A conversation earlier this eveningfrimfram
: Do you know the Fort St George?hesadevil
: We have eaten there many times and oft' and moored up for the night outside. I have a lovely story to tell about a particularly exciting night that involves two men in firemen's helmets, a rope and a calf. frimfram
said I couldn’t leave it there, so – here’s the story.
We’d enjoyed a lovely meal, drunk rather a lot of very good wine with it (those were the days before I developed an allergy) and had settled in our respective bunks for the night. MWNN
snores for Ireland – and England and Scotland and Wales, he’s the British Lions’ top scoring can raise the dead with the decibels
snorer-in-chief – so our bunks are at opposite ends of our 45 foot narrowboat. On board were our two German Shepherds who worked strictly to union rules; they adopted the European 35 hour working week before we ever signed up to the Charter of human(e) rights. Lights out for them was 7pm, after their evening consistutional. But I digress – we were all tucked up for the night and sound asleep by 11pm.
It’s a clear night in late spring/early summer. The sky is full of stars and there is a sliver of a moon. All is peaceful, the stillness broken only by the occasional thunk
on the underside of the boat as a fish without sonar does an impression of a head-banger on the steel. Suddenly, the peace is shattered by an almighty pounding on the window immediately opposite my bunk on the starboard side. I grope my way to it and peer through the crack in the curtains. My eyes are blinded by a light shining directly into them; it’s a lamp suspended in mid air. As my sight adjusts, I can see a pair of eyes beneath the source of the glare which I recognise as being part of a fireman’s helmet.“I must be dreaming,”
I think and turn back towards my bed.
A second bout of banging forces me to recognise that this is no dream. I look out again and this time can clearly see two firemen, hatchets in hand and ropes slung across their bodies, staring at the window. I wake MWNN
“There’s two men in firemen's helmets with axes outside the window,” I yell.
“You’re hallucinating, woman, I told you not to have that third glass,” is his grumpy reply. “Go back to sleep!”
I peer through the window again. One of the firemen is clambering along the gunwales, making his way towards the bow, while the other is walking along the towpath towards the stern, axe in hand.
“Not drunk, no hallucinations. One of them’s heading for your end of the boat – and he’s carrying an axe.”MWNN
leaps from his bunk, pulls on some clothes and raises the hatch. I can hear him conversing with the man on the back deck but can't make out whatis being said. Meanwhile, the second fireman is clattering across the bow and onto the port gunwale, (*hums 'There's firemen on the starboard bow, starboard bow . . .*) causing the boat to rock. An almighty thrashing and splashing from the Cam adds to the assault on my equilibrium and I begin to feel distinctly seasick. Too much wine, I really shouldn't have had that third glass.
Fearing that the emergency
involved a threat to someone’s life, I throw on a dressing gown, open the bow door and step into the front well. The fireman is now walking along the gunwales with a rope in his hand. On the other end of the rope, in the water beside the boat, a calf is being guided towards the stern towards the second fireman.
'I’ve heard of water therapy for horses, but didn’t think it would be applied to cattle, particularly night-time training. Maybe the Cam’s too busy to do it during the day?'
was right first time, I must
be drunk to have thought that.'
End of drama – And the story behind it? The calf had fallen in, couldn’t get out, the fire brigade had been called out to help and were roping it
along to a spot where there was a launching ramp.
What was memorable was not that it happened and our narrowboat just happened to be in the way; no – it was the two Shepherds sleeping through the whole episode without so much as twitching a whisker or raising an eyebrow.
Working to Rule indeed.,