Messin' about on the river...

And so endeth another Henley Royal Regatta weekend...

And I survived.  I'd like to say that the same applied to all other family members and friends, but if I did that, my conk (yes, conk) would grow to epic proportions having been subjected to the Pinocchio Complex.

Friday was the most amazing day.  How you can go from discussing the contents of someone's wheelie bins in the morning to donning a hat and posh frock in the afternoon is always a bit of a shock to me - amazing what you achieve in forty seven minutes isn't it?

On Friday, we were all at a riverside club in Henley, courtesy of the Father who is a lifelong member. This is a very quintessentially English place, and as you drive down the drive, you can almost feel the door closing on the 21st century as you are whisked back to a time where life was slower and men wore boaters for a spot of 'messing about on the river'.  Unfortunately, this type of place is frequented primarily by people who remember life like that the first time round, so the average age is around 80+.  

This year, son number one and daughter number two, accompanied by Little Miss Tiny and Jolly Sock Man, joined us, and clambering into the waiting minibus at 2.30 on Friday, daughter number two proclaimed that the four of them would drag the average age down quite substantially.  The husband disagreed, saying that the four of them would have absolutely no impact on the hoards of post-pensioners wafting up and down the river in their sensible shoes.  I wasn't really paying attention to this conversation if I'm honest, as I was distracted my Jolly Sock Man's jacket and tie combination.  Let's just say that sunglasses were needed in the minibus, but when we finally got there, he blended in beautifully with all the other chaps who'd brought out their annual psychedelic Regatta jackets.

It was actually a pleasant surprise, as the opening of a much disputed gym has encouraged more younger folk (don't say this with a silent 'l' to get the full effect!) to join, and among the older members, whiffing of lavender and formaldehyde, there were small groups of 40 and 50 year olds, adding a much needed boost to the place.

Well, we sat there on the lawn necking the Pimms, scoffing the scones, and on the odd occasion, watching a bit of rowing on the wet stuff.  The sun shone, the hats were beautiful and the afternoon was perfect.

As the afternoon drew to a close, we all headed into Henley where a table for twenty was booked for dinner.  It was here that all the finery and gentility of the afternoon was thrown to the four corners of the earth, as hats ended up under the table and jackets and ties were shed.  At some point in the evening daughter number one tipped up with Del Boy, who'd obviously had his hands full trying to steer her to the restaurant, and the rest of the night passed in a haze of good food, wine and a whole load of gorgeous love which happens when you are with the people you love best.

And then the waiter brought the limoncello out...





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