One foggy morning.....

With a little help from its friends the engineless boat is on the move again. It was returned to Fotheringhay were it reclined on the riverbank for a few weeks and then it was sold.

The new owner looked over the boat, sat on the riverbank beside it and absorbed its aura, gazed towards the heavens and received signs that this was the boat for her and arrived the next day accompanied by her mother and a bag full of twenty pound notes and bought it. ‘It was meant to be’ ‘God had sent them to this boat’.  I thought that I’d rather trust a good boat surveyor than the word of God but I’m just an old cynic so what do I know. And at least the word of God is free, boat surveys can be expensive.

The Haulage Contractor was away on the canals so the first reserve took over and brought the boat from Fotheringhay to Oundle.  Breasted up he managed it single-handed to Oundle (what a clever chap)and then I was volunteered to help from Oundle to Ringstead. The new owner and her mother, a couple of fruitcakes from Dundee, were traveling with us.  The early start on a foggy morning was delayed while tobacco was sprinkled on the bows of the two boats to ensure a trouble free journey.  The new owner felt that the she had a connection with the previous owner, she loved everything he had done to the boat, there was synchronicity, the vibes from him permeated the boat, she loved it.  She wasn’t so keen on the smell from his bodily fluids that also permeated the boat so we were delayed further while it had a pump-out.

The fog was still thick as we headed towards Lilford although the faint yellow ball of sun was appearing in the sky.  Cobwebs hung thickly on the branches of the trees. We didn’t expect to meet anybody that early on a foggy morning but there was a cruiser in Lilford lock, with two boats breasted up we couldn’t wait on the lock landing because it would have blocked his exit so we hovered mid-stream, the flow from the weir pushing us gently towards the right bank.  The cruiser came out of the lock, there was plenty of room to pass on the left-hand side but as a law abiding boater he wanted to pass on the right, squeezing through reeds and bushes he shouted at us ‘You haven’t left me much room’.  The new owner gave him a beautific smile spread her arms wide and said ‘I hope you have a lovely day’.  She should have sprinkled a bit of tobacco on his bows to improve his chances of a good journey.

The sun glimmered through the mist and it was breakfast time.  The ladies had said they would do the food for the journey.  Our driver was looking forward to that boating essential, a bacon butty.  He got crisps, peas in the pod and a cup of tea.  Breasted up we squeezed through the narrow bridge before Titchmarsh with an inch to spare on either side and after Islip lock we put the second boat behind to get through the awkward bridge at Thrapston.  I was on the engineless boat and surprised to find that I had some steerage.  We went through Thrapston Bridge without any difficulty, the sun came out, the beer came out, the ladies lit their cigarettes. It was getting hot I borrowed a sun hat a large floppy red and white hat to which I could have got attached.  

The new owners were delighted with their boat, delighted with the meandering river and delightful to be with.  Lunch was served: egg and cheese salad (sorry forgot the mayonnaise) by now our driver was having hallucinations about bacon so they left a pack of cakes with him. A lock further on the females on the following boat decided we wanted cake so the cakes were retrieved and he had to make do with a bit of salad and some more peas in the pod.  He drowned the thoughts of bacon with another can of beer. We were having a lovely time the sprinkled tobacco was obviously working, I’ll have to try it although I think I’ll have get hold of special tobacco.

We left them at Ringstead, waving fond farewells, promising to keep in touch.  Mother was grinning madly, the remnants of peas still stuck between her teeth. Going back downriver without the drag of another boat it felt as if we were white water rafting.

Two days later at a party in the clubhouse there was a lot of mutterings about people passing old twenty pound notes and much speculation about where they had come from. Those of us who knew exactly where they had come from kept quiet