109.The Heron

Halfway between Goring and Pangbourne there is a turn and a fork in the river and going down stream. At the junction of the fork, on the channel marker, someone has nailed a full-sized, life like heron to a direction sign.

Isn’t it wonderful that even after twenty years that this piece of plastic is still there and has been theft- proof which just goes to show that there are some honest people about and that must apply to the boating community as a whole. It just goes to show that if you nail something to the top of a 15 foot high pole and surround it by water, the chances of it walking are much reduced.

The sign of the heron is also were the narrow boat “Pica Pica “is moored .This is the latin name for magpie. Jimmy remembers magpies very well and once sent his sweetheart a text message with the simple message “Pica Pica x 2”, or in these hard economic times she may have preferred “Pica Pica x 5” but all that glitters is not gold,  but just ask any  magpie the same question!

108. Men in Skiffs

The original guys who did the Three Men in Boat trip carried out their journey while paddling a skiff. A skiff is a round-bottom clinker-built rowing boat and these are still very common on the River Thames even today. During the year, skiffing regattas are held in various river-side towns in England—the major event being the Skiff Championships Regatta which takes place each year at Henley. More on this later in the book.

On the downward journey we spotted two such skiffs at Cleeve lock and then again at Goring lock. These two skiffs had started from Oxford and were rowing down to Kingston and their occupants were trying the emulate the journey of the original Three Men in  a Boat. When asked by the First Mate “Why do you have a crew of five then?”   , the leader of the group, a carrot  headed chap, called Melvyn told us “ We have a crew of three rowers and  the other two in the back   are non- rowers and are our  chief cooks and bottle washers.”.The First Mate looked over at the couple of dogs sat in the back of the boat, smiled and said “Guard dogs as well eh” .Melvyn laughed and replied “ They’re twins you know, and they’re both called Monmorency “.” Get away the First Mate “said” You must be joking “”Well you started it “ chuckled Mervyn.

107. A short guide to public convenience suitable for boaters on the Thames (Reading to Oxford) with special reference to those offering seated facilities.

Another donation gratefully accepted from El Siddero.

One of the great joys of an all male boating party is that the intake of sustenance (both solid and liquid) can proceed at a prodigious pace in the various hostelries conveniently located to ones accommodation. This is especially true of the evening sessions which inevitably end in each happy and somewhat tipsy crew member slipping sylph like into bed to sleep, perchance to dream (which must under no circumstances be confused with passing out!).

For all pleasures in life there is of course a penalty to be paid. To awake in ones berth in the early hours with a throbbing head-ache in direct proportion to the degree of being “over served” by the simple river folk running the public house frequented but a few short hours earlier is – a special kind of hell. To add to this torture is the deafening sound of water cascading from an impossibly great height as first Jimmy and then Billy relieve themselves in a small cupboard only inches away.

Just when you think that things cannot get any worse and having consumed several pints of cold orange juice and a whole bottle of Paracetamol (extra strong) there comes a rumble from “down below”. The memory and images of last nights copious dinner, voluminous intake of beer plus a substantial late supper (taken on-board) serve as an explanation to the growing stomach pains and associated general sense of urgency.

This reader is not the time to be politely enquiring as to the location of the nearest public convenience. If one is available it may be too far off in terms of a safe arrival or upon reaching it with sweating brow and tightly clenched buttocks the realisation of it being locked can be personally devastating!

Precisely what constitutes an acceptable Dungy (as our down to earth Australian cousins affectionately call them) is something that varies greatly between men. Some people are quite at home to settle down in close proximity to their fellow mankind. Jimmy for instance has no inhibitions in the ablutions department whatsoever and would I’m sure gladly squat and perform top onlookers in an amphitheatre should one mysteriously be available. Others such as the dignified Billy and myself, having had more gentlemanly upbringings are inhibited by public interest in our motions and demand two things, privacy and hygiene.

Goring is well endowed with male seated convenience facilities. We were able to reap the benefits of prior reconnaissance that had pin-pointed a more than adequate public building for said purposes within easy walking distance of our mooring. Having previously timed the walk at a brisk pace, so as to accurately mimic my determined march the next morning, I set off the next morning in anger and at a steady pace and reached the drop zone with seconds to spare. This may have, at least in part be due to my sighting a competitor boater making his way to the exact same spot! Initially we sort of ignored each other until on reaching the main street our shared intention became obvious and a controlled walk cum race ensued sped up in my case be the recollection of but a single trap at the destination. What became of this silver medallist I know not but his disappointment in not securing the accommodation was evident from the numerous animal in pain noises he that filled the air as I settled down to my own relief.

