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So twice five miles of fertile ground
With walls and towers were girdled round :
And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills,
Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree ;
And here were forests ancient as the hills,
Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.

 
 
 
Cambridgshire, Big Sky country
 
 

Well, it was only a matter of time before the first of us ventured out into the country to listen to the broccoli growing and visit Sally in her country getaway.

Yes, you can see cows and sheep from Sal's bedroom window (don’t ask) and her kitchen is orange, but it is very restful up there and living proof for those who’ve never been North of the Watford Gap that the countryside can really be rather Arcadian and bucolic.

Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it kids.

 

Of course, Sally's anticipation of the move would have been greatly heightened if someone had told her that Cambridge actually has more than three streets, something that both Kay (very astute, medical type) and Sal (not quite so brainy but with a winning smile and a PhD) managed to miss in a whole day’s shopping in town.

Girls, there’s no fire so stop hanging around the fire station watching the lads polish their engine and get about town a bit!

 
 
  Speaking of polishing engines, we were treated over lunch to Ken’s blow by blow account of his last visit to Cambridge where he and Barbie had the pleasure of witnessing a great deal of youthful exuberance in a punt under the bridge.  
 
 
  What brought this train of thought on you ask; could it be anything to do with the standing order to Ann Summers on his credit card statements? I shan’t say anymore on the matter, but you might want to ask him at the next club night.
 
 

Punting on the Cam was delightful, the sun was shining for us, the grass was green, the girls of Balliol were at netball practice. Andy had a decent stab at the pole but hadn't reckoned with the intensly competetive nature of Gary "Hawaii 5-0" Sherriff, determined to take his captives out on the fastest hour's relaxing punting the Cam had ever seen.

 
   
 
  I swear whole punts full of Japanese tourists were swamped by our wake and the bed of the Cam is littered with bobby sox and Nikon’s to this day.
Mui macho Senor, mui macho!
Andy moving the punt into "attack" position
 
     
 

For our edification and the amusement of the other punters and the onlookers on the river bank Sal took over the punt and made her way up-river in a charming, relaxed meander, stopping every few yards to make friends with a new punt or to admire a particularly low-hanging willow tree. She’s capable of some surprisingly salty language when she is aggravated I can tell you!

Just the one question though; after all that pleasant punting, we still don’t know what the stick you move the punt along with is called, do you?

 
Anyone else noticed Andy's resemblance to Kevin Spacey?
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