I'm off to that most British of 'sporting' events this Friday, Henley Royal Regatta. My two cousins are both rowers and can get me tickets to the very posh Stewards Enclosure where we can scoff cucumber sandwiches and drink Pimms. This is where the toffs, the chinless, the titled, the most beautiful, rich and snootiest of the British establishment collect on a summer afternoon by the river. Everyone's supposed to watch the rowing but no-one does. (Once you've seen one boat row past you've seen 'em all). Last time I went Teresa got into trouble for wearing a short skirt as there is a strict dress code and I haven't been since. I'm going to have to dig out my old scruffy blazer and too-short cream trousers. I'm hoping my Homer Simpson tie will get me past the border guards but it could be a close thing.
Either way I expect to be very hungover on Saturday morning.
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