This St George’s day heralded, as ever the, annual New Sheridan Club punting trip to Oxford. It was a largely idyllic day, with only one victim sacrificing themselves to the river gods and going home soggy. My family hail from Oxford so I always enjoy spending a day there, pootling about on the cobbles and pretending I’m late for potions class. Due to my woefully neglectful parents who were apparently too busy taking me to the Ashmoleum and Mansion Blancs to do anything resembling outdoorsiness during my childhood outings, I had never been on the Cherwell before. I’m proud to say that I followed in the same honourable family tradition and did little in the way of physical exertion beyond popping the odd cork and left it to more proficient folk (including my sister who is with child) to punt my ass around.
Until next year.