Hooray for Henley!

After I spent my entire day on Saturday looking for my missing P60 form (without any luck), I finally packed up all of my papers and passports and brought them to the Post Office. At that point, I should have come home, changed, and gone out to my friend Will's birthday party, but somehow I just couldn't summon the motivation. I was tired and just didn't really want to go. So I texted the Young Dutchman to tell him I was going to be lame, but that I would see him tomorrow in Henley. He told me to plan to be in Henley by noon, so I changed my clocks (at last British Summer Time is starting) and headed to bed knowing I had to be up early.

In the morning I texted the Young Dutchman to make sure we were still on, hoping against hope that he might be running late (as I was running a bit behind myself). Alas, he called me immediately to say that he was on the train, so I quickly threw some things in a bag, put on some clothes, and hurried my way out of the door. Got to the train station with time to buy my ticket and some breakfast, and then was on the train and off to Henley.

I had a pretty nice trip, reading the book I'd remembered to stash in my bag at the last minute, and was amused as we traveled further out of London, how obviously Oxbridge preppy the crowd on the train became. I was joined at Slough by a group of 5 young male undergrads, all in pastel dress shirts and khaki pants, who all struck me both with how good they looked (the easy chiseled perfection of youth!) and also how young they looked. I mean, serious babies. They were attractive, but not in the way of a guy you could actually be interested in. And then although they were all obviously friends and were all sitting together, on the train they all pulled out their smartphones and started playing with them. I thought this was bizarre, as any group of girls that age would all be gossiping with each other. Is this some male thing I wasn't aware of? This would become relevant later.

We got to Twyford, where we had to change trains, and so along with the entire group, I moved over and got on the Henley train, which was just as packed as it is as the Henley Royal Regatta. Everyone was dressed in the wonderfully preppy way that one does for Henley (sundresses and flats for the girls, rowing blazers for the boys), and I stood on the train with everyone else packed in the standing-room-only space.

When we got to Shiplake (the last stop before Henley), I was completely surprised when two of the people fighting their way off the train early, trying to get past me, were the Young Dutchman and Kellogg Boy! I hadn't seen them at all thus far, but with a laugh, the Young Dutchman kissed me, and then jokingly said, "I can't stand to stay on this train for another 2 minutes!" (About the further journey time on the train to Henley). I giggled, as I knew that they were planning to walk from Shiplake, and for a fraction of a second I almost considered jumping off and joining them, but I knew my knee wouldn't handle the walk. So with a wave and a blown kiss, I wished them an enjoyable walk and told them I'd see them in Henley.

Two minutes later, I arrived in Henley, and decided to head into town to pick up some supplies before spending the day out on the river. Did that, and then made my way down to the river to watch the races. Having been to these races years before, I knew that they raced in the opposite direction than they did for the Royal Regatta, and that only way to see any action was to go to the Leander side of the river and walk down. Once I had settled myself in at a decent spot on the river, I texted the young Dutchman to tell him where I was when they felt like coming to join, at which point he called and I learned that they were having drinks at the Phyllis Court Club. I'd never even thought to tell him that the PCC, while a lovely place to spend time, would probably one of the worst places to watch the race. He felt badly, but with the races starting, it was a bad time to move spots, so I told him not to worry about it, and I would see him a bit later.

Anyway, I was having fun watching the crowds. The last time I went to Henley for the women's and lightweight races, it was because a friend of mine was rowing in the lightweight men's boat. It was a really chilly day and it was a hardcore few of us friends who bundled up in coats and stood along the riverbank to cheer on our friends.

The scene this day had at least ten times as many people, and a fancy new sponsor for the women, a company called Newton. They passed out light and dark blue flags, programmes, and those inflatable tube thingies that you can bang together to make noise, so it was really like a proper sporting event! They'd also added a race where the head-of-the-river boats (men's and women's) from Torpids and Lent Bumps compete against each other. Kind of a cool idea, to see who has the better bumps boats. (And since those who row at Henley can't compete in Torpids or Lent bumps anyway, you don't have to worry about overlap in teams). Pembroke (Oxford) women beat Emmanuel (Cambridge) women, but Caius (Cambridge) men beat Pembroke (Oxford) men. Although when it came to the women's reserve boat races (Osiris vs Blondie), Blondie caught a crab about directly right across from where I was sitting. It was heart-breaking to watch, as the boat absolutely stopped dead in the water, in what had been a close race up to that point. For several seconds they didn't go anywhere, until they got going again, but at that point Osiris had easily pulled away and were now too far ahead to catch. All of that effort, undone by one bad stroke.

At this point, the Young Dutchman and Kellogg Boy came and joined me, and the Young Dutchman seemed so delighted to see me. He dashed off to do the rounds and watch the Women's Lightweight race (Oxford won), but then came back and as we wandered further down the river, wrapped an arm around me, I put an arm around his waist, and we walked down the river perfectly in step. It's funny, because you know how with some people you try to do that, and your strides are just off or your heights don't quite match, you seem to never have that unspoken agreement of which way to go around obstacles, and as much as you try you can never seem to get it right? Well, this was the opposite of that. My arm fit snugly around his waist, he is enough taller than me to rest his arm comfortably around my shoulders, and even as we navigated through increasingly packed crowds, we just moved with ease, that unspoken communication keeping us perfectly in step.

