Ah, I was in sunny Eton Dorney today, watching our ladies win gold. What an honour for me to be right there as they crossed the finish line, punching the air victoriously (me, not them) and screaming (again, me) with a full glass of champagne.
We took the shuttle from Windsor at 09.20 am and followed the marked white pathways down to the turnstiles. Hundreds of commuters were filtering into the stands, and by golly, the English weather played hooky as the sun filtered through fluffy white clouds. There was a considerable wait to go through security, but it didn’t matter.
I swung the hand of my date for the day – Jonny back and forth and admired how we looked together as a couple. Jonny was resplendent in his True Religion jeans and Ralph Lauren shirt after a shopping trip to Bond Street at the weekend. He looked like the preppy Eton boy with floppy hair and a plummy accent. And he knows Prince Harry.
Jonny explained that his parents were still living in Datchet (a nearby village with huge houses!), yet he had moved into Kensington after graduation from Cambridge. Going to Eton hadn’t necessarily meant he would get into Oxbridge, but getting the best education made it possible to get in on merit. We discussed Polo, his horses, the clubbing scene in London – where we had met – and the fine restaurants we had visited at home and abroad. When Jonny realised I was trtravlinternationlly, his face lit up, and he squeezed my hand and promised me a spin on his Dad’s yacht in Monaco soon.
Well, as you all know, we won the race, and I spent the glorious rest of my day with other preppy Eton types in a rather stunning pub in Windsor. The fact we were later accompanied by toned, carved Australian athletes made my day the best I’ve had in a long while!