The Big City

Well, that’s it – I’ve finally arrived in the big city. Not physically – I’ve been here in Greenford since Wednesday, and I got the boat through the last lock this side of Camden over a week before that. But I woke up this morning with the distinct feeling of having finally completed the journey.

Just like a Tom and Jerry cartoon, it was as if I was being extruded through the keyhole of the door to the city, having to inflate myself back to normal size so that I could pull my head through the gap with a suitable slurpy-poppy sound effect.

The process of arriving probably began in Leighton Buzzard, where I introduced myself to the crew of Angel II, from Islington. This was the first time I can definitely recall meeting people who, despite being out in the sticks, gave the impression of actually being city people at heart. It was difficult to pin down the exact nature of this, but it felt as if they had an agenda, a schedule, somewhere they needed to be and a deadline within which it all had to be achieved.

Over the past twenty-odd years, I have come to hate the city – I hate what it does to people. It is as if every activity is a time trial, to be completed against the clock for fear of being late for the following challenge, resulting in an avalanche of missed appointments and ultimate chaos. I’ve yet to see any reward for this form of behaviour, other than the mere absence of failure. I’m even writing this in a hurry, so that I can get everything done at home in time to go out tonight early enough to get back for an early start in the morning. Aaaaagh – it’s got me!!

Still, with any luck, I should be able to write something that’s actually boaty, maybe even about the good ship Universe, before too long…