Freak weather

Yesterday, I was rowing in short kit and sorely regretting not having my sunglasses with me. Several women had decided it was time for crop tops, and a few chaps were rowing bare-chested. The river was full of small boats and scullers. It was an idyllic spring/summer scene.

It was therefore with some disgruntledness that I saw the snow this morning had reduced visibility on the river to dangerous levels. The water was beautifully flat, but if anyone was out on the river enjoying the smooth ride, we couldn't see them. It was a peaceful and picturesque walk to the club, where I found some of the squad cursing the lack of visibility. As we couldn't get out on the water, a session in the gym awaited.

A disgruntled duck

When I emerged to head home a couple of hours later, the snow had already been shared by others, and it was no longer the charming, undisturbed scene that had greeted me earlier. The snow had been defiled, trampled underfoot, its crispness turning to slush and discoloured by the London grime. A few hundred metres further on, I found these chappies: 

I no longer minded the evidence of other people enjoying the snow...