Back in the town, it was hot. We walked to the town centre, in the heat, to go punting in the water and, perhaps, swim.
We passed this place, which seems to have done the thing savvy children do when selling lemonade on the street, trying to make a booze shop sign cute and drunk.
Here is a balloon in a balloon.
If only, and they've got no chance in this old money conservative stronghold.
The heat wave is genuine, albeit subtler than that in our home country.
Even the bucolic college lawns are burnt brown. What's missing is the bore water stains on the limestone.
Ye Olde Battersea Power Station, if Pink Floyd came from Oxford.
A pretty lam post.
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