinating building. Dating from the Edwardian era, its primary claim to fame is that it is where the peerless Frank Cooper’s Oxford marmalade was first produced. Subsequently, it has served as everything from an antiques market to its most recent incarnation as a bar, restaurant and arts space, bringing a touch of bohemian civilisation to a part of Oxford that often seems to have been neglected by the aesthetic. (Anyone who has shuddered and shivered through the station — a 1970s monstrosity that was revamped into a 1990s monstrosity that is now being rebuilt again — will know exactly what I mean.)
The Jam Factory, as it was appropriately known, lay about five minutes’ brisk walk from my home in West Oxford, and was my go-to spot for a final drink with friends who were visiting for the day. Until, that is, its closure, after 16 years of operation in its current form, was announced nine months ago. Yet
