“Stop the world, I want to get off... or do I?”
The ever popular musings of a narrowboat horse on the Montgomery Canal
EVERY cloud has a silver lining, so the cancellation of such events as the Eurovision Song Contest, Glastonbury Music Festival and the Montgomery Triathlon all have their advantages. No inane songs, arthritic pop groups and annoying joggers, cyclists and canoeists can only enhance the peace and tranquillity of our daily well-being!
Whether you believe that the latest pestilence to be inflicted on our world is caused by people eating bushmeat, chemical weapons or just sent from above, is dependent on your personal conspiracy theories and beliefs, on such subjects as culinary diets, warfare and divine intervention. Whatever the cause, the cure or the eventual eradication is immaterial and pales into insignificance compared to the effects of its presence in our everyday lives.
In the confines of this month’s chat I don’t intend to impinge on the political, medical or financial aspects of this iniquitous virus, as there are ample so-called experts more able (apparently) than I, so to do.
Instead I will try to put a smile on everyone’s lips by relating and repeating some of the more light-hearted anecdotes that have surfaced over the intervening period. Some are merely updated versions of old chestnuts while others appear to have vestiges of original thought.
One of the first to tickle my ribs is the story of a man who, after several days of cancelled televised sport, discovers the little lady sitting next to him on the sofa is actually his wife. He commented: “She seems quite nice!” A similar punchline in the same vein states that the man, on talking to the woman, discovers that she’d been made redundant from Woolworths.
My mate, to keep in touch with his 91-year-old mum who is on lockdown, bought her a large-screen iPad so that they could video-call each other. Not having heard from her, he phoned to ask how she was getting on with her new tablet. “Oh, it’s great,” she said, “one of the best chopping boards I’ve ever had!”
Life-size model
Enough, I hear you cry, so here’s a nice little story about me. As you know, when Saturn, the last surviving Shroppie fly boat, visits the Monty, I tow her down from Frankton Locks to Maesbury. However, when she’s elsewhere on the canal system, she’s generally pulled by a powered boat. Consequently, when moored up and on display, people can only imagine what she looks like with me on the towpath. Not any more, because I’m now available in flatpack! Thanks to John and Sue Yates, who came to measure me at my winter quarters, I’m now available as a threedimensional, life-size model.
Easily transportable and requiring no upkeep, I can be assembled in minutes and stationed in pride of place at the fore end of Saturn. Who knows, I may even be available at that Swedish furniture store!
Returning to my topical theme and on the subject of panic buying, I see that a well-known German supermarket is restricting customers to just three items of essential products. My mate’s wife went to buy bread, milk and potatoes and came home with a wetsuit, an air-compressor and a set of Allen keys. Bless!
To end on a serious note, my team and I were poised like coiled springs to spring into action in the spring!
Before lockdown
The following paragraph was written before the latest, more stringent lockdown instructions, but I’ve left it unchanged, just to show you what we had been intending to do: However, we have to be sensible, listen to well-meant but sometimes questionable advice and react accordingly. So, bearing in mind that I don’t need to self-isolate, wear a mask or wash my hands, and if you are cabin crazy and in dire need of fresh air and diversion, then get in touch. We only take up to 12 passengers, provide hand-gel on entering the boat and take great pleasure in taking people out on our unique horse-drawn, narrowboat canal trips. Just remember, under 70s must bring ID to prove that they are not in the legally, confined group of over-age individuals!
Unfortunately we are, of course, on ‘lockdown’ until further notice as a precaution to help protect the more vulnerable members of society. Stay safe and well, one and all.
Until next time, may your bucket be full of carrots.
Love Cracker