A sporty week

Never mind the Wimbledon on telly, my office is in Henley-on-Thames.  With a view of the river. Which has been empty and grey for months, but today is heaving with boats. Heaving. Like in the early 20th century when you could walk over the river, boat to boat, Henley Week. We're getting back to that, it seems. 

It’s too distracting to work. I'm looking at the bit just past the finishing line. It’s not so much the races. It’s the general melee of eights, fours, doubles and single skiffs. And it’s lunchtime when the races stop but when everyone rows out to practice and they run into all the steamers and pleasure cruisers who take their pleasures seriously and their champagne generously – a pretty sight for a wine merchant. Everythin clogs up like Piccadilly Circus on water, and the old Conservancy – or Environmental whatever – river police start bawling at everyone.  So far no multiple drownings; would be rather bad for the regatta.

There's the UK's leading lady sculler; slim blonde, tanned and 6ft 5in I believe, trains hard every day. I'm a keen watcher here. 

 The Royal Barge Gloriana is also here, bedecked in flags, gold leaf gleaming. She's the smaller royal barge from last year, with the oars, Pinsent and all. The big one with the Queen on has been flogged off to the Portuguese. If you go to Oporto you can have a trip up the Douro on her. Lovely; up the Douro.

Last night I abandoned this gathering of blazers for another: Lord’s.

We held our second tasting in the Long Room, 60 customers sipping furiously away watching the preparations for the Ashes.

We had David Gower as MC. He only went and took over the whole show. I thought I might be required to utter a few wise comments, but no. David was away and in his element. Well, one of his elements. This is a man who buys wine by the pallet-load. Knows his stuff. We tasted the Pinot Noirs together; I couldn't fault his decisions. A great palate.

There was hilarity, there was serious. There were nice girls in Lord’s uniform offering little bits of delicious that made the wines truly sing (our cunning plan).  

There was a wine-tasting Ashes with our very own EnglishSparkling from the vineyard behind our offices winning the vote over MackMcPherson's Sparkling Aussie Shiraz. (Easily, Mack). 

The Ashes theme was continued. Against several tables of Australian wines we did have a table of English wines to try, which, of course, included one rather good South African. (Gravel Road from Charles Back). They liked that, the cricket fans.

Anyway, it was a good do, from what I remember. And the 'Laithwaite's Wine' signs looked so good spaced around the ground. My dodgy old heart does swell. It’s been quite amazing to me to have been able to sponsor English cricket. We were just there at the right time and got asked and given a terrific deal. I don't suppose we'll be able to continue; we're not a big corporation, are we.

But am sure we'll hang on to our new cricketer friends. Like David. Maybe I'll get a word in, next tasting.

Anyway, turn away from the window and write some serious words. The wife's toiling in her vineyard – the vines are rocketing up in this weather – and if I don't cough up my word quota I'll be up there weeding again.