Three Men in a Boat

The Ferry, Babcock Hythe

Set off from Grafton lock with Chris' bites from a red ant still surprisingly painful. Loads of scary twisty bits where we crashed into the bank and arrived at The Trout at Tadpole Bridge; a longstanding object of desire for Gary. Spoke to some canoeing people from South Africa. Big sign on the door that said no poofs or lawyers allowed in the pub, but Chris sneaked in anyway.
Bloke at the lock underestimated our manly potential and said we'd be stopping at Newbridge - tiny fool.
While stopping for a breather Gary jumped in the river in a streak of flesh and white underpants. Some minutes later he emerged back over the side of the boat as a drowned rat arrangement with an enormous packet.
Searching for the perfect tan, Gary rowed sporting naught but a bijou sockette; river suddenly full of sullen fishermen.
Sped through Newbridge; the setting sun burnishing the trees rose gold and the sky bruised purple. Called the Ferry to order pies in advance as we wouldn't get there before they stopped serving. With Chris and Gary pushing manfully for the pies we covered the last three miles sporting a massive bow wave.
Consumed pies, about to row further down to find a leafy glade to kip in.