June 30, 2002, 10 AM

The decision has been made to punt down the Thames as far as the access way to Magdalen's stretch of the river. We would not embark on such a desperate course except for the hardship entailed by the lack of supplies and the fact that the World Cup does not start until noon, giving us ample time for our journey.

It is not until we have arrived, with the porters, at the place we plan to embark until we realize the futility of our choice - to put six adults into a punt is foolhardy at best. However, there seems to be little option than to continue. Due to the prohibitive cost of acquiring another punt from the natives (12.00 an hour) we are glad that the remainder of the camp has elected to remain behind. The mood at this point is one of cautious optimism - we may just manage to survive this trip.

June 30, 2002, 10:15 AM

Trouble strikes almost immediately. Due to R's insistence in boarding first (and being the only one of us who knows fully how to punt) A is forced to take the pole. A spirited discussion revolving around the wisdom of sending R across the Atlantic in a punt founders when it is pointed out that the pole would have to be at least three thousand meters long, and R would probably survive the trip anyway. A. valiantly shoves off, learning quickly how to maneuver the punt in such a way as to make the least headway for the most effort. I have witnessed A's struggles with the punt and have determined (rather unsportingly, I realize) that there is no way that I will be taking her place. I make a note in my journal to consider the risk involved in punting - if this is to be a regular occurence, it may be wise to increase my insurance premium. And also to write a will.

June 30, 2002, 10:20 AM

Despite being passed by all manner of wildlife, including dogs, joggers, walkers, and other punters, we have made a fair amount of progress on our journey. Disaster is clearly looming ahead, in the form of a massive deadfall across the river. I. nobly takes over the pole, sparing A the humiliation of negotiating it. There is more spirited discussion of the possible merits of steering the punt into the deadfall merely to force I to jump overboard, but it is quickly realized that the situation is too grave for such antics, and the movement required to carry out such a plan would very likely capsize the entire punt.

June 30, 2002, 10:38 AM

Our first encounter with the denizens of this godforsaken wilderness comes in the form of an advance party of ducks. Clearly they do not fear us, as they bring their ducklings along to find out what we may have in the way of food. There is another spirited discussion around the possibility of catching some of these for our lunch, but we realize that the ducks could very easily outsmart us, and anyway we have no net, having foolishly left it with the porters. However, in the event of starvation, we will not be so merciful a second time. E. is of the opinion that she could capture and keep one of the ducklings; I have considered that she is sitting near I. and that the likelihood of the duckling reaching maturity (or even a state of relaxation after capture) is somewhere around nil. Have urged E. to forget entering into communication with the natives, particularly as they bite. Apparently am the only one in the punt to have been bitten by a duck, as all pooh-pooh the notion of the vicious biting ducks of the undiscovered wilderness of the New World Colonies.

I. has managed manfully (all were surprised) to avoid a number of traps, but R. is showing a signal reluctance to help steer the punt by paddling on the correct side, preferring instead to steer directly for the bank just to watch I. cope with the pole.

June 30, 2002, 10:42 AM

Another species of duck has entered the river. This one has blue feet. The consensus is that this means that it would not be good to eat, with E. maintaining that it is a mutant. We put this down to the fact that E. is French, and all people know that the French are mad. This one seems both less aggressive and more wary than the ducks seen earlier. Fine with me.

June 30, 2002, 10:47 AM

R. decided to take over the pole from I. I. is now sitting down actively plotting how to toss R. into the river. I. is also suffering from hayfever. Has not taken kindly to my suggestion that he solve our motive power problems and his hayfever at the same time by hanging his head over the end of the punt and sneezing underwater. As it is, the sneezing has alerted the true evil on this river - the swans.

Am personally of the opinion that swans - like all other birds that bite - should not be teased. Am in the minority. Must admit that it is a majestic sight to see a vicious bird with bloodlust in its eye apparently effortlessly cruising along the river, rather - one fancifully imagines - like the flight of a B-17 bomber over this countryside during the recent War. Have repeatedly warned the others to quit teasing the swans, as they will take your arm off at the shoulder, then beat you to death with the stump. Have been roundly ignored by the suicidal fools. Am confident they will eventually learn - placing mental bets on who dies before my warning is taken seriously.

June 30, 2002, 11:00 AM

Since the discovery of the swans, the voyage has been uneventful. In large part, I suspect this is due to the urge to get out of the territory of these dangerous creatures, preferably in one piece. We are nearing the halfway point of our journey, at which time we will have to turn around and go back upstream, as it is inconceivable that such an intrepid band of explorers and camel salesmen as ours should be required to manually move the punt across the rollers to reenter the river by the recently-founded Magdalen College. Am regretting the decision to leave the porters behind. While it would not have been feasible to purchase another punt for them, I fear that their moral fortitude may have lapsed by the time we return from our extended journey. We could have trailed ropes over the side of the punt and they could have swam along this way.

June 30, 2002, 11:10 AM

In spite of R.'s insistence on steering directly for the bank in an effort to avoid making a decision on which direction to take, we have successfully reversed the punt. Have offered to take R.'s place - an offer that has been rejected, which is good, as I was not serious.

Much speculation and spirited discussion on the possibility of I. having a successful career as a used-camel salesman. Personally have no trouble seeing him in the garb of an Arab - say, a hideous green and maroon plaid djellaba, vowing up and down that the camel he is attempting to sell will make it across the desert. The idea of offering a full refund if the camel doesn't make it at least halfway across the desert may be tempting, but the idea of a camel upholstered in purple shag carpeting has caught my fancy. Am considering purchasing camel.

June 30, 2002, 11:30 AM

Have returned to the swan-infested portion of the river, but the swans are nowhere to be found. Another punt is approaching - upon noticing that it was apparently full of little girls, I. has urged me to help him capture the punt and sell the children. He is urging me to say "How much for your vomen? How much for the little gerl?" in tones reminiscent of those used by the white-slavers of the African Colonies. Am not convinced that this will lead to ultimate goal of camel.

Having horrific visions that the swans are plotting revenge somewhere. At any moment the water may erupt in a hideous swirl of foam and feathers, with a swan launching out of the middle of the pool, and aiming straight for the midships of the punt, with the intent to ram it. Am reminded of speculation that the German U-Boat that sank the Lusitania was firing swans.

June 30, 2002, 11:47 AM

Am writing a "magic-lantern" script of our adventures, but am not sure how to generate the needed "special effects", such as the scene with the flotilla of attacking Canada Geese, to the accompaniment of "Dun-nuh...dun-nuh...dun-nuh..dun-nuh dun-nuh dun-NUH DUN-NUH...Thames Duck." Clearly must be a "talkie".

June 30, 2002, 11:55 AM

Have returned safely to the native village from whence we acquired the punt. Had a brief bout of hysteria as E. took over the punt from R., managing to steer directly into a deadfall, then to go sideways. Evidently the plan was to interdict the river and demand tribute from passing punters. R. mercifully took over the pole again, and we arrived back to find out that the World Cup match had already started. However, the porters have not completely abandoned their morals, so we packed up and headed back to camp to purchase a number of French pastries and watch Brazil pound the stuffing out of the German team.