Downstream

rain stops, a rainbow appears
in the sky over Thames Street
and the pavements shimmer.
‘It’s not a competition,’
advises Clive the local cab
man as he drives me to
Kelmscott and I tell him
about my swim; ‘go with the
flow, get your stroke right
and get the right rhythm and
you’ll be fine.’ I arrive at the
seventeenth-century Plough
Inn where I’m staying for two
nights. A man at the bar says