Town Mouse

As my distant cousin the Water Rat once declared to a certain shy and retiring mole in the early part of the last century, ‘Believe me, my young friend, there is nothing – absolutely nothing – half so much worth doing as simply messing about in boats.’

Before lockdown began, I visited the River Thames only rarely, despite living only a mile from Hammersmith Bridge. Early evenings were for book launches and the like, weekends were for parental visits, and holidays were for getting up at three in the morning to stand in the absolutely hideous and soul-sapping Stansted Airport for two and half hours before squeezing on to an undignified easyjet flight to Italy.

When lockdown began, whole chunks of glorious time for doing nothing in particular opened up and, like many others, my Town Mice family dusted down our bicycles and headed out into the city.

At first we pedalled into town and marvelled at the beauty of the Mall and Trafalgar Square when freed from traffic. Then we discovered the river and, once or twice a week, cycled along the towpath to Putney in one direction or fair Richmond in the other.

I noticed that the river looked pretty quiet, apart from the herons, moorhens, Canada geese, mallards, grebes and cormorants, all of whom seemed untroubled by the problems of the world.

Then, a few weeks ago, some friends, Mr and Mrs Vole, asked if we’d like to join them for a jaunt on a little rowing boat – equipped with outboard motor – they have a share in. We cast off at the lovely Georgian terrace of Strand-on-the-Green under a warm sun and chugged up the river past a small island covered in willow trees. We had cider and beer with us, as well as some proper French bread, runny cheese and artisanal crisps.

We were just congratulating ourselves on our good sense and good fortune in choosing to go out for an early-evening picnic on such a lovely day when it started pouring down with rain. Mr Vole, who works in marine insurance, cleverly manoeuvred the little craft under the willows, where we drank our beer and ate our bread, partially protected from the rain.

The downpour did not dampen our spirits. The Water Rat is perfectly right: messing about in boats is so worth doing that minor setbacks like rain won’t stop the fun. The rain ceased, the sun re-emerged and we took off again, buzzing down the Thames past various charming pubs which, despite having lived in London off and on for 50 years, I’d never seen before. We went past the Bull’s Head, the City Barge, the Bell & Crown and the London Apprentice, and I made a resolution to spend long afternoons at these establishments once the little mice have all left home. They demand an awful lot of input at their late teenage stage.

Inspired by our riverside jaunt with the Voles, Mrs Mouse forked out on an inflatable canoe, which we took for a test paddle on a quiet stretch of the Thames near Oxford – Lewis Carroll Country.

We found it almost impossible to keep the thing in a straight line. I blamed our wobbly progress on Mrs Mouse’s inexperience with oars, but later discovered that we’d forgotten to install an important plastic fin on the underside of the vessel. The fin, I understand, keeps the craft more or less steady.

Despite our steering problems, we had a lovely time. While we did not spot a white rabbit with a pocket watch, we did see a pure white baby heron nestling in the reeds. There were plenty of other kayaks, canoes, pleasure boats and narrowboats, all chugging along at a snail’s pace, some with a glass of wine on deck, cheerily waving to one another. So unlike the motorway.

Being on boats combines doing very little with just enough activity to remove any guilt you might be feeling about doing nothing. There is just enough action to act as a condiment to the main purpose of the exercise, which is simple dolce far niente. I was reminded of being supremely happy on a ‘three men in a boat’ trip with two friends a few years ago. We hired a three-man boat in Oxford and spent the next few days rowing down the river and camping on the side, sleeping in the boat or retreating to a B&B. Bliss.

It’s all part of a glorious river renaissance. River taxis are coming back and even transport company Uber has taken an interest in the business, indicating there are vast profits to be made. Uber are rebranding an existing fleet of 20 Thames Clipper boats. Clearly, travelling to work, if your job still exists, via boat is a far more attractive – and probably safer – option than squeezing yourself on to the Central Line.

Here’s hoping we’ll see a much busier Thames, crammed with boats as it was in former days, as the slowed-down joys and practical benefits of water transport become obvious in a brave new – or should I say, old? – post-virus world.

‘Clearly, travelling to work – if your job still exists – by boat is far more attractive’