Dave has explained the way to his flat on E-mail but this
is of no use when youre on your bicycle. So I try to
make my way through Swindon and discover more roundabouts
than I could dream of.
The magic roundabout' for instance, which is supposed
to be an experiment, is unbelievable. You know when you drive
in but due to a combination of more internal roundabouts you
can only hope you can get off by teatime.
Dave is welcoming me with the famous British hospitality.
We talk nineteen to the dozen till half past midnight. Then
we call it a day (or better a night) as Dave has
to get up early to go to work.
Walking in Englands oldest university town, Oxford,
I imagine having an appointment with Inspector Morse. All
the time I have the impression to be in a life TV series.
In the evening Dave is taking me to the pub (where else could
a true Englishman take his guest!) I meet Daves friends,
who after hearing the reason for my visit secretly wish they
were back in there twenties. I presume that for most of them
this is way back in time.
For a moment they think Im a real Scotsman: not because
Im wearing a kilt today but because of my name: Ewan.
But unfortunately Im not related - as far as I know
- to the well-known beer Mac Ewans. With a name like
mine I should have asked these lads to sponsor me! Cheers!