The Henley Regatta

On Paper:

A quintessentially British day shared with old friends, a picnic and a few bottles of prosseco enjoying some watersports…

 

In Reality:

My dear friend Jenny, requested my company at the Royal Henley Regatta as a final farewell before she left the country. I arrived and saw my old university friends already in the marquee – I was nervous and excited to see them all as it had been so (so) long!

“Jenny! I can’t believe you’re leaving for Australia!”

“I know!”

“How does Alexander feel about this?!”

“Debbie we broke up eight months ago.”

And so the afternoon continued –

We cheered on rowers…

And other people watching the rowers…

Took group photos…

 

It all went dark. I lost three crucial hours. When I finally came back to planet earth everything around me had changed. I was no longer surrounded by old friends, I was alone, with no bag, no shoes and no phone in a field…

 

But it wasn’t a handsome gentleman in a striped blazer who answered my wails.

“Madame what seems to be the problem here?”

But this could be my last chance of a free lift so I went for it.

“I’VE LOST EVERYTHING!! MY LIFE IS RUINED”

“Please calm down Madame – what is your name?”

“It’s Debbie”

“Ok Debbie – you’re very drunk right now and you need to calm down.”

“But I don’t have any money and I don’t know anyone’s numbers to call! I just need to get back to London…”

“Well I’m sure there is one number you know.”

“Whos?”

“Your mother’s.”

“COME BACK HERE DEBBIE!!”

“YOU ARE NOT CALLING MY MOTHER!!”

“YOU ARE NOT SAFE ON YOUR OWN RIGHT NOW DEBBIE!!!

“AND I MIGHT AS WELL BE DEAD IF YOU CALL THAT WOMAN!”

I ran through the other marquees and the car park. The policewoman was right on my tracks – she was fast, but I was longer limbed and fuelled with fear. I sprinted into the China White marquee and finally spotted a place to hide.

The cloakroom attendant stared, baffled.

“Why are you in here?!”

“Is there a policewoman out there?

“No? What’s happening?!!”

“Oh nothing – she’s obsessed with me, can I have this coat?”

“No! This isn’t a shop!”

I waited around 20 minutes, trying to think of a way to return to London barefoot, when I heard some Canadians in the distance …

“Are we going back to yours?”

“Yeah – I’ve already paid for us to get taxis, not getting the train back to London at this hour.”

The Canadian collected her coat…

And I followed.

They were getting into the taxi and I needed to grab their attention so…

 

The taxi driver and Canadian’s came rushing out.

“What is going on here?”

“THAT DRIVER NEARLY RAN ME OVER!”

“SHE’S LYING! SHE WALKED IN FRONT OF ME!”

The Canadian’s took charge.

“Where do you need to be?”

“I need to get to London! But now I fear my legs are no longer able to carry me.”

“YOU WALKED INTO MY CAR-”

“Look, we’ve got a spare space in the taxi if you want it?”

Smashed it.

“I forgive you Mr Taxi driver.”

 

The Worst Morning Ever.

I awoke the next day on a strange sofa, head thudding, mouth drier than my celibate fanny and could hear my new friends having sex in the room next door –

Whilst I looked above me at the only things attracted to my body – a couple of flies waiting for me to perish.

I got up from the sofa and walked towards their room and knocked on the door.

“Hello? Can I come in?”

Didn’t wait for a reply and let myself in.

“JESUS DEBBIE!”

“It’s fine – I’ve seen thousands. Guy’s I’m a bit stranded?”

The Canadian girl looked at my pale face and understood in girl code – she had to help me.

“Where do you need to get to Debbie?”

“Clapham Junction?”

“Ok. So I spose you don’t have a phone?”

“No.”

“Shoes?”

“No.”

“Money?”

“Well, I never have that.”

The Canadian girl booked me a taxi off her phone, as I scoured her boyfriend’s room for some clothes..

“Can I borrow this top?”

“No that’s Armani Debbie!!”

“Don’t be mean to her – give her something.”

“She can have that.”

“Do you need to call anyone Debbie before you leave?”

“No, my housemate should be in.”

So my taxi arrived and I said my goodbyes…

“I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me. Thank you for my green t-shirt.”

And I sprinted out the door to the taxi but then-

“Hello, what’s the name?”

I didn’t know where I was, let alone anyones names –

“Well actually it was my friend who booked it so-”

“That’s fine – what’s their name?”

“I DON’T KNOW THEIR NAMES – I DON’T KNOW WHERE I AM – I DON’T KNOW ANYTHING!!” 

“Ok, madame I can see you’re very distressed – I’ll take you.”

“Thank you.”

“…Good night?”

We arrived back at my flat.

My housemate wasn’t in.

Cost:

£50 (not including; new phone, new make up, £70 spending money, new driving license and my housemates new suede clutch bag) 

Dangerous Rating:

Pre blackout: A wonderful afternoon reminiscing and enjoying a real British day out: 10 out of 10.

Post blackout: My housemate returned home three hours later…

“Debbie?!!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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