October 1st, 2011

henley literary festival

This was my first time to the Henley Literary Festival, and the high points were having an excellent piratey event with the kids, and getting into the world's largest pair of knickers with writer Steve Hartley, holding a giant inflatable bogey aloft.



The low point was the walk back to the Green Room. Imagine you are walking by yourself along the riverside, which is absolutely chok-a-blok with sunbathers and posh, drunk boaters, and you are carrying a bag visibly full of festival complimentary booze and DRESSED LIKE A PIRATE. Oh, and because you are carrying your own bag with one hand and the booze bag with the other hand, your skirt keeps hiking up but you don't have a free hand to keep pulling it down. Oh, yes. I think I averaged a comment or significant look every four steps. *blushes deeply*

Just to make the day even more surreal, look what I passed on my way from the railway station. I had no idea Dusty Springfield was buried in Henley.



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