I'm off!

There hasn’t been an update for a couple of weeks, mainly because not much has been happening.

I moved back down to Thrupp. I like it there, nice spot, friendly people and each afternoon I can chill out in the cafe, there is always somebody to talk to. Having stayed there for the maximum 7 days, I set off north, cruising for half an hour before I decided enough was enough and moored up for a few days at Shipton on Cherwell. It’s a tough life. The advantage of a short cruise is its only a few minutes walk back to the cafe and Boat Inn. Friday evening I joined the local boating community at the pub including Maffi, Bones,

Chris Wren and his wife. Maffi and Bones were the first boating people I spoke to after I decided to buy a boat, Bones being a regular columnist in the Canal Boat magazine. I’ve been following Chris and his wife, who live on Wren’s Nest, up and down the Oxford canal for the last couple of months.

Even a short move is enough to change the surroundings. Here I’m surrounded by trees, in shade the whole day, giving a dappled light throughout the boat, making the entire atmosphere of the boat change. However, it does nothing for the solar powered radio I have recently bought.

Whilst moored and minding my own business I received a healthy whack in the side from

another boat. On going outside the hired boat was trying to moor in the space behind, so how he managed to hit me in the side and have his stern in the bushes on the opposite bank I don’t know. I stood there waiting for an apology. He never looked at me, perhaps if he ignored me for long enough he could claim it never happened, or may be it was his normal mooring procedure. His wife came to the bow, she ignored me too, then seeing I wasn’t happy said, “Sorry, that was a bit close.”

“No! It wasn’t close, you hit me. Hard!”

A couple of days later I opened the lift bridge to save a guy from dropping off crew. He ignored me too. His wife stuck her head out, said, “Thanks,” and disappeared again. What is wrong with people? Men normally stay at the tiller while the women operate locks, bridges etc. Those I speak to at locks claim they like the social side. Is this the real reason men stay on the boat, they have no communication skills. Okay, rant over, so it’s only the minority, most men are sociable.

The idea of boating was to move around the system, so I have been increasing frustrated at being stuck for so long in an area I already know well, mainly due to the ever problematic house sale. I’ve had enough, I want to be on the move, so this week I am off. Hopefully I will have more to report on soon.

Back at the house the plaster has been stripped off the wall in the lounge, a drier has been in for a week and should be removed tomorrow. Once its gone, I’m off! My estate agent and solicitor are charging a small fortune for doing absolutely nothing, I suspect they are all the same, so if I wait around nothing will happen, when I am more than a days bike ride away they will be desperate for me to come in and sign something.

Thrupp has around 29 houses in the village, Shipton about 60. In the cafe I was warned of the risks of mooring in such a large urban conurbation.

“So you’ve moved down to Shipton have you?” asked Martin. “Got anything off your roof?”

“No.”

“Good,” said Maffi, “coz they’ll nick it. When I was moored there I heard some

body on the roof during the night trying to steal my bike, so I chased them off. They came back and tried again half an hour later.”

“They don’t bother me,” added Martin, “the main problem maker doesn’t like dogs and I told ‘im I would let me dog off the lead if I ever see him near my house.”

“I was moored in Oxford once and somebody stole a clip holding my lamp on the back.”

“That’ll be the Shipton lot,” said Martin.

Now here’s a tip for those living on a canal. After a very hot day, if you have a light on in the evening, don’t leave the nearest window open. I did exactly that last night and had hundreds of bugs buzzing around the light, enough to make me duck down when passing. Orrible.