We hadn’t been in the Boat Inn at Thrupp for ages, not having been on the South Oxford since the last time the IWA National was at Beale Park, but last night made up for it. In addition to Bones and Maffi, and Sue and Vic from No Problem, we were joined by Anne and Martin off Black Bess, as well as a pleasant boater only referred to by Bones as H (I think – it was getting a bit late and noisy by then).
This means there may be five different accounts of the evening in due course, though I suspect that they will concur on at least one point; it was an excellent time. Those who were eating had to wait quite a while for their food, and with my susceptibility to hypoglycaemic rage, I was very glad we’d eaten on the boat, but apart from that, the Boat lived up to its reputation as a classic boaters pub.
One topic of discussion was... no not toilets, they didn't come up until very late on, but that other favourite with ageing boaters (so not Bones then, OK), declining standards of courtesy and consideration amongst users of the cut.
I have to say, we’ve found this more of a problem as we came south; what’s a minor irritation in the North (unless you are Roger Millin, of course, and he’s a southerner anyway) is a real hassle down here, especially on narrow and busy sections like that through Thrupp. Furthermore, standards of hirer training seem poorer as well. The villains of this piece are Anglo Welsh, who had hired not one, but two large boats to an all male party, with entirely predictable consequences.
We’ve had them scraping at speed down the side of Sanity Again, not once, not twice, but three times in the last two days: here’s a picture of them disappearing into the distance after Sheila let them by on the run into Oxford. She didn't have a lot of choice, they’d been tailgating with their bow fender literally pressing on our stern.
Apart from that, the weather has been much better, and the run into Oxford interesting, but, as many others have observed, marked by rows of hippy hutches along the towpath. The turn after Louse Lock into the Sheepwash Channel was challenging, but Sheila got us round in one; what she hadn’t bargained for was the similar turn out onto the main river.
On the way back, we’ll use Duke’s Cut, I reckon.
We’ve stopped on the moorings between Osney Bridge and the lock for the night. Excellent mobile signals, as you’d expect; there’s a story to tell about fun with sending emails, now hopefully sorted, but I’ll save that for another time.
