Well, this town has dragged me down. Right down. And I’ve only been in it five minutes.
Picture this: get up early, slog it for six hours to make it all the way from Southall to central London, pull into Paddington Basin at 2ish (hungry of course). Realise there is only one space left in the visitor moorings. Pull into it. Get caught by cross winds of approximately 30 miles per hour. Spend twenty long, painful minutes trying to get the boat into the side and moored up. Panic. Finally succeed. Get back into boat, looking forward to a late but lovely lunch. Realise that the reason other boaters have spurned this spot is because it is right over a peculiar stream of bubbles. The noise of the bubbles under the boat makes being inside Felucca similar to standing next to the largest drill imaginable without the benefit of industrial strength ear protectors.
You think that’s bad? It’s about to get worse. I look at map only to find that there are no other visitor moorings for miles. Walk to Canal & River Trust offices to double check that this is the case. Find out it is. Exclaim loudly (once out of earshot of CRT people) that I hate London and we should go to Birmingham instead. Preferably immediately.
Lose mind quietly on the walk back to boat. Find it again after a brief search and decide it might just be possible to pull the boat back across a corner, moor at a peculiar angle away from the noxious bubbles and make the best of it. Succeed. Breathe sigh of relief. It will all be better tomorrow, once the wind drops.