hlb
RIP
It wont let me post it all at once, so we'll start with.
Tales Of THe River Bank.
From Norman Wyate.
On UK Waterways.com, there is a page for boaters to write about their journeys on the water. The majority of them being narrowboat voyages.
Is there a similar site for non-narrowboat owners?
But Norman, theres loads of tales of harrowing voyages on here, as you well know. Heres one we did earlier.
Just then, as Mole sat down to admire his handiwork, a large motorboat rumbled by, close to the edge of the bank, smashing everything, and a big bloke leaned over and harpooned him with a spear gun.
The end
Post Extras:
hlb
(regular)
Thu Nov 29 07:39:50 2001
Re: Tales from the riverbank [re: matts] Edit Post Reply
Mole looked up with a sly grin. The harpoon had parted his hair and stuck in the lock gate behind him. The rope snaking and rapping round the big blokes leg. This would have been fine had he not just hailed tut-th-wife. " Ey luve, back thi sen up a tuch". Now th-wife who was a hod carrier in the treacle mine at Sabden, was having the weekend off.
She glared back at her husband with a toothy smile. ( Except her teeth had fallen out when he smacked her, and were now lying all over the floor. )
She put one big mit on tut throttles. and then with a mighty roar. Th engines spluttered and farted and th-prop shafts start wizzing round backerds. Causing the boat to go awfull slow. Then the boat starts goin backerds and its picking up quite of a lick and the ropes goin tighter and tighter, round th-big blokes knobley knee's.--------Please carry on?
Haydn
Post Extras:
matts
(regular)
Thu Nov 29 09:39:35 2001
Re: Tales from the riverbank [re: hlb] Post Reply
The big bloke with knobbly knees began flailing around try to catch hold of something. But unfortunately the strongest of the deck fittings (the flower pot nailed to the table) was out of reach. Just atthat moment the kettle started boling, so Tut was forced to go downstairs to make a pot of tea.
The situation was getting desperate. It seemed that the teabags were in the wrong cupboard. Or had they run out of teabags? Surely not. Tut checked all the cupboards, and briefly considered re-using an old teabag, but dismissed the idea from her mind. At last she found the teabags, and with a huge sigh of relief put two of them in the pot having first swilled it round with hot water in regulation fashion.
Back on deck, things were getting worse. The big bloke with knobbly knees and the rope leg wrapped round his leg an into the lock was beginning to realise that he hadn't had a cup of tea for almost a quarter of an hour. Or even a biscuit. At last, Tut brought the freshly-made tea back up on deck. The boat was still trying to move back, but all the time the rop round his leg was get tangled up in things like ropes do, or even one of the knot things that make you wonder why anyone loops ropes up into neat coils. As the lock got closer, Tut turned the radar on: the power drawn from the massive radar immediately drained the entire electrical system, so the engine stalled. Even so, the lock was drawing closer with all the tangling. The lock gates began to close around them. Tut and her husband looked at each other in horror as the realised that they had picked up the wrong cups, as his had only 4 spoonfuls of sugar in and hers had the 6 spoonfuls.
Post Extras:
ccscott49
(regular)
Thu Nov 29 09:57:35 2001
Re: Tales from the riverbank [re: matts] Post Reply
Think Matts has lost it! anybody for a leopard!
Post Extras:
hlb
(regular)
Thu Nov 29 10:03:26 2001
Re: Tales from the riverbank [re: matts] Edit Post Reply
Now Colin.
The big fat bloke with Knobbly Knees.
Spat the tea out angrily,
he'd got quite a temper on.
The rope that had rapped round his leg, had cut them off. Just above the knee.
So he's groveling around on the floor,
trying to catch th-wife for his tea.
The force ont lock gates were tremendus and so with a great big creek.
The lock gate fell off, in the water.
And the mole had a great big freet!
Well. Then alt water, came gushing, and spilling all over the place.
And th mole were swimin like buggery, just to get outa the place.
Mean while poor Colin -----------------
Haydn
Post Extras:
ccscott49
(regular)
Thu Nov 29 10:05:02 2001
Re: Tales from the riverbank [re: hlb] Post Reply
Poor bloody mole! Moles cant swim!
Post Extras:
matts
(regular)
Thu Nov 29 10:18:11 2001
Re: Tales from the riverbank [re: hlb] Post Reply
Meanwhile poor Colin was trying to pretend to all the people watching the lock that this was all normal. He stemmed the gushing blood from his legs with some nice napkins, and neatly stowed the snapped off pieces of leg in a deck locker, and made an extra note of the list of things in each locker.
His wife was now becoming hysterical. "You've used the Sunday doilies, for crissakes! Today is Saturday! Now what?!!"
Colin's boat was now heading downstream at speed - noticeably moving, perhaps even at a slow walk. With the lock gate attached and at last with the right cup of tea, he could take stock of things. His wife Tut jumped back on board having nipped to the shops to buy some more doilies and get back to the boat as it moved at least thirty yards downriver, attached to the lock gate originally tied on to colin leg, but now firmly attached to the flower pot with a round turn, several half hitches and a purple clothes peg plus a few more knots. The lock gate made an ideal river craft, with a low draft, and very sturdy. Colin called the lock keeper and asked if he might consider a part exchange of his boat for the floating lock gate. The lockkeper laughed, and toldim that the lock gate was quite expensive....
