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Oxford, a city of dreaming spires, of tightly cloistered colleges, and of leisure, never seems to hurry. Perhaps the Professor and the student might think differently as they go from one appointment to the next, but to an outsider, time seems to stand still as it has done here for a thousand years after all no one in these days would ride a bike if they were in a hurry.

So, what more perfect way to spend an afternoon, after a relaxed lunch of warm quiche and cold wine, could there be than to idle on the river Thames or one of its contributing streams?

and the Oxford way is to take a punt, to allow the lady to recline and to look beautiful, while the man does the manly thing and guides the craft to a tree-shaded bower where love may rule the hours.

Hey, that seems a good idea! so we strode on down to the Magdalen College on the River Cherwell. Since the college had been endowed, first as Magdalen Hall in 1448, presumably they had gained some insight into the fine art of punting. Presumably some of the college's alumni like John Betjeman, Edward VIII of England, Stephen Bryer of the US Supreme Court, Dudley Moore, Oscar Wilde, Cardinal Thomas Wolsey, and John Paul Getty, knew something about the art. So how difficult could it be?

Just past the college a cobbled street led down to the river and to the boathouse. Along the banks of the narrow stream lie the punts: flat-bottomed wooden boats. They lie in ranks looking rich brown in the afternoon sun.

After I find that they are 24 feet long and lack a keel. This makes them very stable but also difficult to direct but we don't know that yet.

The boatsman's lad selected a suitable punt, swung it deftly around, and helped us to board very shakily. This flat boat may be stable but it certainly doesn't feel it and I had an expensive camera that should remain dry.

My wife, despite trying to take the upper hand is relegated to sit where beautiful companions recline on cushions in the bow. She doesn't seem very much at ease as I take hold of the pole, especially as the water immediately drags it away from me and the punt floats across the stream and hits the wall on the other side.

I fight off her help and wobbling a little, I take command, point the bow towards one through passage of the bridge, and push a little. OK, the punt moves forward and I wave confidently at the lad as we clear the span. Eventually, however the momentum dies and I have to do something else. I do exactly the same thing, but this time, instead of moving

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