Personal

Woodbridge Regatta

"We have two special guests for the rowing race," said the voice over the tannoy. Who could they be? Surely not celebrities; Brian Eno lives here, but that'd be asking too much. It seemed equally unlikely that the Regatta Committee would fork out even for D-list celebs. Maybe the town Mayor, or the M.P.

All such guesses were way off the mark. The guests - "guest passengers", one per boat - were vicars of two of the town's churches: St Mary's and St Thomas'. The teams from the rowing club took their passengers up river, then raced back to the start. "Congratulations to St Mary's;" I heard later, "hard luck to Father Raphael - you'll have to come back next year."

This is Woodbridge Regatta. People have ridiculed it before - it's hardly the toffs-quaffing-wine of other regattas. But its ours. Not so much a tourist attraction as a day when the whole town comes together to celebrate the river. A local event, for local people.

So we had piggy baps, the greasy pole, karaoke in the sailing club, a duck dive and a crabbing competition. All backed by the Woodbridge Excelsior Band.

When I moved here I was adamant I'd not settle in. But walking round the riverside this afternoon, I met a dozen or so people I know well: neighbours old and new, local B&B owners, last year's mayor. Like it or not, I've become a local. I even signed up for the riverside action group.

And as I left the losing rowers were being presented with wooden spoons dressed as vicars.

I live here and I love it.