Canal rage

Claydon Top Lock, 2pm, Sunday 6th August 2006

Ownerships boat Black Swan, wasn't best pleased with me this afternoon, and the steerer turned apoplectic with rage.  They are welcome to add this photograph to their 'Out & About' picture gallery! 

Claydon Locks were extremely busy, with many more boats wanting to descend than ascend, and there was a bit of a queue all the way down the locks.  I was coming up, and being single-handed was happy to leave the winding and lock gate operation to boaters coming down.  I rather enjoy lock operation, but when I'm alone on my boat it's quicker for everyone if the others do it. 

The Black Swan gals quickly and automatically swung into operation anyway, and after closing one of the lower gates myself I let them work the rest of it.  (I felt they were a bit uncommunicative and brusque to me straight off, but I let it pass - friendliness is a 2-way street after all, and perhaps I seemed the same way to them).

As the boat was rising (and was steady in the lock) I quickly nipped out to say thanks to Jane Selkirk, who lives in the lock cottage, but who is moving soon.  She painted the ice bucket for me in March, and I never got a chance to thank here. 

It didn't take long for her to nip out and we chatted in friendly fashion (and I took a quick photo of her holding her work).  The gate opened and I went out, still chatting animatedly to Jane. 

Just as I left the top gates, I heard one of the women shout sarcastically "DON'T BOTHER TO SAY THANK-YOU THEN!" 

Oops, I was so engrossed that I'd just got on with getting out of the lock.  To be honest, I didn't really need the help, but they'd seemed happy to do it all (as I am when I'm in that position - I love the exercise).  So I turned around and said 'Oh dear, sorry, thank you', and smiled meekly in embarassment.   "TWO WORDS!  TWO WORDS!", one of them shouted, looking thunder. 

Oh, just ignore them, mouthed a smiling Jane.

As  I passed Black Swan I called out "Can you tell the two ladies I'm very sorry for not saying thank you, I was just trying to thank the lady in the cottage for doing some work for me earlier..."

I didn't get a chance to finish my sentence.  He shouted back "NO I WILL NOT!  YOU ARE THE MOST SELFISH, THOUGHTLESS F****** LITTLE BASTARD I'VE EVER COME ACROSS IN TWENTY-FIVE YEARS ON THE CANALS!"

So, that told me then.  I was so startled that I said nothing, but in surprise I whipped out my camera and photographed his thund'rous face.  That startled him in return, and he replied with an evocative V-sign, which he kindly held long enough for me to capture.

I have to say I found his rage quite upsetting, and as soon as I set off I wrote down his diatribe in my notebook to keep it fresh in my mind.  I stopped shortly afterwards to have a stiff drink.  I think I'll be a little more careful around Ownerships boats in future.

Later in the evening I cycled back along the towpath later to pick up my car, and came acrosss the 'Mucky Duck', by now moored.  The Black Cob himself was on deck, and I said hello, and handed him a www.grannybuttons.com visiting card.  He seemed not to recognise me and was a bit bemused at a stranger on a bike stopping and giving him a business card.   And he said he couldn't read it and that he'd get his reading specs.  I said "Well, nice to meet you" and smiled, and shot off before he could find them.

Incidentally, I was glad to see Mr Black-mood Swan use two fingers. Good for him!  The two-finger sign is like the red squirrel, it's in danger of being overwhelmed and even wiped out by that recent American import, the single finger.

Canal rage is a noted phenomenon.  A case happened a few months ago on the Grand Union's Stockton flight, when an irate boater (probably with 25 years' experience on the canals) assaulted a man on a hireboat just ahead of him, putting him in hospital. People do get in a lather too soon, long before they know the facts or are unwilling to weigh them. 

But I've generated a bit of canal rage in my time too, shamefully.  I remember four years ago at Braunston Bottom Lock, giving a lady an earful of bile because she shut the gates of an empty lock against me because she didn't bother to look and didn't pay any attention to my horn.  (I was literally only a boat's length away and about to go in when she slammed the gate and refilled the lock.)

We didn't trade insults but we did trade anger.  One of the problems of talking between boats is that you have to shout to make yourself heard, and thus does the temperature rise.  You can't sound friendly when you shout.