I guess it's hard to punt when the rivers are in flood. Actually, it's hard to punt when the punts and the docks are underwater. We walked down to The Head of the River, after some tasty croques and cafe au lait, to find that even the waterfowl in the Cherwell were being swept away by the current. So we paused to finish Act V of Othello and then had some drinks and snacks at the pub. We were doing homework, really, finally having the discussion we should have been having all summer in class, catching up on some much-needed girl time, and enjoying the sunshine. We had a great day, though we affirmed the recurring theme of this weekend: if at first you don't succeed, try, try again, and then give up and have a beer. I've never failed at so many things in such rapid succession as I have in the past two days.
The biggest regret, really, was coming back to Lincoln at 6:45 to find a note under Kris' door that Johanna's birthday celebration had congregated and left at 6:30. We are so resourceful that we found the restaurant they were going to with no further information than "Slovak food," but having misread the address and neglecting to bring directions with us, we wound up wandering up and down Cowley Road for nearly an hour, at which point we gave up, sat down at a Moroccan tapas bar, and had a lovely dinner. We came home to discover that we were probably just a block or so parallel to where everyone else was, which means missing out on the post-dinner festivities. That's fine, but not ringing in Jo's birthday stinks bigtime.
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