The Journey -
Unfinished Business on 'Rosy'

During the last e-mail session when I posted some stuff about 'Rosy', I downloaded several e-mails enquiring about Madame 'The Prescription' and her lacy black knickerettes.  Enquirers ranged from a drunk vicar to some wannabe 'Blue Watch' gents.  Anyway, you should, by now, know that she has sailed off into the wide blue yonder, complete with black lacy knickerettes and bullying hubby.  He is a 'hail fellow well met' jack- the-lad type of person, and it's my theory that he gives her a walloping most evenings - why would she stay with him (as he treats her, in public, so abominably) unless she is scared rigid of him?  Unless he is really a confirmed nutter and she's his psychiatric nurse?

However, since you seem to like the account of the knickerettes, the following may also interest you...

On leaving Rheims, I passed the radar for the first lock.  This is a proximity radar, that can 'see' when a boat is approaching the lock, and sets in motion a train of events that prepares the lock for entry of the boat.  As I said, I passed the radar - and nothing happened.  With difficulty I moored 'Rosy', and crossed a busy road to get to the lock house to make contact with 'the authorities' to tell them that their radar was knackered.  Often, this has to be done over a phone or intercom, as not all lock houses are staffed.  The door of this one was closed so, being a gentleman, I knocked, and being assertive, didn't wait for a reply, but went in.

In place of Mr Lock-keeper, or the occasional Madame Lock-keeper, was a very attractive Mademoiselle Lock-keeperette.  My knock had obviously woken her up, but when I entered she was awake, but fuzzy.  She spoke no English, so the following took place in French.

Moi: Hello sweetie.  I am here with my boat.  The radar is knackered.  May we please pass.

Her: Where is your boat?

Moi: It is here - just below your lower lock gates, which are shut and not transparent, which is why you you can't see the boat.

Her: I cannot see it.

Moi: I'm not here to engage in a philosophical discussion on the merits or demerits of existentialism, and whether my boat is a reality, as such, and hence exists in all possible realities, or whether it merely exists in the eye of the beholder (or beholders if they can agree on the same reference reality).  But if you care to get off your sweet and pert little bottom, then you can brave the motorway traffic to see it for yourself.  Incidentally, I'd like to add that you have the most magnificent pair of knockers that it has been my privilege to see for quite some time, and that I am very much looking forward to seeing them jiggling about as you speed down the uneven towing path to the next lock to set it for me, astride your little phut-phut moped that, I see, the waterway authority has kindly provided for your own personal use.  (Or words to that effect).

She eventually saw that 'Rosy' was indeed there, and pushed the necessary buttons to get the gates open.  I got 'Rosy' into the lock, the gates closed, and we started to rise.

You can't speed this process.  It happens, and it takes time.  The water enters the lock, and it swirls about, and I tend the lines to keep 'Rosy' steady.  But there is time to think, and to ponder and to observe ...  the rubbish.

There is always some rubbish swilling about in a lock.  Bits of weed, bits from trees, bits of plastic bags, the odd bit of rope, maybe a dead cat ...  It's funny, but most things you see, you accept them as a 'bit', and then look for another bit ...  a paper bag, and apple core, an apple core, a used condom ...  'Ello, 'ello, 'ello!!!  I wonder if there's any more of them.  And I looked harder and Lo!  There was.  5 used condoms all in one lock - one black, one luminous, one French tickler and two standard gossamers (unless my eyes deceived me!) With the prettiest lock keeperess in France snoozing in the lock-house.  Now, I'm not jumping to conclusions, but I merely report the facts as I found them ..  a knackered and not very awake lock keeperess of unusual beauty and attractiveness (and French, to boot!) ...  at about 9 am on a Friday morning ...  and 5 used condoms swilling about in her lock.

I've always been brought up to believe that 2 plus 2 equals 4 and not three and a half or five!!! 

Toodle pip!!

Bill