Row, row, row yer boat
2. Betwixt Goes Downstream, and Upmarket
Dear Reader, having indulged you all in a fair bit of my global glory, please allow your indulgence in some continued ramblings of quasi-humorous manner, if you would. Take The Thames, for instance. It’s yours.
One has recently headed Henley way (location of my dear friends’ Harrowing Hostelry and Eton Eaterie) which is clearly beautiful in a kind of “oh yaaah, we’re massively rich, hug my Cox (aquatic person, that is)” kind of way, where everyone awaits the Big Oars arrival: Rowland, Rowena and Rowlex, all ideal if you desire a little wealthy canoedle (see what I did there? No?).
Regatta time, the lads here all OD on Prosecco, later decorating the Locale with Pavement Pizzas, particularly in The Square in fact, where the local Cathedral dates back to 1204, though the local Starbucks is even older, stately styled in Mocha Tudor. Banks...
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