so, what've I been up to?

Well, having extended my hostel stay an extra night, I had a reasonably early night Saturday and woke up in time to hoist my bags onto my back and check out just before ten.

I then walked to nearby London Bridge tube station and rang the Schwarzes. They're a family we knew in Ghana when my parents were on the mission field. Tom and Elizabeth were youth leaders for us MKs in Tamale at one point. One thing I remember from back in those days was that it was Tom who introduced me to Red Dwarf, for which I am eternally grateful.

I found out which stations to go to, and how to get to their place out in Chinnor, a village near High Wycombe (which may or may not be in your atlases, out between Greater London and Oxford). I had to change trains at Waterloo (for some reason an ode to this Underground station won the 1974 Eurovision song contest...) and then change from the tube to the above-ground trains at Marylebone - I could be wrong, but this is one of the 4 on the Monopoly board. It's been funny seeing streets and station names on maps, that I know mainly from Monopoly. Walking down Fleet Street towards St Pauls the other day, I thought "Fleet Street? That's one of the red ones..." :)

Back to my story... I hopped on a train at Marylebone... or not exactly hopped, more like crawled under the weight of my bags. It was a nice reasonably fast train that hummed its way through the English countryside. Past little English towns with little English houses with their little English gardens. Very postcardy in a rushing-by-from-the-train kind of way. Much like my previous memories of England from a train. I arrived in High Wycombe station, rang the Schwarzes, and then just had to wait to be picked up by someone on their way home from church. Tom pulled up a little while later, and seeing me there, said "You must be Glenn." I had identified myself on the phone as "I'll be the guy with the suitcase and backpack and guitar"... so my self-description worked!

Dinner on Sunday night was rice, groundnut soup (my FAVOURITE Ghanaian food) and fried plantain - which I never liked much as a kid but was really good, and made from actual plantain. When I told the rest of the family in Australia about this, they were rather jealous. And their mouths were probably watering at the thought of real plantain. Oh well, they're warmer than I am.

Today I completely restrung my guitar, having broken a string while detuning for packing in Japan. It sounds so much better with new strings... surprise surprise.

Then in the afternoon we went for a wander through the village, and when the girls were back from school we headed off for Oxford to do a bit of punting on the river. Tom and I got there first, and it was sunny, then the wind picked up and the showers that had been hovering over the M40 decided to come over and see how we were faring, and drop some lovely cold rain down. Luckily it eased off not long after Elizabeth and the girls arrived, so we were able to go through with the plans of punting.

For those unsure of what punting is, I will explain. A quick Google search gave me the following definitions.

Punting means losing a fish under any circumstance. It's an especially bad "Punt" if you hook the fish, get a visual and see that it's a really big one, and then lose it.
from Gil Finn & Gearman Fly Fishing Slang Definitions

Noun
S: (n) punt, punting ((football) a kick in which the football is dropped from the hands and kicked before it touches the ground) "the punt traveled 50 yards"; "punting is an important part of the game"
from WordNet Search - 2.1 beta

and the final definition...

A punt is a flat-bottomed boat with a square-cut bow, typically used in small rivers and canals. The punter generally stands in the middle, or near the stern, and propels the punt by pushing off the river bed with a pole.
from Wikipedia

Yes, it was this last one we were doing. If you check out the Wikipedia page, there's a nice photo showing the kind of boat we were in. You stand at the back and push down with a large pole, being careful not to get it stuck in the mud at the bottom of the river. It's a very pleasant way to spend an hour, going up and down the calm river, seeing ducks and geese etc. I had a go at propelling the boat with the tall pole, and it's hard work at times... my feet were sore, probably from the force against the boat whenever I pushed off against the riverbed. And there was actual sunshine and blue sky overhead as we enjoyed our little river jaunt.

For those who fear my punning skills are falling by the wayside in my travels, FEAR NOT! I had a couple good ones.

As we were punting, we saw a moorhen by the side of the river. One of the girls pointed to it, and said something along the lines of "oh, look, a moorduck, or moorhen, whatever"... to which I said "It looks MORE HEN than duck..." :D

Later when moving back up the river, I said "stroke, stroke, stroke, heart attack!" That one's not so much a pun as a good joke. Trust me, English people appreciate a good sense of humour when they hear it... :D :D After all, they invented it. Just ask John Cleese. Look at how many puns were in Shakespeare. QED.

Oh well, that's OAR-l from me tonight... more later on down the ROW-d.

Sorry, those were rather bad, and not audience-tested.

Glennjamin