Longing for Wolverhampton

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We've now touched down in Oxford, home to people with suddenly different accents, and apparently there's some university around the place as well. It's quite funny: you can almost immediately identify who the academics are. They're white-haired men with beards and mustaches, riding around town on bicycles. They also wear tweed. I'm not being funny. It's true. I often like to look at university professors and students and try to determine their discipline based on their appearance. Sometimes it can be misleading though: when I was doing my degree in political science, the students were either a bit uptight and wore slacks, or they were hippie social crusaders. Regardless, I can always identify the theatre and philosophy majors by the round glasses. I'm never wrong.

So we've arrived at Jacob and Mari's, after spending a nice night with Paul's aunt, uncle and cousin. We've walked around the town centre a bit, but will have a better look around tomorrow. We've decided to head to London later in the day so we can meet Cheyne and Denise at their flat in Putney, rather than drag our stuff around London, trying to find them at work and pick up keys. We're now able to unload our crates of stuff though, so I don't feel as much like we're being trailed by a piper whenever we go anywhere, eliciting stares.

We got to see Wolverhampton on the train! It was exactly as I'd dreamed it would be.

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