And this was sweet and I liked it, but it still puzzled me a bit. The Young Dutchman is not normally so physically affectionate with me, as close as we are. Particularly when we are out with such large crowds and there are so many other women to be hitting on, he doesn't really like to give the wrong impression with me. But throughout the day, any time we walked anywhere, he would once again slip an arm around me, and I'd walk with him hip-to-hip, gazing up at him like any other adoring little girl.

It made me wonder what was going on, but after a little bit I figured it out: When I asked myself the hypothetical question, "How would I feel if the Young Dutchman seemed to be making a strong emotional attachment to another girl?" Given that through all of the girls that have come and gone, I know he hasn't loved any of them the way he loves me, his playboy nature has never bothered me. And then when I reversed it, I realised the Young Dutchman was a bit unnerved, seeing me arrive with the Tall South African on Friday night, and leave with him too. And, on a subconcious level that he's not even aware of, he feels a bit insecure and wants to pull me back to him.

Admittedly I can understand this, as I've felt it myself. When my brother got married, when my best friend and roommate started dating the guy she eventually married, and even when the Young Dutchman himself started hanging out with Kellogg Boy. Feeling yourself being supplanted in the affections of the one you consider your "best friend" is kind of scary. And so, I made a mental note to be more careful with the fragile male ego, and perhaps make more of an effort to reassure the Young Dutchman that, as many other boys as I like, he'll always be one of my key priorities. But goodness, seems like I'm dealing with quite a few fragile male egos these days!

Of course, he wasn't too insecure for long, and after he found some of his boys from Wolfson, I found myself with Kellogg Boy, watching the ceremony (the Cambridge openweight girls and the Cambridge lightweight men had won the last two races), and then we walked back to the Phyllis Court Club for afternoon tea.

At the desk, I was unsure how they would react to the fact that we weren't members, but I pulled out my Oxford & Cambridge Club card, and after inspecting it, they just asked me to sign in and were super welcoming. How lovely is that?

We went and got ourselves some tea out on the terrace, but weren't there long before we were joined by the Young Dutchman and a South African friend of his. (I just really seem to attract Saffas to me these days!) We had tea and ate some nibbles and I gave Kellogg Boy a half a squished ham sandwich that I had in my bag because he was starving. But after realising that we couldn't get any proper food at the club, we decided to head into town for dinner.

After some debate about where we could get the best online deal (the Young Dutchman wanted to do a 2-for-1 deal at Pizza Express), we realised we could get £12 meals at Strada, and so went there. I had a good time just joking with the boys, as I'm always accepted as one of the mates with both the Young Dutchman and Kellogg Boy, and the Saffa was learning that I was pretty fun to have around. The conversational topics were wide-ranging, from the frustrations of dating younger women (no education and nothing to talk about), and thankfully seemed to settle on the joys of older women (they're just more interesting), as the Saffa revealed he was dating a 35-year old.

Although at one point, I noticed that all three boys had their mobile phones out and were playing with them, just like the group on the train had been. At least the Saffa was self-aware enough to realise this and point it out to the others, but once again it seemed to be a definite sign that I was "hanging with the boys", as I have NEVER seen a group of girls do that. And here the boys had done it twice in one day. How strange.

We then returned to the Phyllis Court Club, as the boys wanted to sneak into the Black and Blue Ball that was being held there. I joined them for coffee (although it was just Kellogg Boy and the Saffa having coffee, as neither the Young Dutchman nor I drink it), and we ended up chatting to a group of young men in black-tie sitting near us. As the only one who wasn't currently at Oxford (and the only girl), I didn't participate as much as the others, but it was nice how they all instantly made friends. I think much like the surprised comedians observed, all those of us who might be considered "upper class" and particularly the Oxbridge types are actually super-friendly and welcoming. You'll rarely find easier people to talk to, I think.

However it was getting late and I wanted to catch the 9 PM train back to London (the 10 PM train would be the last one of the night), so I made my good-byes, gave the Young Dutchman an extra hug and a kiss (being reassuring, remember?) and then walked down to the train station. Although I'd allowed 25 minutes, it only took 15, and I had time to sit on the platform and text Kellogg Boy that news.

Once again, I had to change trains at Twyford, so I sat on a bench at the station to read my book while I waited, and I was thoroughly involved in my book when some guy came up to me and asked, "Spare a dollar?" I looked up, had the half-second thought of "What kind of hobo asking for change wears a suit?" and then realised it was the Young Dutchman! Thoroughly surprised and delighted, I jumped up to hug him. Apparently the boys had realised the party was going to be lame, but having missed the train from Henley to Twyford, decided to all just hop in a cab so they would make it to Twyford in time for the Oxford train. The Young Dutchman then urged me to sneak around the corner and surprise Kellogg boy, so I did, attack-tickling him. He just seemed confused when he turned around and realised who it was, asking, "What are you doing here?"

I laughed and explained that I was waiting for my London train, and since the boys had another 10 minutes after my train until their train came, they decided to wait with me. Joked around, the Young Dutchman fed me pretzels, and I once again got a round of kisses when my train pulled into the station, and I dashed off with the Young Dutchman singing after me, "So long! Farewell! Aufweidersehen! Good-bye!" I laughed and sang back to him, skipping down the platform and onto my train. Such a great day out, with such a wonderful guy.