I went to visit the boatman yesterday. He’s moored up in Runnymede, (out near Windsor, where they signed the Magna Carta, you remember, surely?). I didn’t want to visit, no-one does, but I needed some ‘work done’. And in a former life, Mr Boat-person (not presuming nuffink), before he became aquatic, ran garages. For cars. And I needed a job doing on my mid-life-crisis, and a thirty mile blast round the motorways seemed like a good way of getting it done. Although you don’t so much ‘blast’ round the M25 as… stumble?, agonise?, crierch??, though really it wasn’t too bad.

And the job was: change the number plates. Which, I admit, in a little car park down by the river, looks a little on the dodgy side. But it was legal. They’re my ‘vanity plates’. Well, actually, and obviously, they’re Mel’s. But I want her name on my car for all to see. So they’ll know the love, the contentment, the happiness of our life together. And if I get flashed for speeding, (which I probably did on the way home), they’ll think it’s her.

And by then it had even stopped raining. Then the sun shone on the world. And all was wonderful! Except I was busy changing the details on my insurance, really quickly. It only takes ten minutes but if the car was nicked during those 10 minutes I wouldn’t know how to report it. And that cost £5.50. ‘Admin fee’. I thought it meant they were going to pay me as I was the one who did it, but turns out I had to pay them. For… well, ‘ad-min, innit?’ Then last but not least, I had to go to the DVLA and ‘put’ the number on the car. Then, and only then, could I enjoy life on the river.

Which started with shooting an empty beer can on the shore with an air pistol because… it deserved it? Or just because; ‘why not’? Lunch was in a local pub, right on the river, The Bells of Ousley. Lovely place. Now a ‘Harvester’. And as harvest brings to mind fields of wheat, ripened apples coming off trees, digging potatoes out of the ground… we had the ‘vegan special’. Which, in a Harvester, consists of meat. And more meat. Then more meat. Oh, and a few eggs. But even they had meat underneath them. Even the ‘salad bar’ in a Harvester is meat. The ‘vegan’ bit was the chips and onion rings. And you need both because… because you do. That was two of our ‘five a day’ right there. All nicely fried.

It was wonderful. I’d eat it every day, though if I did I probably wouldn’t have many more ‘every days’ left.

Then I drove back on surprisingly empty roads, top down, sun (ok, and a bit of wind) on my face, trying to keep the speed down even though I had the reassurance that Mel would take the hit if I got caught.

Happy Saturday

A xxxx