Luckily Billy did not select the same seat for his enforced early morning march. Being a retired bank manager he was used to superior arrangements for enthroning himself and duly made his way to the Swan Diplomat Hotel where, masquerading as a business man “in no particular hurry”, he bluffed his way into the gents and spent a leisurely 20 minutes or so in contemplation, downloading of internal waste material followed by commendable washing and grooming eventually returning in triumphant manner to the boat.

Our next port of call was at Abingdon. Moorings are to be found conveniently (that word again) located downstream of the road bridge on the right hand side, starboard to fellow sailors. Initial investigations by Billy, my fellow in waste disposal (human) revealed superb facilities a mere 60 or so yards from our floating home, what luck! Bliss even you might say to have such a facility in close proximity but also enjoying the qualities of privacy and freedom from both olfactory as well as noise pollution for both dumpees as well as their boating colleagues.

Everything is not always, as they say, as it first appears. The public convenience at Abingdon is actually a trap! It takes the form of a small, perfectly formed prefabricated building cum Tardis but whether at the hand of a fiendish council employee or a bored and mischievous school boy it had been turned into an engine of torture or worse still incarceration. Luckily Billy, who takes nothing for granted, decided to test that entry to this apparently innocent contraption could indeed by obtained for the stated and I thought very reasonable sum of 20 pence. Not only did he lose his money but the door refused to open rendering any thought of making use of the facilities contained therein redundant and indeed more than a little frightening as we were both of the belief that we had seen the “box” trap an unsuspecting boater hours earlier. Had he set up home in there? Had he been sucked, wellies and all around the U bend? Or perhaps like a humane mouse trap the whole toilet was full of unsuspecting boaters in various states of decomposition who found a way in but not one out. Perhaps fortunately we shall never know. It still sends a shiver down my spine thinking of the narrow escape we both had.

Fortunately neither Billy nor myself were in desperate need of said Thomas Crapper Inventions bright and early the next morning that of our second day afloat. We were prepared for a delay in the resumption of normal service after the sobering revelations of the previous evening relating to the tardis box-trap. As usual Jimmy squeezed his way into the cupboard that separated Billy’s and my own sleeping quarters and judging from the grunts and groans followed by the sound of large objects dropping into water (or what passed for it at one time) found satisfaction within its limited confines. I never did see inside our very own Black Hole so can’t say for certain what it contained.

There was a diversion to Red Line Marine to fill up with fuel at a truly exorbitant price which I could only come to terms with paying by looking at the payment in terms of foreign aid to the poor river folk of Oxfordshire. At this point those familiar “grumblings down below” first with me and then Billy informed us that we had best be on our way. We quickly resumed our journey up-stream initially at a leisurely pace in line with the 5 knots per hour speed limit but such was our growing sense of urgency that it was necessary to put the craft Lorna 2 on the plane in order to avoid a disaster of horrific proportions that would see us swabbing the decks for days to come and worse still visiting retail outlets for new supplies of underwear.

Our new target was the conveniences located to the rear of the public swimming pool (closed) to port. No reconnaissance had been possible and Billy upon realising that we may have to take turns if only a single trap were on offer suggested we toss a coin. Though we were in full flight at this stage (and being younger and fitter I was well in the lead) I admirably, in m opinion, agreed and duly called “heads”. Without announcing the winner Billy used the ploy to overtake me and indeed ensconce himself in the single operational trap. Never one to panic in a moment of potential danger I swung on my heels and entered the traps reserved usually for the memsahibs and was jolly grateful I had done so I can tell you. Luckily my actions went undetected or disturbed, by either council official or female of the species, so I risked a strip down wash at the sink too emerging minutes later both relieved as well as sweet smelling and ready for any challenges that lay ahead. Nevertheless the whole experience was rather too close for comfort and could have had a much different outcome.

I should point out that I have largely restricted this instructional piece to morning movements as these undoubtedly have the most urgency about them but opportunities to keep the colon at a manageable level during the day should only be ignored at your peril. Lunch time is a very good time to visit the toilets of public houses in my extensive experience. Competition is inclined to be low or restricted to members of your own group which means there is sufficient time for such niceties as cleaning or re-attaching seats and to check the sufficiency of luxuries such as bum wipes and operational flushing systems complete with water. Apparently some wags find it humorous to remove toilet paper, switch off water supplies or worse still to cunningly cover the pan with cling film with obvious dire consequences on behalf of the person doing the squatting.

