To Oxford and the Thames

Well, once we'd got the windscreen screwed back on in Banbury, we were on our way to Oxford.

We left a day earlier than planned - for some reason Nathan decided to stay in Devon and focus on getting ready for his new job rather than spending eight hours on six different trains and two buses to spend one night on a small and slightly leaky boat with a couple of old people.   We'd promised him a top-notch dinner and everything (see photo on the right) but there was no tempting him.

Maybe it was just as well. South of Banbury, our progress was slow. Some of the bridges are very low, and even barges - much lower in the water than we are - were scraping their top-boxes and wrecking their flowerpots.  Luckily (too much crap boat food?) we didn't even need to recruit extra ballast.  It WAS close: once we had to cling to the side of the boat and lean out like proper sailors to tilt it enough to get through, but we managed to get all the way to Oxford without having to dismantle everything again. Yee-harrrr!

We had a great evening with my old friend Claire halfway down, too, at a place called Aynho Wharf. It's hard to believe we've known one another forty years - she looks just the same, and unlike many people our age, has really kept her sense of fun and wonder at the world.  We chatted and drank and sang our old songs - thanks to Mike's techie tendencies, we have an ace music system, not to mention colour-changing LED lighting - and it was almost like being back at the school disco.  It was completely lovely.

When we were fifteen, my parents were so convinced that Claire was a good influence on me that they went on holiday for a week on condition that she stayed over to keep me in line.  Meanwhile, Claire's parents were so convinced that I was a good influence on HER that they actually agreed to this plan, on condition that we went to Claire's house for dinner every night. We did exactly as we'd been asked, but I'm sure I don't need to tell you that both sets of parents were mistaken.

Oxford was also lovely, but the canal is set back from the city centre and almost hidden away, which seems a waste.  There is talk of extending it, but creating a new city-centre basin would involve losing a car park.  Apparently the powers-that-be assume that people arriving by road are likely to contribute more to Oxford's economy than ramshackle boaters like us.

In all honesty they'd usually be right, but they hadn't banked on Gary.  He is another old friend - a non-driver, but a lover of smart hotels, champagne, fine dining, culture, business, and gambling.   Thanks to the latter two, we ate out every night (I can highly recommend Pierre Victoire), and thanks to the one before that, we saw the Bodleian Library, the Bridge of Sighs, numerous college quadrangles, and the Ashmolean Museum - which was absolutely amazing.   We were stunned by so many things: the beauty of a real Monet, the guilt of all the stuff we plundered from Greece and Crete, and the impossibility of ever getting on the list of benefactors.  When the list includes the Queen AND Monsanto, you get the feeling that you're talking millions. But hey, I think Oxford has enough money already.

The highlight for me:  the Botanical Gardens.   I wish Belinda had been there to talk us through everything (she not only gave us our Spannerish name; she is also a plant ecologist) but we really enjoyed it even so.   Gary is very camera-shy but here's one of him and some plants...

... and there were lots of other lovely plants too, including ones that eat insects - could do with some of those on the boat as I'm apparently irresistible to bitey things - and giant waterlilies that looked as if you could sit on them (we didn't try).

Gary left yesterday morning, and thoughtfully vacated his hotel suite early to allow us to make use of it till check-out time.  Mike and I had baths - utter bliss - and watched telly for the first time in six weeks (not sure we've been missing much).  We also found a launderette, which - take it from me - was not before time.

We got up early this morning and went down the lock which separates the Oxford Canal from the River Thames.  It's only a few feet down, but what a difference!  Suddenly everything is wide and expansive - even the locks are huge (and electrically operated - bad for bingo wings but fab for morale), and it really is incredibly exciting.  There's a mythology about this river, a sense of history and civilisation, which I'm finding very moving.   It's not just that it's been here long before I ever was and will still be here long after I'm gone; it's all the stories connected to Old Father Thames: paupers, princes, palaces, and all the rest.  I've even been thinking about David Walliams swimming it, and have to say I have a new-found respect for him: it's a long way.

The Thames just is very special.  We're hoping to go all the way through to Limehouse, which will take us through Shakespeare's London and past the Houses of Parliament. I will try to take pictures but I might just be too awed.

On the downside, we had to buy a special Thames licence this morning.  We've already paid six hundred quid for a year's Canal and River Trust Licence (and another £70 for a month on the River Avon) but the Thames is administered by the Environment Agency and the Port of London Authority, and we had to pay £80 to the EA today - possibly more to the PoLA in a week or so.   I'm not complaining - we can see all the work going on to keep all these waterways open - but it's no wonder that fellow boaters say that B.O.A.T is an acronym for Bring On Another Thousand.

Tonight we're in Abingdon - a really pretty town - and here, the councillors have made a real effort to attract tourists. Two hours' car parking is free, and there are also lovely free moorings. Here's the view from the boat tonight...

... so can't complain, really.   Maybe the wonderful thing about this slow boating life is that I don't even want to, any more.

One last thing - in what has turned out to be a very long and rambling post; thank you for bearing with me - is narrowboat names.   We've seen a lot: a Jennifer May, a Shelby, not to mention a Susie AND a Suzy (they were best, obviously), but also dozens of Narrow Escapes, Pipe Dreams, Dreamcatchers and Carpe Diems.  There was a Last Command (retired military?), a P45 (redundancy?), and a Kids' Inheritance too.   The only one that made both of us laugh out loud, though, was Flat Bottomed Girl.

Off to put a Queen album on now. xx