The Boathouse

Conversations on the Geraghty zoom this morning were obviously going to be taken over to a certain extent by the news of a new member of the family this week. Mick is now a Great Uncle for the forth time, congratulations to Ruth, James, P and Daphne.

With the sun out and the temperature rising where we are moored was guaranteed to be a popular place. A group of youngsters arrived planning on a swim, all fine until they start peering into our home. Mick went out the back to adjust things making sure they knew someone was onboard, they moved round the basin to jump in elsewhere.

It was time for Mick to do the oil change, the one he was going to do when Oleanna went into Blue Water Marina in Thorne last November. The timing of it is just about correct with the engine hours, he’d just wanted to leave her over the winter with fresh lubrication. Overalls went on and the bow doors were opened for Tilly to be able to come and go as she pleased, today would be a sausage day.

A rib turned up, another backed down the slipway into the water. Sunny weekend water fun was to be had by many. Groups turned up to socialise, smoke and for some to swim. During one gap Tilly made it back to the boat with ease, staked her claim on the wooden posts and rolled around, MINE! All mine!

With Mick in the engine bay I considered giving Oleanna a wash, but there were too many people about, instead I headed off to buy a newspaper. I could just walk to the Co-op on Thorpe Road but that would be boring, instead I’d head to the one on Oundle Road on the other side of the river. This would mean a good walk along the side of the rowing course and across Orton Lock.

A long straight route towards the river, lots of rowers speeding their way along the course, giant floating pomegranates marking the ends.

Under the Nene Parkway there was a great painting of a hand. Once I was under the bridge and had turned round there were several more quality pieces of graffiti art, some more accomplished than others. Then there were artworks created by school kids that had been printed onto banners and I’d passed several sculptures, quite an arty area.

Orton Lock was full with the top gates left open. Over the last few days notices have been put up by the EA requesting the locks should be left empty with the guillotine gates up, but someone obviously couldn’t be bothered emptying the lock. I walked over the weir across the Nene Valley Railway line and on through Orton Meadows, joined the fast world again before ducking into the wonderfully airconditioned Co-op.

A more relaxed shaded route through woods was found for my return to the river. The lock was full and NB Mushy P was just arriving to go up, out for a pootle making the most of a lovely day.

A quick search on Google suggested there would be a lot of sculptures along a path that ran parallel to the one I’d already walked. Some concrete pieces were nothing special, maybe one was even missing from it’s stand!

Then there were others that stood out. Little Prince by Jane Ackroyd. The Cormorant by Elizabeth Cooke was my favourite with a fish spine in it’s beak.

Festival Boat by Sokari Douglas Camp can be seen from the river glistening in the sunshine. Odd Oaks by Nicholas Pope now decaying and lying on their sides.

When I got back to the boat more people had arrived. A group with a rib were making quite a collection of glasses from the pub. At least two groups were jumping in and we had their music playing. Oleanna’s bow had revisited classics such as Abba and at the stern there was more beat than melody.

Tilly had found a gap to return to Oleanna but around about 5pm she decided that she’d like another perusal around the trees, well within cat curfew she was allowed out, us grateful as tonight I’d unwisely decided to cook a roast chicken, so we were thankful that all doors could be open whilst the oven did it’s thing.

NB Mushy P returned nudging dangling legs out of the way.

6pm came and went, still no Tilly. The groups of loud people, music and splashes almost certainly putting her off making a dash back home. I walked round the nearby wooded area calling for her, hoping that she’d come to me so that I could pick her up and assist her back to the boat. There was no sight or sound.

As one group left another arrived, older men with more music all intent on jumping in.

An hour later Mick tried to find Tilly, still no sign.

I did a round of the wood, chatted to the chap from NB Mushy P who had returned, but still all the people about put her off.

Before our roast was ready someone arrived on a motorbike, they also had to jump in. Then revving of the engine followed.

We really don’t mind sharing the space and water with other people. The noise was a little bit too much at times, but they were all enjoying themselves. However all the time I kept willing them all to PLEASE go HOME! Then Tilly would return of her own accord, well that’s what we hoped.

The roast chicken was eaten, Mick did the washing up. Outside a game of football was had using a plastic bottle as a ball. Just P*ss off! And let my cat come home! Eventually people started to head off. The rib set off, leaving half a pubs worth of empty glasses behind. The motorbike revved itself away. Gradually the final music faded along with the chat and banter. Peace once more. It was 8:30.

Outside one fisherman cast his line into the basin. Mick started walking round. I opened up the land side of the cratch cover a little, big enough for a skinny cat, then did a more concerted walk round the wood. Mad cat woman was out and in full voice. I called and called, then listened for a reply. Nothing!

The only thing left to do was trust in Tilly to come home. The litter tray was put out the back in case she’d got lost and we settled down in front of the TV. An episode of Killing Eve did it’s best to keep us occupied, but all the time I had my ear listening for Tilly’s bell and her thug like sprint across the wooden decking by the mooring.

A little thud was heard at 9:15 as four white paws jumped onto the stern of Oleanna. Thank goodness!! The doors were closed straight away. Tilly headed straight for her food bowl she was starving. Half an hours extra shore leave had turned into over four hours. Thank goodness she is such a good boat cat, she’ll sleep well tonight.

0 locks, 0 miles, 5 walked, 1 oil change, 12mm play on belts, 752 people swimming, 5 cruisers, 32 glasses left, 1 hot day, 1 sculpture trail, 1 stranded cat, 2 concerned boaters, 1 pooh bucket swapped over, 1 failed deterrent, 2 final episodes Killing Eve, 4 white paws and 1 white tipped tail back safe and sound.