I’m getting a cocky bounce now as I check my map to prove my
arrogant swagger is not misplaced. The Canal is within an hour and I know
exactly what I’m doing. The sun is out and I’ve got a grin on my face like a
Cheshire Cat who’s just found out he has won free dental treatment for the rest
of his nine lives.
I can’t
remember the name of the village just North of the Kennet (1.2 miles North)
where I stopped to cook my tin of beans with sausages (not sure I ever knew its’
name) but it had a typical bench on the green, complete with a plaque and a
dedication. I took out my map for no reason other than to know where I am and
rolled a ciggie. I packed the map and headed over the bridge onto the Kennet.
My
speed along the towpath was leisurely to say the least and I stopped at most
locks.
Every lock has a
bench.
Every bench has a
plaque.
Every plaque has a
name.
***
The names are full names often
with “nicknames” between the first and last and the short dedications started
me thinking about how much I’d like to have met these people when all their
quirks and oddities were celebrated.
Boats have singular
names such as “Rosey.”
It was
somewhere in the middle of the afternoon and somewhere in the middle of
Wiltshire when I realised how little I had talked in 4 days. I realised this after
I’d sat on a bench at a lock next to a lady sat on the same bench at the
same lock enjoying the peace. I had explained my thoughts on the names of boats
and benches and moved on to how many lanes in England are called Church Lane or
maybe Church Road and what makes a lane a lane and a road a road when she made
her excuses and left.
***
The
rest of the day was beautiful but uneventful. Anyone and everyone on a boat topped
up my water bottle and offered food (the cheese and pickle sandwich was amazing!)
I had a few fantastic moments of fulfilment but mostly I was feeling very smug.
The stage was set for a fall and this fool was blissfully unaware.
Anywhere
past Newbury would be a result so as I boiled water for a Mugshot in a park
with a pond and numerous benches in Newbury I was a little arrogant. Actually, a
little arrogant was 5 miles West of here and that was a couple of hours ago.
Cocky is the word. “Just got to find a place to rest my pioneering head
and I’m done.”
I found
a place to sleep. A ‘grassy area’ on the south side of the canal (getting
technical with my descriptions) and I wrote a letter to some young people I
know because hand written envelopes are nice to wake up to, especially when
it’s not your birthday although if I waffled like I did to my lock lady it was
probably a battle of endurance to read. I had a quick swim-wash and settled
down for the night.
By the
time it was fully dark and I was wrapped up in my bivvy it sounded like a
tractor was cutting grass, it was close but the volume was distant and relaxing
in a murmuring sort of way. A low rhythmic rumble whose sound surrounded my
head. It would have been the best track on a “sounds to sleep by” CD except I
kept thinking “who would be cutting grass in the dark?”
No-one.
It does
rain in the dark though and it’s raining now but it’s not a problem because I’m
wrapped up and I’m a pioneer but in the morning…
In the morning it’s still raining, I’m still dry and I’m
still in my bivvy. I unzipped the hood a fraction. Rain and other 4 letter
words flooded through my head. It’s time for a very simplified plan that I can
stick to.
Get
out. Grab stuff. Run
to the bridge for shelter.
20 minutes later and with no Plan B I opted for Plan A.
***
If
I had the emergency cash people had suggested I take I would be heading to Newbury
train station but I didn’t so I can’t. instead, with a fading battery, I looked
up the weather. Rain all day.
I
need to get dressed but the only dry place to do it is here. Under a bridge. On
a public footpath.
It
is public but it’s also 6am, no-one will be using it so it’ll be fine.
An
early rising, environmentally sound office worker cycled past in a hi-vis jacket.
I waited two minutes and no-one else came past. Just because no-one else came
past in those two minutes doesn’t mean no-one will come past in the next two
minutes though and I wasted those two minutes because now it will only get
busier (I wasted 3 minutes thinking about that.)
Finally,
I got my dry clothes out in the order I would put them on (I’m learning) and
stripped. I’m now naked with a soaked sleeping bag laid out in a sleeping
position under a bridge just outside of town. What do I look like now?
I’m
dry and it’s raining outside. I am also hungry so ‘Pepper the food provider’ is
In action with beans and tuna in a camping tray acting much like the protective
blanket that my bivvy had to me an hour ago.
I
smoked a ciggie while they cooked and let out a sigh. The ciggies to sighs
ratio would make interesting reading to a psychologist but I’m a regular bloke
who half an hour ago was naked with a soaked sleeping bag laid out in a
sleeping position under a bridge just outside of town who is now cooking beans
and tuna on a stove made from a discarded can.
Time to move on.
When
I left the bridge the rain had turned to heavy drizzle and within half an hour it
had stopped. It was disappointingly easy and I was gutted by the fuss I had
made.
I
would love to tell you about the sense of achievement, the pioneering spirit
and the love of the world I felt and I could because I’m quite good at lying
but this was just a mission to get home. I plodded. I used my battered body like
the battery on my phone to listen to “The Graveyard Book” and ticked the locks
and the miles off until Theale where I moved away from the Canal and posted the
letter to the boys and crossed the M4.
The
drizzle passed and the rain poured but I still stopped to laugh at an amusingly
apt sign.
I
reached the Calcot Hotel and took shelter in the smoking area.
I smoked.
I
smoked for an hour or more until the A4 was, in an ironic gesture, looking more
like a Canal than a road (God must have tired of his cat videos.)
I
walked the A4 from Calcot, the same road I had walked so many times before.
This time was a little bit longer but when I got home only James was in.
“How
was it?” he asked.
“yeah,
really good.”
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