Charlie says "NO!" to anything less than Harrods

Every year, my sister and her friends trot off to a rowing competition on the banks of the River Thames in Buckinghamshire. It's an age old tradition, fraught with dress codes, etiquette and, err, cravats. Only yesterday a student was turned away from the members only Stewards' Enclosure because her knee length dress was too short. This Saturday there are 15 girls going, including me and some friends. The event is called 'Henley Regatta'.

But, in the interests of this blog, I would like to call it "Pimms O'Clock"

or

"Bag 'a' Rower"

or

"Let's get smashed in a marquee while wearing a nice dress"

Sorry, ignore that. It's all very serious. Sporting. Yah, yah.

The question of what to wear has been a hot topic, with one member of our party bringing two dresses (one of a suitable length for the Stewards' Enclosure, plus one for our marquee) and another asking if it would be appropriate to wear a distractor. "A distractor?" we replied, as emails flew back and forth between the girls. "Yeah, you know, those things you wear on the side of your head. With bits sticking up." Dawns broke and pennies dropped all over London. "Oh, darling, does one mean a Fascinator?". I was jolly glad she made that faux par before we entered the enclosure. What would the hoi polloi think?

Next for us was the issue of tents. Not for us the hassle of taxis home and faffing with hotels. No, no. Give us a good old tent in a field to retire to after our day and night of Pimms enduced revelry. "I was just going to get one of those ones you chuck in the air" I volunteered, knowing that my tent building skills after a day of drinking would probably end in me using it as an open air sleeping bag. My sister duly ventured onto Argos Direct, ordered a tent and arranged for it to be delivered yesterday as she had the day off work.

Later - with no sign of the tent - it transpired that earlier in the day, someone had indeed arrived at the house clutching a box and the firm instructions that "If no one is in, just go down the left hand side of the house and leave it behind the gate". According to my mum, someone rang the bell but there was no one there when she opened the door. Charlie Dog then rushed out and...err...said "No!" to Argos man, who was ferretting about down the right hand side of the house, looking for the left-hand side gate. So Charlie Said NO again. Loudly. And continued to say "NO!" even more when faced with a man flapping a cardboard box in his face. The man then raced back to his van and retreated hastily without a word, leaving my mum at the door slightly baffled, and Charlie muttering "Bloody canvassers" as he ambled back into the house.

A phone call to Argos later revealed that the man had stated "Customer refused delivery" as the reason for not delivering the tent.

The woman on the helpline, on hearing the full story, then entered a follow up message:

"No - delivery man ignored instructions, took one look at barking labrador and sprinted back to van before driving off"

Usually Charlie reserves this level of fury for Jehovas Witnesses and double glazing salesmen. I'm glad he's joining in the Regatta spirit and raising his standards to include Argos, more commonly known as the home of Elizabeth Duke sovereign rings and gold "BEST MUM EVA" pendants.

Tents, distractors, appropriate length dresses and multiple bottles of Pimms are now sorted, but I think I'll leave the dog at home.