A determined leg on day 2 saw us pulling into moorings for Oxford in the evening. Not a sign of a public toilet anywhere, be warned. Furthermore a complete absence of convenient “waste land” or associated woodland could indeed catch the unprepared morning boater unaware. The towpath is in more or less constant use and I’m sure nobody would take kindly to a person squatting in a public place even if it were as a last resort.

To add to the above serious situation is the fact that many of the City’s public toilets feature ‘Out of Order’ signs or have been subject to obvious vandalism rendering them non-operational but take heart as salvation is at hand in the form of the Queens Head Public House one of the marvellous Wetherspoon chain. Here not only can one enjoy a great pint of beer for a fraction of the cost of other pubs but drink it in the certain knowledge that in the basement below you are toilet facilities “to die for”. Whilst saving ourselves from certain de-hydration that night we pleasantly observed that the establishment opened at 07.30 hours in the morning proving ideal for our purpose being only a 5 minute forced march from the mooring, 10 minutes if you follow Jimmy’s so-called short cut.

The following morning indeed found all three of us executing the leisurely put together plan hatched over a beer (not a measure to be taken literally) the night before. So relaxed was I in the knowledge of proven facilities being nearby that I somewhat cavalierly let Billy dump first. He returned before breakfast was served with vitally important technical information, only one trap was equipped with paper! Now this MAY sound like a small matter to some of you but those with less defined stools and/or rather hairy bottoms the consequences will be all too obvious and I hope not familiar.

Suffice it to say that I duly followed Billy to the fully functioning trap and had a more than satisfactory experience. I am sorry to say though that I rather let my fellow mankind down when whilst washing myself at the sink (hands and torso only this time) that I somehow failed to point out to the next customer not to use trap 2 and soon this was made superfluous by the sounds of defecation emerging from that stall. How he fared without paper or made his way hopefully without mishap to stall 1 I know not, “there but for the grace of God” etc.

Return Leg at Wallingford

Once again public conveniences are not obvious at this historic once walled town. Luckily however, as in the case of Goring Billy’s new found but brazen technique of assuming airs and graces and striding manfully passed reception and sundry cleaning staff in hotels as if he were the owner did us both proud as we (separately of course) availed ourselves of the up-market toilet accommodation of the George Hotel conveniently located just off the high street again to starboard. A word of warning again, if I may, doesn’t leave your journey to such destinations to the last minute and always, but always check out the number and general condition of the traps on offer. Failure to follow this advice could prove embarrassing, messy and even result in arrest by the police for a variety of public indecency offences

106. Ginger and The Finchampstead Filly

While gaily going about our stroll in Wallingford, Billy popped his head into a pub and was beckoned to come on it by a dark haired lady in her mid forties. She was accompanied by a surly guy who seemed to  not want his lady friend  to be chatted up by two complete strangers, Jimmy being the odd –man- out and showing his strength of character by not chasing never –to- be caught fillies. The filly in question, Sylvia was from Finchampstead and James, her bloke, came from Tidmarsh.

As the night wore on, the Finchamstead Filly drank more and more ,  her conversation and familiarity increased in  direct proportion  and her story stated to  unfold .She had been married and so had Ginger James to their respective husband and wife, they had fallen in love, left their spouses and then got together for about four years. During this time he would get drunk and beat her up. Phil said “Ginger couldn’t have been very good at it, because there were no visible signs of wife beating”. “Maybe he should have had a few more pints of Stella, affectionately known in local pubs as Wife Beater” added the Cabin Boy.

Both Phil and Billy were privy to more intimate details while chatting to her outdoors while Jimmy kept the coast clear, by entertaining Ginger with tales of fish he hadn’t caught over the years.

Walking home, the Captain said “My mum, you know never liked “ginger nuts” reckoned they always had pink eyes and reminded her of white mice and pigs”. She thought that they were some kind of mutant and this was caused by something deficient in their make-up.”. I didn’t notice he was wearing any” said the Cabin boy’.”Well” said the Captain “How do you think those ginger haired people cover up all their freckles then, I’ll tell you  even ,the blokes put make-up on with a trowel.” “Yea, that’s right Billy ” said The First mate.”Look at that Virgin Queen of ours, that Elizabeth the First. She was as ginger as my grannies tabby chat and was plastered in it. No wonder she never got rogered!”

