Henley-on-Thames

: The Grand Account :

Henley Royal Regatta is England distilled: five days in early July when a straight mile and 550 yards of the Thames becomes the most elegant stretch of water in the world. Founded in 1839 and royal since Prince Albert lent his patronage, the Regatta has changed its dress code rather less than its rowing. In the Stewards' Enclosure, blazers carry the colours of clubs and colleges, hemlines are still measured, and mobile telephones are gently discouraged. The racing itself is ferocious, two crews, side by side, no second chances, yet the riverbank maintains a studied calm. It is sport as society, conducted with a courtesy that has outlasted empires.

The drive from London is part of the pleasure: out along the M4, leaving at Maidenhead for the A404 and the slow descent into the Thames Valley, an hour and a quarter of increasingly green England. For a party of four in regatta dress, the V-Class VIP Senzati is quietly ideal, with room for hats, hampers and conversation; couples tend toward the Rolls-Royce Cullinan, which treats the riverside lanes with serene disdain. Your chauffeur arrives with enclosure badges confirmed, the day's race card printed, and the umbrellas Henley invariably requires. He positions the car off Remenham Lane for the evening, so that leaving is as graceful as arriving.

Arrive by half past ten, before the towpath fills. The morning is for early heats and a slow walk through the Stewards' Enclosure; luncheon is taken at Leander Club, if your host enjoys the privilege, or in the Fawley Meadows gardens beside the course. The racing sharpens after two o'clock, the finishes best watched from the grandstand by the Progress Board. As the last race ends, cross into town for an early dinner at the Relais Henley on Hart Street: once the Red Lion, where the river view earns its keep. The first Saturday is for spectacle; the Friday, for connoisseurs. Stay for the long golden light over Temple Island, then go.