The local barge-bint in charge at Tamworth was not too happy that we'd arrived late, and even less happy that we'd managed to lose several items on our boat, including 2 out of 3 metal mooring pegs, an indeterminable number of glasses and a very large wooden plank. Our old mate Terry picked us up and shuttled us to Oxford, which as the name suggests, was a really cool University Town. There were many bicycles there, and a guy on the main street that kept getting people to tie him up with chains.

A few hour later, we'd had our fill of Oxford, and were greeted at the train station by some friends of the Martins - Fee and Mike - and were promptly whisked away to their home in the quaint little town of Ashbury in Oxfordshire. Their house was particularly awesome, and indeed did in many ways resemble the shire, with lots of wood and veeery low ceilings and doors.

Unfortunately, a hobbit-house is not very big, so some of us stayed the night at the Rose and Crown, a sweet pub just around the corner.

The next morning, Fee and Mike took us all to see the nearby White Horse of Uffington, a huge stylised horse engraved into a hill, exposing the underlying white chalk.

Local folk maintain that it is a portrait of the dragon slain by Saint George on the nearby Dragon Hill, on top of which there is a bare patch of chalk upon which no grass will grow, apparently where the dragon's blood spilled.

All in all, an excellent time was had in Ashbury, thanks to the hospitality of Fee and Mike. We were sad to leave, but the journey had now taken on a life of its own, and would soon be depositing us in London. But that's another story...