105 .The Secret life of the PORG (Contributers :Sid and Billy Hughes)

I fully expect that many of you reading this will not have heard of Porgs and yet they are all around us. YOU might even be one yourself without knowing it. Look around you at other people, go on do it now. Do you have to look up at an acute angle to make eye contact? Are you forever in other people’s shadow? Do you have to tip toe to see what’s going on or jump up on the verge or small walls when having a conversation outside with “normal “people? Well if you answered “yes” to all or most of these questions the chances are that you are indeed a Person of Restricted Growth, a.k.a. A Porg!

Scientific research has proven that Porgs represent about 2% of the human population though obviously in some societies this figure could be a lot higher such as with Kalahari Bushmen for instance. Many Porgs at first appear to be perfectly normal, physically that is. It is only when you view them next to normally grown people that the condition becomes obvious. Take a look at the pictures of our trip. Is one of the crew a Porg? It ain’t rocket science, of course it is Jimmy.

Now Porgs enjoy certain advantages in life. They are able to squeeze into small places where us mere “normals” would never fit, such as the toilet on board Lorna 11. They can get to crowded bars more easily under the legs of those queuing but tend to be rather stumped if when they get to the bar there is no furniture to jump up on and are forced instead to pogo on the spot hopefully synchronising their speech with the up-stroke. They make excellent pick-pockets as well as voyeurs (being at the right height to look through key holes). No doubt there are other advantages to being a runt, sorry Porg but not being one I would not know.

Then we come to the other side of the coin, the disadvantages of suffering from Porgism. The awful smell associated with having to inhale air at arm-pit level all the time which might explain why they are often seen pucking. Forever being poked in the eye by people’s elbows or worse still ladies pointed bras. Not to mention being the butt of various Porg related jokes and worst of all perhaps being thrown through the air by all comers just because you happened to stumbled into the local Dwarf Throwing Contest. There is not the room in this short piece to go into the difference between the various types of short people such as dwarves, midgets, pigmies, children, jockeys, amputees and so forth.

Because the disadvantages of Porgism far outweigh the advantages this leads to a scarring of the mind to differing degrees largely relating to the number of normal people the Porg has engaged with. IF the Porg is married to a tall/normal woman then he may be beyond recovery. Of course there are women Porgs too but they are less obvious as they tend to wear high heel shoes with some even resorting to walking on stilts (carefully hidden under slacks) in order to disguise their deformity.

Due to this mental scarring some Porgs are not safe to take out in public as they may bite gouge or otherwise attack strangers. Before entering a Public House with your Porg it is best to enquire of the Landlord if they have a Porg Friendly Policy or not. Such was the case on our trip when Billy and I entered the Eagle in Wallingford. To ensure that we were not refused being served Billy got in an order for two pints of special before Phil enquired as to the establishment’s Porg Policy. The Landlord, already a little cagey/edgy at this point (quite understandably in our view) asked if we would take full responsibility for said Porg. We replied that the Porg was still relatively sober (for Jimmy that is) and in any case we had all of the necessary Porg owners’ equipment with us including a muzzle, leash and dog fight breaking sticks. With this Jimmy was allowed to enter the Public Bar, (see photographic evidence of which he is very proud).

Unbeknown to us the Pub in question already had a resident Porg who was also the mascot for the darts team who were performing that night. I have omitted to tell you that Porgs are extremely territorial and will go to all and any lengths to prevent a competitor Porg moving in on their patch. Upon the realisation that another Porg was in “his” bar the resident Porg flew at poor old Jimmy and a terrific fight ensued. Though even smaller than our Porg the resident had home advantage as well as that of surprise and hence gained an early advantage. Jimmy being rather heavier and also brought up on the streets of Liverpool came back gamely. Tables and chairs were thrown all over the place. Beer glasses smashed as were two windows as the battle raged.

