Uptown Girl – the Vesta Vets’ Head

Time was that Girl on the River was quite the Girl about Town. More than a decade of living and working in our fair capital city meant that I knew the tube map like the back of my hand and could scowl at strangers with the best of them.

11 years have passed since I officially became a country bumpkin, though, and as the years have flown by I have lost my urban edge. When I visit the city I make rookie errors like making eye contact without just cause. I have even been known to indulge in alarming behavior like smiling and saying hello to people. As you can imagine, then, a trip to the Smoke is full of excitement, danger and glamour.

And so it was with the Vets’ Head, which was additionally thrilling as it was my First Time. I was one of four Tideway Virgins (and novices) in my crew, and with various injuries over the last few months it had been touch and go whether I’d be able to row at all. To say I was excited is a massive understatement.

It didn’t disappoint. Of course it helped that we were blessed with Mediterranean weather – not the norm for this event. Last year the Head was cancelled because it was just too cold to be safe, and only the day before, the Head of the River Race had been called off half way through because the crews were being tossed about on the water as though they were on the high seas (some were even sinking).

As for the race itself, I can’t remember much about it. The first half passed in a haze of excitement. I vaguely remember the metallic green of Hammersmith Bridge, and I do recall passing one crew (gasp) and being passed by another (sob). All I recall of the second half is that it was long and hard. I wasn’t aware of landmarks or other crews or anything other than the need to keep taking stroke after stroke, to keep the pressure on, to keep the pace going.

And then it was over and I’d actually done it. So our performance was slightly disappointing (we’d hoped to place in the top 10 in our category and only made 15th) and the results, we’re told, were skewed by a strong flood tide, which meant that the later you set off, the greater your advantage. But, whatever. The photos show that with just a km to go we were still looking pretty tidy, and we all survived in one piece (kind of - everything aches today). I had an absolute blast with the fabulous ladies of the Monmouth women’s squad. And for the first time ever Monmouth fielded two women’s eights – not bad for a small, provincial club – so in our own, modest way we made club history.

I’d say that was something to write home about.