But anyway; I think this was our 21st boat race party. Maybe 20th. And it's never been about the race, it's about the start of the season. And it's about old friends meeting up and having fun. Friends I've known since I was born, friends I've only known a couple of years but in that time have become special, friends of friends who, in turn, become my friends; all that friendship shit. Which is good shit. The very best, in fact.
Of course, it's not easy; a week's worth of preparation, running around making sure the someone's answering the door, remembering to eat some of the tons of food you've helped prepare, making sure everyone gets a drink, making sure you get a drink, making sure nothing gets broken, making sure mom doesn't notice when something gets broken, making sure you thank the people who pitch in and help (squids) and making sure you finish the barrel of London Pride before you go to the pub. It was brilliant fun, knackering, and finishing the evening with a bowl of chili and a chat about life with Miss Tennant was groovy. Some pics with commentary follow.
Kirsty, Sam and Jo - all of whom I met in Fife, two of whom travelled many miles to be there. Gems the lot of them.
Adam B with my padré - Adam and I were at uni together, and aside from a few grey hairs, he hasn't aged at all. Git.
The evil twin and the lovely Julie. Well, Bill isn't really evil. No moreso than his twin brother Rob, anyway.
Every few years, someone thinks they can beat the tide. This guy tried to drive at full throttle through the river. What a moron. Flooded his engine. I think the boat crew came round just to laugh at him.
Pedro holding court. I think this is a great pic of everyone in it, actually. Even Pete.
An actual picture of the boat race. See? River and boats. I'm telling you, it's not that big of a deal. Slightly above the "24 hours later than yesterday" excuse for a party.
On our way to the pub: your truly, Pips and Lord Rendall giving a thumbs up with a can of ESB. Pips is wrecked, by the way. Isn't it great how people drunker than you make you feel more sober?The furthest distances travelled for the party? Well, Jo flew from Dallas and Bill from Tulsa. Those are vast distances to get wrecked and watch boats. But as I said before, it's not about the race. It's about the good shit; the best shit.
Fucking Cambridge lost though. Gits.