Looking at each other Billy and I felt obliged to step in to prevent further damage. We broke the Porgs apart using breaking sticks made of ebony to open their impressive jaws which were locked together. The damage to both Porgs was horrific though they do tend to repair quite quickly especially if you feed them on Pedigree Chum (a little tip for the would be Porg owner). It was only when it became evident that some serious money might be had by means of betting by the two rival darts teams that we released our respective grips on the Porgs. With careful timing (so as to be fair to both Porgs) we released the Porgs. Having bet on Jimmy (due to weight, slight height and Scouse upbringing) I’m afraid I released him a little early and he soon had the resident Porg in a death grip for which Porgs are famous. This consists of biting the rival Porg around the back of the neck whilst simultaneously putting both hands in his pockets and lifting him uff the ground so that the underpants (if worn) restrict the general area of the gonads so restricting the blood flow to the brain located there. This is another way that Porgs differ from us normal folk.

So the fight was over, the battle won. The owner of the resident Porg readily accepted defeat and bets were settled. The Porgs having had their blood up were some time in settling down and had to be restrained with rope and chains and tethered at opposite ends of the Bar (see photo) where they lay staring and growling at each other. Billy and I returned to the job in hand and had a whale of an evening drinking with our new found friends and in one case girlfriend (the Filly from Finchampstead). The winnings were sufficient to pay for all beer consumed that night and in recognition of a fight well fought we allowed Jimmy some beer served in his very own Porg bowl.

As Phil, was filling up the Porg bowl for the umpteenth time, he was approached by a guy called Billy Hughes, quite a pleasant chap in his late forties.” I couldn’t help but admiring  your mate, the Porg, the one  with the short fat hairy legs , and after such a fight, I bet that the little fellow could eat a horse, second thoughts maybe  a pony, and I was wondering if I could introduce myself.  You see I used to work for Mars who make a range of pet foods including Go Cat,Pedigree Chum and Mr.Dog and I have  now branched out on my own and specialise in food for Porgs.At Master Porg Foods Inc we we are now looking at selling what we think could be a market leading break through, our own brand and recipes. The range includes dwarf rabbit stew with stumpy carrots, pigmy pie with short crust pastry runt of pork roast with baby parsnips and various mini bites. Here’s my business card to pass on to your mate and he may also be interested in a line of toys that my missus is making for Porgs . Similar to Barbie Dolls, My Little Pony and Sindy , but her versions are more lifelike and come with all parts in proportion and in working order, if you know what I mean.

104. Pub signs and pictures

Pub signs and pictures found inside pubs are of interest to many people who frequent them and the walls of the Dolphin in Wallingford were adorned with an assortment of them. The actual pub's sign outside features a   main dolphin which looks more like the Hunchback of Notre Dame and the one on the top left of the sign looks like one carved out of wood with a blunt penknife, by a five year old child.

Inside the Dolpin, there are three main types of pictures or signs. The hand crafted signs on the Gents and Ladies conveniences are humorous and novel. 

The “funny picture postcard pictures are quite illuminating and the Route 66 sign is tacky and unfitting. If you ever go into a pub check out the stuff that they have put on the walls it gives an insight into the type of person who had put up the signs. 

The Cabin Boy asked”What do you really think about the Internet then Captain”. “He replied that it is simply a global network which contains the largest on-line library available in the world, where people can search for information.”The First Mate interrupted” I’ll tell you what sort of people use the net a lot, it’s used by people who are into wanking, the god squad, people up themselves, decision dodgers and generally people who like to waste their time and what’s more, it is a well known fact that excessive use on the Internet can stunt your personality and send you blind.”.”The Cabin Boy laughed “For all your posh friends Captain, he meant to say people who are into masturbation, religious fanatics, narcissism,   procrastination and lay-abouts “”Well that must be practically everyone I know,” said the Captain.”The First Mate added “I forgot to mention    , two really big users of the net, the geeks and all those lonely people who do internet dating. Yes Billy don’t forget, love is just one click away.”The Captain said “don’t you mean nerds instead of geeks?”.”No I don’t Captain, a geek has both technical and social skills while a nerd has only technical skills.”.” What am I then First Mate? “asked Billy.”Billy dear boy” replied the First Mate.”You are neither a geek or a nerd”.”Thanks for that First Mate” said Billy.”No need to thank me Billy, as the Captain and I both know you neither have technical or social skills, you’re just a plain old dork.

However these days publicans don’t seem to stay long in the same place .This may be due to that fact that they have drank all the pubs profit and have  developed an alcohol dependency, or have pissed off with one of the regular’s wives or have become so  affected by listening to the constant drivel that drunks speak when they have been over-served , that one day when they can’t stand  it anymore of they just leave  ,or in the case of  pub landlords who  are just tenants, they   pack their bags and do a moonlight flit with the week’s takings.