We awoke to one of those mornings that tells you autumn has arrived.
We had set off intending to head onward but the weather rapidly deteriorated and as the rain started The Rowbarge started to seem very attractive, so at Woolhampton we pulled over and moored. About 1330, having freshened up and put on our posh frocks, we headed off in search of sustenance. It turned out that the pub was hosting the local Round Table's duck race and was packed solid but, spotting a couple leaving, we headed the rush to grab the empty table. It was well worth the trampling and elbow digging. I know pub roasts are inclined to fail to reach the gastronomic heights but here
As we tottered out on our way back to the boat the heavens opened and by the time we had gained the shelter of Armadillo our Sunday finery was looking decidedly bedraggled, nothing left to do but put the feet up for an afternoon forty winks.
Watch this space..........