It’s been twenty years since I last read Peanuts, but I used to be a huge fan. A huge fan. Reading about Charlie Brown taught me a lot about life, I discovered new words – “anxiety”, anyone – but mostly they just made me laugh. I could relate to all of the characters at some point in my life.

What a joy it was for a little pre-teen Finnish hockey guy to find a Zamboni on the pages of Peanuts, let alone strips abut Snoopy playing hockey. “Here’s the world famous hockey player winding up for one of his spectacular slap shots…”

I always thought Charlie Brown was too hard on himself. It’s not wishy-washy just to change your mind. Even if you do it many times, in rapid succession. Charlie Brown just didn’t know how to trust his instincts, just like I didn’t trust mine at the LA Six Flags when Wife wanted to ride that monsterous rollercoaster named Goliath, and I told her I’d do it, so I waited in line for 45 minutes even though I then had to back out at the last second and do the loser walk all the way back, excusing myself to the people braver than me.

I just re-re-evaluated the situation.

And, we all have had our own red-haired girl somewhere.

Back in 1983, I spent a good month in Oxford, England, on a language course, trying to learn Queen’s English, and see the world, I suppose. Once again, I don’t really remember how and why I took off on such a trip, I don’t remember having such drive back then, but I did, and I chose Oxford because, well, it was Oxford, the home of the most famous university in the world. Besides, I don’t like water or beaches so Brighton was out of the question anyway.

Maybe money was an issue, too.

It was in Oxford I found Peanuts for real. The book store on the square next to the Carfax Tower had a good selection of the Peanuts paperbacks. Carfax Tower was our hangout. On our first day in Oxford, we were supposed to meet “at Carfax, at noon”. I came in early but couldn’t find Carfax, didn’t know what it was, so after twenty minutes of desperate staring at the map, and all street signs, I finally asked a nice old lady for directions.

“Carfax? You are in Carfax, luv” she told me.

I just stood in front of the book store, and soon, the rest of the Finnish teenagers showed up.

But to Oxford I went, and I’m happy I did. I had a wonderful month, living at Jim and Joyce Ferguson’s second-floor room, riding the buses, playing soccer in the park, eating real hamburgers at real burger joints, eating chips with vinegar, learning how to count in Italian, learning that counting to ten in Italian doesn’t impress all Italian girls, and going punting on the shallow river that flows through the green town.

Joyce fed me English sausages and beans for breakfast – which is why I hung out at the burger joints – andwe watched cricket and the Wimbledon on TV with Jim. Every week I’d go down to the bank and cash a few of my traveler’s cheques, courtesy of my good friend Tommy Cook.

By the last week, there wasn’t much left to cash. In fact, I had spent almost all my money. Besides the “I’m with Stupid” T-shirt that had the witty drawing of a finger pointing to my right, I didn’t have much to show for my time in England – we even made a trip to London – except for quite a few Peanuts paperbacks.

The day before the end, before the bus would take us back to Gatwick, and a plane would take us back to Finland, and all that punting and hanging out would turn into us being pen pals, until the postcards wouldn’t come at all, we had decided to go for a final dinner. At a really nice place, instead of some … burger joint.

My problem: Now I had no money.

And when I say “no money”, I mean … I had almost enough money to buy myself a Coke. But the others insisted that I come a along, so I did. We did go to a nice place, and the others did order nice food. I think I sat between a steak and a burger, and I ate some French fries off my friends’ plates.

Maybe they should have been wearing the T-shirt I was wearing.

When I landed in Helsinki two days later, I hade exactly five pence in my pocket.

But I was wearing a new, cool Peanuts sweater.

Good grief.