Tales Of THe River Bank.
From Norman Wyate.
On UK Waterways.com, there is a page for boaters to write about their journeys on the water. The majority of them being narrowboat voyages.
Is there a similar site for non-narrowboat owners?
But Norman, theres loads of tales of harrowing voyages on here, as you well know. Heres one we did earlier.
Just then, as Mole sat down to admire his handiwork, a large motorboat rumbled by, close to the edge of the bank, smashing everything, and a big bloke leaned over and harpooned him with a spear gun.
The end
Post Extras:
hlb
(regular)
Thu Nov 29 07:39:50 2001
Re: Tales from the riverbank [re: matts] Edit Post Reply
Mole looked up with a sly grin. The harpoon had parted his hair and stuck in the lock gate behind him. The rope snaking and rapping round the big blokes leg. This would have been fine had he not just hailed tut-th-wife. " Ey luve, back thi sen up a tuch". Now th-wife who was a hod carrier in the treacle mine at Sabden, was having the weekend off.
She glared back at her husband with a toothy smile. ( Except her teeth had fallen out when he smacked her, and were now lying all over the floor. )
She put one big mit on tut throttles. and then with a mighty roar. Th engines spluttered and farted and th-prop shafts start wizzing round backerds. Causing the boat to go awfull slow. Then the boat starts goin backerds and its picking up quite of a lick and the ropes goin tighter and tighter, round th-big blokes knobley knee's.--------Please carry on?
Haydn
Post Extras:
matts
(regular)
Thu Nov 29 09:39:35 2001
Re: Tales from the riverbank [re: hlb] Post Reply
The big bloke with knobbly knees began flailing around try to catch hold of something. But unfortunately the strongest of the deck fittings (the flower pot nailed to the table) was out of reach. Just atthat moment the kettle started boling, so Tut was forced to go downstairs to make a pot of tea.
The situation was getting desperate. It seemed that the teabags were in the wrong cupboard. Or had they run out of teabags? Surely not. Tut checked all the cupboards, and briefly considered re-using an old teabag, but dismissed the idea from her mind. At last she found the teabags, and with a huge sigh of relief put two of them in the pot having first swilled it round with hot water in regulation fashion.
Back on deck, things were getting worse. The big bloke with knobbly knees and the rope leg wrapped round his leg an into the lock was beginning to realise that he hadn't had a cup of tea for almost a quarter of an hour. Or even a biscuit. At last, Tut brought the freshly-made tea back up on deck. The boat was still trying to move back, but all the time the rop round his leg was get tangled up in things like ropes do, or even one of the knot things that make you wonder why anyone loops ropes up into neat coils. As the lock got closer, Tut turned the radar on: the power drawn from the massive radar immediately drained the entire electrical system, so the engine stalled. Even so, the lock was drawing closer with all the tangling. The lock gates began to close around them. Tut and her husband looked at each other in horror as the realised that they had picked up the wrong cups, as his had only 4 spoonfuls of sugar in and hers had the 6 spoonfuls.
Post Extras:
ccscott49
(regular)
Thu Nov 29 09:57:35 2001
Re: Tales from the riverbank [re: matts] Post Reply
Think Matts has lost it! anybody for a leopard!
Post Extras:
hlb
(regular)
Thu Nov 29 10:03:26 2001
Re: Tales from the riverbank [re: matts] Edit Post Reply
Now Colin.
The big fat bloke with Knobbly Knees.
Spat the tea out angrily,
he'd got quite a temper on.
The rope that had rapped round his leg, had cut them off. Just above the knee.
So he's groveling around on the floor,
trying to catch th-wife for his tea.
The force ont lock gates were tremendus and so with a great big creek.
The lock gate fell off, in the water.
And the mole had a great big freet!
Well. Then alt water, came gushing, and spilling all over the place.
And th mole were swimin like buggery, just to get outa the place.
Mean while poor Colin -----------------
Haydn
Post Extras:
ccscott49
(regular)
Thu Nov 29 10:05:02 2001
Re: Tales from the riverbank [re: hlb] Post Reply
Poor bloody mole! Moles cant swim!
Post Extras:
matts
(regular)
Thu Nov 29 10:18:11 2001
Re: Tales from the riverbank [re: hlb] Post Reply
Meanwhile poor Colin was trying to pretend to all the people watching the lock that this was all normal. He stemmed the gushing blood from his legs with some nice napkins, and neatly stowed the snapped off pieces of leg in a deck locker, and made an extra note of the list of things in each locker.
His wife was now becoming hysterical. "You've used the Sunday doilies, for crissakes! Today is Saturday! Now what?!!"
Colin's boat was now heading downstream at speed - noticeably moving, perhaps even at a slow walk. With the lock gate attached and at last with the right cup of tea, he could take stock of things. His wife Tut jumped back on board having nipped to the shops to buy some more doilies and get back to the boat as it moved at least thirty yards downriver, attached to the lock gate originally tied on to colin leg, but now firmly attached to the flower pot with a round turn, several half hitches and a purple clothes peg plus a few more knots. The lock gate made an ideal river craft, with a low draft, and very sturdy. Colin called the lock keeper and asked if he might consider a part exchange of his boat for the floating lock gate. The lockkeper laughed, and toldim that the lock gate was quite expensive....
Last edited:
