Where are the keys?

At Fotheringhay there’s three blokes two boats and no keys.  I get a call in the morning to say they’re supposed to be bringing an engineless boat back and have forgotten to take the keys with them and could I bring them over.

I take the keys, there’s the Mechanical Magician, the Haulage Contractor and the Cabin Boy getting the boat ready to bring over to Oundle and then next week to take it up to Fox’s Marina at March. Anybody knowing the geography of The Nene will ask the same question as I asked. Why bring it to Oundle and then take it back to March? There is a logical explanation but I can’t remember what it was.

Fotheringhay looks lovely in the hazy sunshine and there is the smell of spring in the air. I am tempted to travel back on the boats with them because the journey from Fotheringhay to Oundle is delightful but there is a chill wind so I decide I have some paperwork to do.  The farmer, whose field the boat is moored against, materialises. There’re a few explanations about why the boat is being moved but he’s not concerned that we’re here to steal it, it’s just that he just noticed a strange car and boat so he had come to collect the mooring and parking fees.

Back on my boat I spend about an hour looking for my boat safety certificate and another hour getting through to the Inland Revenue to pay the tax they have deemed I have underpaid.  I have got a 'Pay up or else!' notice. My £68.60 going into The Government coffers will have helped the countries balance of payments no end.

I walk back into Oundle to post the letters and catch up with the two boats as they are progressing through Lower Barnwell lock.  The Haulage Contractor is complaining that that lot behind are slowing him down.  That lot behind are enjoying travelling on a silent boat.  I expect to be entertained watching them get the two boats into the lock but the first one goes in and the engineless boat glides in beside it, neither touching the lock walls or the leading boat. Spoil sports. They tell me that they’ve done it as perfectly as that through all the locks although something about their suppressed grins makes me suspect that they are telling porkies.