Page 126 of You Float My Boat

The women’s crews went first: Osiris followed by Blue Boat. While Osiris won by a photo finish, Blue unfortunately was nearly a full length behind.

Isis, the men’s reserve boat, fared a little better. Winning by a healthy enough margin that it spurred the crowds on to cheer even louder than normal.

By the time the men’s Blue Boat was set to get under way, sufficient amounts of beer had been drunk by the spectators that everyone was gearing up for a showdown. Rowdy chants were now providing the backing track for the day, and you could say what you wanted about Oxford, but there was nothing like it when the supporters were out in full force.

The sound of an airhorn ripped through the air, signalling the beginning of the race.

‘OXFORD! OXFORD! OXFORD! OXFORD!’ came the chants down the banks again.

‘Where are they? I can’t see,’ croaked Stella, whose voice had almost given up from all the shouting.

Squinting up the river, I could just make out the ripple of water where the two shells cut through, followed by the judges’ motorboat. This was the problemwith rowing – you were either at the beginning, middle or end. You only truly got to relish in the excitement of the race up close, once the section next to you had passed on the baton of cheering.

‘They’re there, you’ll see them in a minute.’

‘Who’s winning?’

‘I can’t tell.’

I squinted again. It looked neck and neck, but it wasn’t. The closer they got, the more obvious it was that Bath was in the lead by half a length.

‘Shit,’ screeched Stella, pointing to the shells, just in case anyone didn’t know where they were. ‘They’re losing. Come on, Charlie! Pull your finger out!’

‘Come on, Charlie,’ I screamed next to her as they neared. ‘Come on, Hugo.’

‘DARK BLUES! DARK BLUES! DARK BLUES!’ sounded out another wave of chants.

‘CHARLIE! MOVE! OXFORD! MOVE!’ Stella screamed louder. ‘COME ON! MOVE!’

There’s no way any of the boys in the boat could have heard us. But fifty yards out it was like they hit a second wind of energy because out of nowhere Oxford picked up speed. Even from this distance I could see Oz powering through each stroke, setting a punishing rhythm.

Eight oars sliced through the water.

I could see the red face of my brother in six seat, rowing like his life depended on it. They all were. But my eyes barely flickered over the other boys before focusing back on Charlie, in seven. Even behind the sunglasses I could tell he was putting every last drop of strength he had into moving past Bath. His jaw poppedwith each formidable stroke, biceps and triceps pistoning and so in sync with Oz’s that you’d think they were attached by an invisible string.

I winced as Stella grabbed my arm so hard I swear she’d drawn blood. ‘Shit. They’re moving.’

I couldn’t breathe, even if I’d wanted to. Air stuck in my lungs, and by the time the two boats passed us they were neck and neck. One final gruelling pull on the oars, and Blue Boat slipped over the finish line first.

The sound was deafening. Almost as deafening as when Oxford won the Boat Race, and if they repeated today’s performance in two weeks’ time, you’d hear the chanting from the northern tip of Scotland.

Stella was still jumping up and down. ‘That was amazing!’ she screamed.

‘I know!’ I screamed back, because neither of us seemed to be able to stop, as we clasped onto each other, until it became clear I really needed to pee. ‘Come on, let’s get out of here. I need the loo, then we can go and find the boys.’

Holding out my hand, she grabbed it. The pair of us wove through the crowds thick with Oxford students. Several times we narrowly dodged a group of boys armed with several pints of beer each. Too many for them to safely hold without the risk of one being knocked, as the girl in front of us discovered. But she looked too drunk to care. We also dodged flying empty pint glasses, several Oxford University paper flags which had been waved around during the race, along with a couple of scarfs and one hat.

‘This is the problem with nice days, we can’t controlourselves,’ grumbled Stella as a rugby ball flew past her face, only to be caught by a guy on the other side of the crowds. ‘I mean, why do they need to be playing with a ball here? There’s a perfectly good field nearby.’

‘You tell ’em, Stella,’ I laughed. ‘Hey, shall we go to the bar on the way? The boys will need to get back to the club house anyway, we can meet them there.’

‘Yeah, good shout. Is there anywhere along the way that won’t be rammed?’

I shook my head. ‘Nope.’

‘Wishful thinking. Let’s just go to the last pub before we get there, then there’s less chance of us spilling, and more opportunity to drink.’

I slung my arm over her shoulder as we finally made it through the first throng of people, ‘I knew I was friends with you for a reason.’

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