It's Sunday morning and I'm in Reading with Lola. We're on our bikes and we've got a couple of hours to spare before we have to be at our mate's for Sunday lunch. Now, I'm not the kind of person who sits in a coffee shop staring at my MacBook or reading the Sunday papers. Find me a river.
We head in the direction of Pangbourne. Just outside of Tilehurst the observant GF spots a sign for the Thames path which we duly follow. OK, it didn't really happen like that, I sped off up a hill and dutifully waited at the top. GF eventually caught up with me, panting and screaming that I'd missed the sign. Early morning bad moods and tiredness soon evaporate as we find ourselves by The Thames.
It really is pretty here and the sun is shining. Disaster, GF has forgotten her bikini. Luckily, it's quite deserted so without hesitation we go for a mid-summer skinny dip. The water is cool and silky against our skin. There's not a swan or a boat in sight.
The lazy Thames slowly becomes flotilla city, a couple on a small launch wave enthusiastically at us. A large pleasure boat sails by, a lone man on the top deck gets an eyeful and gives us a leering grin, it is a pleasure boat after all. We're now a tourist attraction as a photographer thrusts his lusty lens through the bushes at us. The once lonely Thames Path is now teeming with families on their pre-lunch walk. We idly paddle about 'til the coast is clear then pull ourselves out of the river through the thick, sticky mud and hurriedly get dressed.
Wow. We're exhilarated and ravenously hungry. Our host was on Masterchef so we're guaranteed a top Sunday blow-out.