Oxford: rowers and recidivism

Oxford was awash with spring sunshine today. Christchurch meadows was a carpet of fresh green with snowdrops in patches by the waterside. In the background, the dreaming spires formed the skyline; in the foreground were walkers, runners, even picknickers. Then we got to the river and found it covered with racing eights.

Could be a scene from a Hollywood film

Straight out of the story books. So exactly right it was almost as though someone wanted to see how far they could push a stereotype before it turned into a cliché.

All very pleasant though. The only jarring note of the day was the bad news that my old friend Bill had managed to get into trouble with the authorities again.

That poor Bill: will he never learn?

I keep telling him to mend his ways, but he seems to be the man for whom the word ‘recidivism’ was invented. Everywhere I go I see notices announcing that he’s in court again.

Disappointing to find one in Oxford though, on such a perfect day.

P.S. I  know it's an old joke. But with jokes it's like wine: the best just get better with age.