General Witterings -
Rosy Returns

Sorry I've been away for a bit - I've just had a quick visit to the UK.

It started with the train to Paris, where I spent three or four hours in The Arsenal, a mooring in the middle of Paris - at the Bastille.  I can moor Rosy there for a year for about €3500, inc. water and electric.  Now there's a thought!!!

Coach from Paris to Victoria Coach Station in London, and then a quick visit down to Bristol, for a meander around the docks, and a visit to the Marine Exhibition.  My old military friends may like to know that I got into a brief phone conversation with Peter MacDonald (ex Brigadier Ammo Org) who became Bristol's official sword bearer, has written several books and runs his own publishing company (vanity publishing, I think).  He seems to be in good heart, and is enjoying life.

Then to Welsh Wales for the marriage of Joe 'n' Jackie.  Joe Jones is an old boating friend, who helped me change 'Rosy' from a week-ending holiday boat to a live-aboard.  Joe 'n' Jackie actually had two weddings - a church wedding on 2 Jun 2002, and a canal-side the next day - Jubilee Day.

Quite where the church wedding was, no one seemed to know.  Several cars did a scenic tour of South Wales, as the lead driver thought that it was somewhere where it wasn't.  However, eventually Vicar, bride, groom and guests all gathered together in a Primitive Methodist Chapel, where Jackie had been Christened.  The church was neatly kept, very plain, with some very nice oak pews, altar and altar rails - just the sort of wood that could be used to line out and furnish a narrow boat ...

The organist played some slowish, inspiring music, though one got the impression that he was always on the verge of breaking into 'Basin Street Blues' or 'Jailhouse Rock'.  It was no surprise therefore when the bride approached the altar rail to the strains of 'The Happy Wanderer'.

The bride's side of the church were all dressed in their finery.  In particular, the bride's mum looked a knockout in various vibrant hues of blue.  She was one of those mums who set out to have a jolly good day, and succeeded.

The groom's side, on the other hand, looked ...  well ...  boaty!!!  They also looked pretty stunned when the Vicar intoned the line "Do you, Roger Tudor Jones ...".  Eh?  Who's getting married?  We thought it was Joe?  Is it his brother?  Truth dawned.  Joe has merely been masquerading under the name of Joe for all these years.  Truth will out!!!

After the service, we gathered outside on a lawn teased out of the vertical cliff face of the valley, for drinks, cake and photos.  Then off to the hotel reception.  This entailed a scenic tour of North Wales, as the guide in the lead car, who claimed to know the way, didn't.

After the wedding, I was lucky enough to get a tour of Mid Wales.  I was with Joe's friend Keith and Keith's Mum, and Keith's knowledge of the geography of the area is limited to the canals, so he didn't recognise any of the names on the signposts.  And the only map in Keith's Mum's car was for Birmingham.  Anyway, we eventually got to The Aqueduct Pub, and started the serious business of wetting the bride and groom's heads.

This pub is in a Welsh village that has a wholly unpronounceable name, so that even the local villagers resort to calling it by the (much) shortened name of 'Fron', and which is a mere two or three hundred yards from the similarly unpronounceable Ponty-wot-not Aqueduct.

The next day, the canal side wedding was to take place at the canal turn in Fron.  Joe and his new dear lady wife Jackie were dressed in proper 'boater' style (as, indeed, Joe always is).  Jackie arrived at the appointed spot not on a washer josher, but on a proper Josher, 'Fern', which is being sensitively restored, and had had its first cruise for three years the previous day.  Joe, of course, came on his boat 'Will Crooks', which was decorated with lots of suitable bunting.  The service was conducted by the boating vicar, Ian Cardinal, with readings which included an Apache Wedding Blessing, a blessing engraved on St Patrick's breastplate, and an Irish Wedding Blessing.  (I have the words of all these, and will e-mail them to anyone who would like them.)

After all that, as tradition dictates, the Bride and Groom jumped over a nicely, spirally painted mop handle, which was supported by two gleaming Buckby cans.

After the wedding, a procession of boats crossed the Aqueduct to Trevor, and returned.

Trevor is a busy, much visited place, largely, it is suspected, because it is the only place in the area with a pronounceable and recognisable name.  (Llangollen is similar, but say it, properly, more than three times in any one week, and you are almost bound to get cancer of the throat).

On returning to the Fron side of the Aqueduct, and having lost no-one over the side, the BBQs were lit, and everyone feasted on the traditional BBQ burnt offerings.  Later, as darkness fell, we repaired to the Aqueduct Inn in Fron, where much drinking and merriment took place, not only to wish Joe 'n' Jackie well, but also - as it was Jubilee Day (June 3) - in honour of Her Maj.

Next day, I walked 10 miles - up the Llangollen Canal to Horseshoe Falls and return - and the day after that I was up early to hobble with my blisters and bags to the bus stop to catch the London bus.  Later in the day I got to Cambridge, where I spent a happy couple of hours with son Tom, before heading over to Somersham to spend a couple of days with Veronica and Bradley et tous les animaux, and to meet up with Lorna.

Then to London for a birthday lunch with sister Jenny, before getting back here to Rosy.

I've been a bit busy here, getting Rosy for cruising.  We hope to cast off on Monday morning (so long as it doesn't rain).

This is getting a bit long, so more about the preparations ...  next week!!

Toodle pip!!

Bill