In case I was in any doubt of my current locality and nationhood, I spent Saturday catching up on being British at the Henley Royal Regatta. Swanning around in blazer and college tie; people-watching the beautiful; slumping towards pleasantly sozzled on a combination of champagne and Pimm’s; plied with caviar, salmon and tea at every turn while the band of the Grenadier Guards played on – then standing for the national anthem and viewing most impressive fireworks from a vantage point best described as ‘ground zero.’
Dorothy, we’re not in Arizona anymore.
Oh, and there was a spot of rowing at some point. I’m told.