What is "cornmarket"

Usage examples of "cornmarket".

I nearly missed the train, my valise was so cumbersome, and I almost thought, 'Ah, well, there'll be another along,' but I wanted to get to my Willy, so I shouted at them to hold the doors, and I hadn't so much as stepped off at Cornmarket when the stationmaster said, 'Temp quarantine.

Clinging to his hand, I would go with him southwards down the Cornmarket right into the very heart of the city.

I had forgotten so much of life in Oxford and only rarely did I think of walking down the Cornmarket to Folly Bridge and St.

In five minutes the groom was hastening to Cornmarket on the roan cob, and the Rector stood in his study, looking from one to another of his household gods, as though calling them to his assistance.

To findAsil Younis you'd have to go through Hereward Holdingsand Cornmarket Trading.

Evenin the business community, only someone with a longmemory would know that when that building was in useit was run by Hereward Holdings which is a wholly ownedsubsidiary of my company Cornmarket Trading.

Not because Mrs Lynn Markham fittedthe profile of a pyromaniac -anoccupation pursued bymore young men than stoutish fifty-year-old grandmothers,as indeed is commercial travelling -butbecauseCastle Card & Board was a subsidiary of CornmarketTrading and Cornmarket Trading was owned by AsilYounis.

She might look like theorganizer of Castlemere Women's Institute annualPainted Knee competition but she was a highly effectiveprofessional seller who was single-handedly responsiblefor a significant portion of the Cornmarket Trading Company'sprofits each year.

I nearly missed the train, my valise was so cumbersome, and I almost thought, 'Ah, well, there'll be another along,' but I wanted to get to my Willy, so I shouted at them to hold the doors, and I hadn't so much as stepped off at Cornmarket when the stationmaster said, 'Temp quarantine.

Let's pass back down Cornmarket, through the horrible, low-ceilinged, ill-lit drabness of the Clarendon Shopping Centre, out on to Queen Street, past the equally unadorable Westgate Shopping Centre and central library with its heartless, staring windows and come to rest at the outsized pustule that is the head office of Oxfordshire County Council.

I mean, it is basically a wonderful place, with its smoky pubs and bookshops and scholarly air, as long as you fix your gaze on the good things and never go anywhere near Cornmarket or George Street.

And so is fortunate that the neighbouring Cornmarket can offer to the visitor its string of snack bars, coffee bars, and burger bars in which to rest his feet and browse through his recently purchased literature about those other colleges and ecclesiastical edifices, their dates and their benefactors, which thus far have fallen outside his rather arbitrary circumambulations.