The new year is beginning to feel old, which, I guess, is a way of saying I am beginning to feel at home again along the tow path.
I have a new neighbour (Mr Badger) and the swan family has changed, but otherwise things are pretty much as usual: Ratty emerged from his boat for the first time this morning (that is, the first time I have seen him since I got back), off for a toilet run. He’s still banned from the pub. Ferret, working on the new boat, has broken up with Dina, but she still shows up at the pub now and then, never ever without her head covered.
Wheels finally got his engine up and running, and Tad is still moored by the pub because it is easier for Chris to get on and off since she broke her hip after the particularly jolly boaters Christmas party (which I missed) when more than one of my neighbours ended up at the hospital.
Kate, who has one good arm and one shrunken by thalidomide, greeted me warmly when we met along the tow path. But I have also met her on the street when we are each in our respectable, Oxford lives, and she has shown no sign of recognition.
James and Emma, the young archaeologists, who used to rent Cherry Lea, are gone, leaving their vintage Triumph in the car park, so I guess they will be back. Pat the Grumpy Mechanic will have a word or two to say then. He’s let it known to anyone who cares to listen that they owe him at least two Jack Daniels and a Diet Coke for all the work he did on that car.
John, the new boy in the pub, is now renting Cherry Lea, squatting a mile north by Pigeon’s Lock.
John says he’s going to marry Cherry Lea’s owner, who sometimes lives in the Seychelles and sometimes in Staffordshire, and then it will be their boat together.
I point out that he has just told me he already has a wife in Bicester, Oxfordshire, and several grown children. He shrugs and says, I’m too old for you, anyway.
When I drift over to talk to Pat the Grumpy Mechanic he nods towards John and says, That guy works on a Bull Farm.
I reply, Oh no! He makes specialist microscopes! He told me so.
I am an unusually literal person.
Anyway, I was only at the pub because Pat earlier reminded me that on Thursday the fiddly diddlies are there, and so he urged me to come. I asked the Landlord, Stematos, if he paid them for the gig.
He looked astonished, and said that he didn’t charge them for practicing in his pub.
Just before I went home alone, to be in bed by eleven (according to my new year’s resolution), I pointed out to Pat, in my literal way, that there wasn’t a single fiddler amongst them: two banjos and more accordions than are probably legal in a single location.
The fiddly diddlies
When you were 19 or so, did you EVER imagine you would be having such adventures? And in such an exotic place? Stay warm, dear.
Comment by msmeta — January 29, 2010 @ 3:24 pm
I’d be very interested in a series about the backgrounds of each of these interesting people and how you came to be amongst the lot. I know a little from an earlier post where you briefly explained why you are on the boat but I know there’s much more to be told.
I’ll be waiting and hoping……
Comment by Midlife Slices — January 30, 2010 @ 5:14 pm
I stumbled onto your blogsite from a comment you posted on Steerforth’s site. I was interested to read that you are an American living and working in England, and are now a British Citizen. Since you spent some long time in Seattle last fall visiting your new grandchild, I wondered are you originally from Seattle? I live in Kirkland, across Lake Washington.
I read several of your older posts. I particularly enjoyed the one about your son’s birth certificate. My cousin’s name is Laurine. It was supposed to be Lorraine, but my uncle filled out the birth registery and he was a rotten speller. American bureaucrats are no more amenable to change than British ones and Laurine she remained ’til the day she died.
I also liked the one about the presidents and the footage of Torvil and Dean. I still remember seeing them perform that routine on television and was absolutely mesmerized.
Regarding your remark about James Polk — I had a history professor who once referred to Polk as “one of our near great presidents” though for the life of me, I can’t recall what he did that made him “near great!”
I have bookmarked your site so that I can read more of your interesting posts. I don’t have a blogsite, but when I comment on other people’s blogs, I used the name, Canadian Chickadee — I am a transplanted Canadian and now a US citizen. I figure, if you’re going to pay taxes to a country you might as well be able to vote and complain like everyone else!
Thanks for your posts.
Comment by Carol Lake — January 31, 2010 @ 8:09 am
“I am an unusually literal person.” That made me laugh!
Comment by Denise — January 31, 2010 @ 10:59 am
My question is: do people who don’t know that you are American by birth moved to the UK as a young adult realize that you are not British?
Comment by Jan — January 31, 2010 @ 6:09 pm
Ms Meta and MLS – When I was 19 I suppose I assumed I would have a much more conventional (and exalted) middle age. I often now think of an old Maine joke I knew when I was a kid; the punchline was always, You can’t get there from here.
Turns out you can.
Carol – Thanks for reading! I thought just the same when I finally became a Brit a few years ago. I was interested to hear your Laurine story. A long time ago I wrote a novel where one of the characters was called Hosie, a botched attempt by a gringo at José.
I’m originally from Virginia, but grew up mainly in New England and spent a couple of years in California before I went to England. My son lives in Seattle and my mother lives on one of the San Juan islands, so I visit that area often these days.
Denise – it is sadly true, and often gets me into trouble.
Jan – EVERYONE knows I am not British. I don’t sound remotely as if I could have lived here for 30+ years (tin ear, I guess). The problem I have is back in America where I understand nothing, but no one makes any allowances because I don’t sound foreign. They just think I am a cretin. I would tell the story of my attempts at pay at the pump petrol (we don’t have that here) but it requires gestures. I often dine out on it in England.
Comment by Duchess — February 1, 2010 @ 12:18 pm
Dear modest Duchess, you say “a long time ago I wrote a novel” when you should say “published a novel” to let these nice people know — I believe it’s still to be found on Amazon.com, or if not there, Alibris. Some of your readers might like to know the pre-blog you.
As I had the luck to.
tp
Comment by T P — February 6, 2010 @ 6:37 am