Marooned

Dulcie in the woods above Ten Foot Bridge

Lucky I was not planning to get anywhere soon: so far the summer has not been kind to punters. But I was encouraged to see the use of a punt in a more static way by reading Barbara at Oxford (1907), a delightful light read that has much fascinating detail of town and gown life at that time. Punts are repeatedly resorted too simply to sit and dream in, shaded by boaters and puffing pipes. Dulcibella has now reached a save haven just downstream of The Trout at Tadpole Bridge – much easier to reach across a pleasant flowery rabbit-mown meadow which Leo thoroughly enjoys racing across to get to her. She's out of the swell of the still racing river, and bulwarked from passing craft [not that any are passing at the minute] by clumps of rushes that indicate just how shallow her mooring is. I explored Chimney on foot yesterday, then, Barbara at Oxford style, had tea, fruitcake and a leisurely read in a blissful drop of warm sunshine.