In which I Take A Punt

Reminds me of that old joke about the Irish currency rhyming with bank manager – unfortunately historical now after the introduction of the Euro. Unintended consequences to everything, isn’t there? Anyway, I had a very successful morning as a consumer. First up, i managed to upgrade my hired bicycle. The old one was great, and it had gears, but it also had the unfortunate tendency to smear black grease down the side of my leg. Not the fashion statement I’m going for. Speaking of which, my second achievement was to buy a pair of stylish and yet practical and comfortable sandals! And they said it couldn’t be done!

”What a snack!” According to my daughters. (This is apparently a good thing). Simon thinks I look like a Roman centurion, Β but he’s not a fan of sandals anyway. (New pairs of shoes this trip count Simon:me, 3:3 – although I’m going to give away one of the pairs I brought from NZ so I think I have the moral high ground).

After that, it was time for more touristic activity – a trip on the Cam River. There are lots of companies that run punting tours, all very keen for our business, but we eventually decided to go with the oldest, most established one – Scudamore’s. Did you know that Stephen Fry used to run his own punting tours? And he had Hugh Laurie do the actual punting for him. That’d be the life! I’m so envious – I’d love to do that. Imagine, just quietly punting away, lost in your own thoughts, able to leave the charm and wit to somebody else? Bliss. Our chauffeur was a very nice young man by the name of Max. He is a local, and his entire extended family have attended Oxbridge, but he personally is a student at Durham University. I congratulated him on not having to put up with enormous numbers of tourists while studying, but he didn’t seem that gratified. Our tour was lovely and very informative but the Cam was very crowded and Jiminy Crickets, was it hot. Up to 29 degrees today – apparently it may reach 48 degrees in Spain this weekend, an all time record. I would not want to be there.

The loved up couple on the left spent the whole time staring into each other’s eyes, or snogging – a bit of a waste of the price of the tour, if you ask me. The woman on the right I would describe as an old slapper if I wasn’t such a well brought up young lady. She spent the whole time shrieking with laughter at whatever witticism her friend was spouting, and ignoring poor Max altogether.

There are 31 Colleges of various ages and styles associated with Cambridge University (including a Selwyn College, modeled on the one at Otago!) Given the choice, I wouldn’t go to Trinity, in spite of their huge wads of dosh Β (two billion pounds!!); or Kings, in spite of their beautiful Chapel – I’d go to Clare. It’s relatively poverty stricken (only 50 million, the poor things) but it’s got the most wonderful gardens. Plus, they have a bust of Sir David Attenborough in their Hall. He’s an old boy. Well, obviously he’s an old boy – but he also used to live at Clare College.

After the tour we cycled out to Grantchester and had lunch at the Red Lion, which was lovely, but again – hot hot hot. (Am I going on about this too much?). Simon has taken the train back to London this evening so I’m all on my tod – ready for a full day at the hospital tomorrow (where I’ll be hiding from an expected high of 32 degrees).

Anon! (Meaning, in this context, β€œlater!” rather than anonymous – which would be very odd, considering it’s my blog!)

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Samantha
Samantha
6 years ago

πŸ’•πŸ’•πŸ’•πŸ’•

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