I don’t know about superstitions nor nuffink, but the re-naming deed was done while the wee beastie was in dry dock, out of the water. Mr Neptune may be confused, especially if he is in the canals, but he won’t be angry.
The ceremony is still going on really, since I’ll only pour a cold pint of Krug Grande Cuvee over the bow when I physically and permanently add the new name with a brush and some of Humbrol’s finest.
Why Cardinal Wolsey?
I have no idea, but it’s not “Bide-a-Wee” or “Dun-a-Roman” [sic] for one thing. I like the feel and sound of it. It sounds 2mph stately, it sounds English and, by the standards and norms of his day, Wolsey wasn’t a total bastard. He started from nothing (a real nothing, not like Mr Branson’s £50,000 at nineteen-sixties values plus free use of a central London house from Grandma idea of “nothing”). Wolsey clawed his way up, did some neat things like tackle land enclosures, bought grain to sell at cheap rates to alleviate famine, tried (and sadly failed) to rein in his own church’s power, commissioned some nice buildings – and altered the tax system to clobber the really rich instead of the mildly well-off. From very humble beginnings he rose to be almost as powerful as Henery the VIIIth, and then fell from power in a screaming spitfire-dive.
Cardinal Wolsey (the boat, not the human) has been moved to temporary marina moorings and given an initial hug. In honour of the blustery nature of the day we mostly moved backwards or sideways. Nelson would have been proud of us.
T’adventure begins. All aboard the Cardinal. Chocks away, full steam ahead and don’t spare the horses. Um, the oars, don’t spare the oars. We don’t actually have any oars. Alright, chocks away and let’s be ultra-nice to the reet gradely Isuzu diesel. As soon as air traffic control puts the station signal to green. Mirror, signal, manoeuvre. Giddy-up, Neddy.
Do I still need a chap walking ahead of us on the canal with a red flag?
Quick chorus of we’ll keep the red flag flying, anyone?
I need to sing to take my mind off things.
At the moment I am sitting in Lincolnshire wondering how Cardinal Wolsey is doing in Cheshire in all of this wind…
Safely in a marina for the moment.
Too far away to nip over and check this evening.
Separation anxiety, already.
Full-time aboard, soon enough though.