It was a beautiful summer’s day in London. The sun was shining, the cider was flowing, the water in Regent’s Park lake was glistening. Birds were singing, people were dancing. Literally, people were dancing for some salsa session under a beautiful marque. Am I setting the scene well enough yet? Basically, imagine a perfect post-exam day in the south of France (not England.) With lots of colourful flowers everywhere. To top things off, I was hangover free on this spectacular Saturday afternoon! A group of us strolled down the grass to sit by the riverbank, as you would when you’re on pretend holiday in the south of France. As we relaxed in the hazy heavenly warmth, a pedalo in the distance caught my (mildly intoxicated) eyes. To my surprise, it came closer and closer towards us and the steep river bank, clearly not intended for docking purposes. ‘We’re trying to get people on our boat and no one has done it!’ exclaimed one of the men dressed as a sailor. The two sailors had fancy glass champagne glasses in their hands, a champagne bottle and two empty seats behind them. Without missing a beat my sister’s boyfriend jumped up and leapt onboard. For a few seconds, time stood still. My heart leapt. ‘I will regret not getting on this boat for the rest of my life,’ I thought to myself, with more profoundness than I’d ever experienced at any other point in my 21 years. Just when you’d think I’d used up my wisdom-ration for the year, I even passed my phone to my friend. I stood up. I stepped forward. I fell.
So there I am, on this beautiful summer’s day, in Regents Park lake past my waist, scrambling onto the back of the boat which had moved about a metre whilst I had been… faffing, frankly. The many, many people on the grass looked on. I managed to get onto the boat, minus a shoe. You would think that this is a story I look back on and cringe with embarrassment… but you would be wrong. Very, very wrong. In fact, I think it might have been one of the best days of my entire life. Not only did the sun dry the clean, clear water from my clothes and ends of my hair (just kidding – the water was gross but I made it out infection free,) but the sailors pulled out two more glasses out of their rucksack and kept refilling them with champagne as if I was an elegant queen, not some shameless student alcoholic that had just fallen into a lake to try and get free alcohol. We had a wonderful half an hour or so, swapping seats to help peddle, knocking into young teens on romantic dates, laughing, drinking, baking in the gentle heat…
When it came to the end of our fairytale adventure, we returned to our starting place… The Place Where I Fell Into The Lake. My sister’s boyfriend hopped off and I followed. The two sailors decided to also hop off and abandon their boat, as cool free spirits that get dressed up as sailors and get a pedalo with champagne and glasses and strangers would do. As one of them stepped off the boat and onto the bank, the boat moved backwards slightly and… SPLASH. The lucky audience got to witness our second fall into the lake. He was sort of hanging onto the bank with his arms, with his legs on the boat, with his torso forming a bridge over the water. At this point, I really should have asked him to find my shoe. We had a good laugh and a group photo so we could all document that day. Not that I’ll ever forget! 10/10 – would do again. Also, walking home with no shoes on in London was surprisingly absolutely fine. Only a few funny looks from small children…
The Musings of an Unamused, Semi-Hopeful Law Student 