Wednesday, 2 September 2015

People

02.09.15

We meant to leave the Oxford canal mooring around mid morning but ended up talking to new neighbours who had arrived whilst we had been shopping. Tracey and Frank and their dog, Patsy Kline (?!) were jolly people and we shared information about various moorings and boaty things including the inevitable (it seems) discussion about toilets, pump-out versus cassette, and how to keep them fresh-smelling without damaging mascerators and plastic pipes. White vinegar apparently?! An hour later we set off only to be held back by a 50' boat attempting to wind in the so-signed 52' winding hole just before Isis Lock. Pete suggested they go through the lock and turn in the basin below which is just what we had done once when we realised the 52' sign was decidedly optimistic. You can't do it - the boat runs aground and gets stuck in the bushes opposite. It's a wonder there isn't a boat permanently stuck widthways there. There are signs forbidding turning in the basin which is the u-turn for the channel to the Thames, but you have no option. Pete helped them lock through and back and then we were on our way again. Needless to say as time was pressing on, we decided to stop short of Osney Lock on East Street's moorings by the pleasant Punter pub (any excuse to frequent a good pub). We had travelled the grand distance of 1 and a quarter miles! It was raining and cold so another reason for not continuing and we lit the fire.

Next morning we set off, buying our month's licence for the Thames at Osney (£146 now, phew.) We locked through with a couple of nice chaps who had come down from Lechlade and trundled on to Abingdon in some sun at last. Coming out of Sandford Lock, the smiley gentleman on NB Sally Slapcabbage (what a great name!) called cheerily "what a nice day! The second one we've had this year! " which made us laugh and feels pretty much true.

Further along a man was fishing off the back of his anchored boat with the daftest dog by his side, tail wagging madly, looking eagerly into the water as if to say "there's one". And every time the man flicked his line the dog jumped to catch the end. That game could end very messily.

It is customary to smile, wave, acknowledge other boats and we always do, however today I did so to a narrowboat passing on this very wide Thames and was upset by the skipper's po-face back at me. A face like a slapped bottom. His wife managed a weak smile. Trouble with this is, no matter how confident a boater you are, you spend the next few miles wondering what on earth you did wrong, analysing your boating etiquette to the last detail. I'm happy to say, I can't think of anything in this instance and my loyal Pete can't either - perhaps he was just having a bad day, but I wish he hadn't taken it out on me - he even looked back over his shoulder scornfully. Oh well.




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