We've lived here a long time without going to see the annual Barge Race.
Apparently boats need the tide and so it always seemed to start at the crack. Yesterday it was at 10.30 so we could potter down and gaze fascinated at about 20 barges whittering about in the wind. Tacking I believe you call it, I only have dim memories of Swallows and Amazons to go by. Ransome lived in the village when he was writing the first one [and not being a spy or whatever]. Have no idea if anyone won.
We stood for about an hour in the sun and the wind, except when I slumped to the grass demanding a shooting stick, seriously, I can't do this standing thing for long these days. Father's discs were dicky, so I reckon mine are too. Had to have a nap when we got in, shaming.
Calpurnia remained in quarantine in the conservatory, unashamedly sleeping off her breakfast. We feed her 4 times a day, very simples tho, just dried food and warm water. She is getting longer! Today her whole face appears above the barricade. Her teeth are like needles and like any baby everything is explored by mouth, including fingers.
