So avid followers of this blog (hi Mum!) will notice that I didn’t immediately follow-up on my post about the Nephthys Regatta. Suffice to say it was a bit of a shambles. More accurate to say it was a total disaster.
Rowing up to the head of the river, my Spidey sense was tingling. It might have been that we’d just witnessed a Univ college crew capsizing, that we’d seen 3 crab-catches in the last half hour, or that we passed one girls’ crew which had managed to mount themselves up onto the river bank. Like a cartoon boat-escape scene, the back rowers were windmilling their paddles helplessly in the air trying desperately to dislodge themselves. I could just feel that something was amiss.
Today was bloody cold. As in, icicles bloodily impaling unsuspecting passers-by cold. Here’s a pic of me traipsing to rowing this morning. You can’t see my face, but I assure you it’s that quintessential injured Russian gymnast mix of pained and Seriously Not Amused.
As was the logical thing to do, when I came back from rowing I put on 3 pairs of pants, cranked up the heater and curled up in bed with some microwaved snacking peanuts and my laptop.
As was the illogical thing to do, I started browsing for cute going out clothes and fell in love with this Zara top. Like, madly in love.
After a week of dispiriting, haiku-inspiring coat browsing, I bought this No-Nonsense number on the recommendation of Deena the Debenhams saleslady. I was a bit apprehensive about taking fashion advice from her (her eyelids were patinated with pink and yellow glitter like exotic metal butterflies, and her ample bosom was exploding out of the most alarming leopard-print dress I’d ever seen…) but you can’t really go wrong with plain black wool, right?
My rule of thumb for buying a Classic Coat: would Meg Ryan have been able to wear it in Kate & Leopold? If it would work in both modern day New York and 1876 (and isn’t so ugly that it would repel Hugh Jackman), it’s a keeper.
Deena’s advice for avoiding coat theft (she was super sympathetic to my plight): buy a thin bike lock to chain up your coat at parties. If your friends are particularly sticky-fingered, set live mousetraps in the pockets. Good one Deena!
This. Obviously I’ve instagrammed the shit out of this – I went the whole hog on saturation, filters and that teardrop thing – but I swear the Magdalen tower vista was at least 70% this beautiful IRL as I went for a rain-slicked jog (ok, powerwalk).
So I just fell asleep in the shower…the steam was so soporific that I felt like I was in one of those Eastern European train compartments getting sleep-gassed by thieves. When I came to, I conditioned my hair like 3 times on autopilot. Not the first time it’s happened; my locks are slowly transitioning from sleek to oil-slicked penguin.
I’m officially a ‘Rower’ y’all! I have done exactly 1 water session, but bought all the merch so there’s no turning back. From what I hear, it’s a small step from wide-eyed, skittery novice excitement to smug-faced insufferability. Be prepared for me to wax lyrical about erg times, ‘casually’ mention my 5.30am starts in a holier-than-thou martyr voice, and just become Better at Life (I might even become a double threat and launch a social-networking lawsuit/start hoarding the world’s digital money).
But for now, I’ll just get excited about my splash jacket. Cute, right??