Mornings in Bodley, drowsing among the
worn browns and tarnished gilding of Duke Humphrey, snuffing the faint, musty odor of slowly perishing leather...; long
afternoons, taking an outrigger up the Cher, feeling the rough kiss of the sculls
on unaccustomed palms, listening to the rhythmical and satisfying kerklunk of the rowlocks, watching the play of muscles
on the Bursar's sturdy shoulders at stroke, as the sharp spring wind flattened the thin silk shirt against them; or, if the day were
warmer, flicking swiftly in a canoe under Magdalen walls and so by the twisting race at King's Mill by Mesopotamia to Parson's Pleasure; then back, with mind relaxed and body stretched and vigorous, to make toast by the fire.
I'd pinned three outfits that paired camel colored leather skirts with black sweaters (this one, this one and this one) and decided to merge all of them together into this outfit that I
wore on a day that started out cool and got a bit
warmer in the
afternoon.
I wound up only
wearing the shorts to throw
on over my swimsuit in the Serengeti (the one place it was
warm enough to get in the pool in the
afternoon) so next time I'd only pack one pair instead of two.