Last Thursday was probably my least productive day at the building project so far. My mortar was poorly mixed. My mud blocks were few in number. My plastering was shoddy and slow. I blame Mama.

There were more people in Mamas last Wednesday night than there have been since I arrived in Ghana. With no closing hours and with large bottles of Star beer costing less than 50p, the craic did not seem to want to end. It was a special night for a plethora of reasons: one of the volunteers, Roxy from Canada, was celebrating her birthday; a Danish volunteer was having his farewell party; Kiwi James and myself presented Mama with the sign we made for her (I think I almost saw a tear); and of course, myself and one of the Scottish volunteers, Mhairi, were entertaining with our jigs, reels and polkas. Africa has never heard anything like her quick bowing and my bouncy chords.

I also last week visited football training in Kwamoso and have set aside a few evenings over the next few weeks to help their coach, Teddy. Unfortunately the team do not have bibs, cones or even a whistle to train. I bought Teddy a whistle so that he could use it with the team in training. I think he is working from a 1980's coaching manual from America. "Soccer Ball Instruction Guide" or something equally sophisticated.

The players as you would expect have a fantastic touch on what is probably the most unsuitable surface to engage in any sport. I joined them in a game last week - a huge crowd of local kids watching on and hoping for the obruni in the Ireland jersey running around Kwamoso to fall on his ass.

This weekend past it was off to Krokrobite, a beach town about 25kms west of Accra and a five hour journey for us from Akropong on Friday. We were ten in total; teachers, builders, care workers - volunteers taking a break. This was the first time I had left the Akuapem Hills since arriving in Ghana three weeks ago and it was fantastic to see the sea. I'm sure the sea enjoyed seeing me too.

One feature of the weekend was our meeting with some interesting characters - Tony the Ghanaian Rastafarian who hangs out in the house of a random Swedish guy a few doors down from our hotel where he teaches African drumming and smokes his little dreadlocked head off; Moritz and Bob, the really sound German and American guys who teach in a university in Accra and who gave me a lend of their surfboard on Saturday and again on Sunday to try and get up on some waves; and Sergio from Barcelona who works in Accra for Coca Cola and who was a big hit with our group - Sergio was even kind enough to give us a lift back to Accra yesterday so that we avoided one of the many horrible Tro Tro journeys.

Another feature of the weekend was music - Friday night was traditional African drumming and dancing and it was very impressive. Saturday was fully blown Reggae, from Paul Simon to the purist of pure Bob Marley. There was dancing. There was drinking. There was…[please insert appropriate vice].

Two things struck me about Accra and Krokrobite in contrast to the Hills where we work and live. Firstly, Accra and Krokrobite are more touristy and therefore the locals tend to harass you more, especially the girls in our group. This is still nowhere on the same level as some places I have been, like South East Asia (or the Dingle Peninsula) but it made me appreciate the much more relaxed environment in Abiriw and Akropong and emphasised just how friendly the Akuapems are. All in all, however, Ghana is free of the usual depressing trappings of tourism.

The second thing I noticed was the heat. While we enjoy an evening breeze in the Hills, Accra just keeps boiling over all night and it is so uncomfortably hot all day. This is fine when you are on the beach and can jump in the water, but if you are trying to relax in the evening it is difficult when your vision is constantly blurred from the sweat falling from your brow into your cornea and when your back appears to be taking a bucket shower for itself on the hour every hour.

Last night I joined my host family in watching Ghana beat Angola 1-0 in the quarter final of the African Cup of Nations. It was a tense affair and a big family occassion of which I felt privileged to be a part. Bring on the semi-final, I say.