Spi’ on me Pe’er!

The arrangements for Obama and Her Majesty’s trip were nothin to it. Shannon v Dublin, Birmingham v Gatwick, the blue plane v the green plane, the whys, wherefors, bag size and what shoes and jacket to bring were all put through the ringer. Finally, they got here. The big trip trasna an uisce for Nana and Grandad from Galway was undertaken. My folks never had the pleasure of flyin Ryanair. The brother reckoned they would arrive over with their accoutrement in a Lydon House bread wrapper, what with all the warnings of bag sizes and battle axes waiting to frisk you before boarding. Our three were thrilled to see their grandparents and keen to show off their school. As it was Y4’s turn for assembly and WWII being flavour of the month, Nana and Grandad learned buckets about the blitz, evacuations and rationing. Later, off to Oxford with us to blend in with all the other tourists. Into Christchurch, one of the many colleges in the University of Oxford and home to Christchurch Catherdral, Grandad treats us to the tickets. ‘Are ya still a student’ he says, loud as you like, the queue growing longer with Japanese men in cool runners. ‘My student card only works in Ireland’, shushing him along. Morto.  He gets to the counter and says to the cashier, ‘two OAPs and one student, good man yersel’. ‘Now, didn’t I tell ya, it pays to ask’ delighted with his one pound saving. We meander through into the dining hall where students and academic staff alike have their meals and deliberate all the ologies. The long tables are set up for lunch.  Custodians in bowler hats are strategically positioned to answer any touristy questions and make sure you don’t rob the cutlery. The hall is steeped in history. The many powerful brains responsible for all that schoolin’ are immortalised in portraits hanging from dark Jacobean panelling. Alice Lidell and the college surrounds  inspired the mathematics lecturer Charles Ludwidge Dodgson (aka Lewis Carroll) to write Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland.  The White Rabbit in the book was apparently inspired by the dithery old professor who was always late for the college’s formal evening meal, in the famous dining hall. Story goes he would shimmy up the private stairs to the side of the head honchos top table, attempting his tardiness to go unnoticed and slide away again when finished.  This story was recounted by the lady behind me, she sounded like a just-the-facts-mam kinda person. Here, in this great hall Michelle Obama addressed academia, staff and students on the recent Presidential visit. And here, of course, was where much of Harry Potter was filmed. Now after all that, those historical facts and points of interest and much more, what does Grandad comment on?...the chairs. ‘Jaysus, their a fine chair, they don’t make them like that anymore’ pulling one out and sitting down. Yes there was an audible noise of it all flying over his head. He’s priceless. But they were fine chairs.

The following morning saw great excitement as the kids were marching in the Thame Carnival and, wait for it...Peter Andre was to make an appearance. Fierce excitement in the town. ‘What’s he famous for’, Grandad and Nana amongst others ask, ‘a six pack and being once married to a scary woman with big boobs’ was the answer given. Off we all went the girls with their butterfly wings, The Small Man, keepin an eye out for the buddies, itchin to get away from us, far too cool to march in any parade. Ya couldn’t see yerself what with all the Cath Kidson wellies and bags, designer sunglasses and pedigree dogs (for the dog show of course). Like a black hole, the Thame Women’s Guild Cake stand where the ladies-what-bake-and-lunch tried to outsell the other, drew Nana in. A dozen fairy cakes, a Victoria sponge and a jar of marmalade later, she immerged. The hog in a roll from the hog on the spit was tasty with the indigenous ale given the thumbs down from Grandad. I was inclined to agree, an acquired taste. Apart from my weak will to say no to the Youngest and having to queue for over an hour, in the rain, for one of those mini bungee jump/trampolining things, in order to avoid all out war, a good day was had by all at the fair. Despite endeavours to go incognito Peter Andre was spotted in a clown costume and a funky wig on the back of a parade truck, beltin’ a few bongos. Spi’ on me Pe’er!