A punter leans into the pole and slides out from beneath a low stone arch, the underside of it glowing warm where light bounces up off the water. Willow drops into the left of the frame and the meadow runs flat and green past the bridge. Same stroke, same reach, probably for centuries.Three wooden oars lean against the plank wall of a boathouse, blades down, handles hooked over a rail above them. A window throws its grid across the boards in hard grey bars and the floor beneath is still dark with water. Put back wet, which is the only way they ever get put back.