The Rain-Dance Kid #narrowboat #boating #boatsthattweet

Surrounded by Hoorays again.

Got a minor giggle yestereve.

My bed-time is not the bed-time of Hooray-World, but then their Rise-&-Shine time is not the time of my world either. Early to bed, early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise as boring as Hell.

As part of my preparations for climbing the wooden staircase to Bedfordshire yesterday evening I wandered, as is my wont, out onto the rear deck and thereupon I did inspect the sky and the clouds therein for some five or ten. What may I say, except that it is part of my routine. Hamsters take a few final minutes on their wheel, I look at the sky – when it’s interesting.

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The Hoorays all about were barbecuing the small animals that appear at twilight, and quaffing buckets of chilled Blue Nun (each bucket topped with a little paper umbrella). They watched me watching the clouds.

I had my fill of the sky, put the rear tonneau cover on the Cardinal and retired indoors.

Two minutes later I could hear the hiss of barbecues being extinguished by the rain, and of panic ensuing – Gerald, darling, do at least try to save the vol-au-vents!

Given that – if they thought anything at all (unlikely) – they would hardly imagine someone going to beddy-byes at that hour they are likely to have concluded that this scruffy old mutt came out, inspected the clouds, determined that rain was imminent and took ameliorative action.

They probably think that I earn my living finding water with a bent twig, and/or by brandishing bewildered, boggle-eyed, bleeding hens over a farmer’s flock to ensure a healthy and prosperous lambing season. The sort of chap one sometimes meets in the uncivilised countryside who, when asked for directions, mutters about how you can’t get to there from ‘ere, you’ve got to go somewhere else first and even then it’s impossible unless the hedgerows have been trimmed.

😉

The Meteorologicaloffice reckons that there’s more torrents on the way at Noon today.

If the Hoorays are still around in any number I’ll woad up, go outside at about five-to noon and do a little dance, waving my diesel-dipping (fuel gauge) stick at the sky.

If it works I’ll be a legend.

Of course, there’s just the smallest smidgen of a chance that I’ll just look like a complete screaming nutcase…

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But I do think that the sky is working up to something. It’s gone all muggy-hot and nasty again, and the clouds just can’t keep themselves in or even agree on any one formation.

On another note, I spotted one of CaRT’s spotters spotting me and my boat this morning. By my reckoning that makes their past three spottings of me all on the Trent & Mersey, and within, as far as may be determined by an amateur armed only with the interwebnets, some 10.5633103 miles distance. This in spite of our ca-ruising up and down like a demented, directionally-confused, boat-shaped steel glacier, and throwing ourselves up and down the Anderton Boat Lift this month and briefly onto the (‘orrible) River Weaver mid-stream.

Am I to have another problem with them and be on the receiving end of another of their “passive-aggressive” ‘have you forgotten to cruise’ emails? I do hope not.

If so then I may feel obliged to visit all of their offices in turn, and to do my very best worst rain dance outside, calling upon them water sufficient to overwhelm their gutters.

Don’t make me do it. You know that I can and I will.

🙂

Right. Chin-chin, chaps, for the moment.

Ian H., Cloudbuster.

12 Comments

  1. I hope that you positively enjoyed hearing the hissing as the rain snuffed out the barbeques!

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  2. If your efforts fail I suggest you contact Rob Mckenna and invite him round for tea. He is guaranteed to produce the rain you may find useful. He may be contacted by perusing, “So long and thanks for all the fish.”

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    1. Ah – twenty-six minutes past noon and we had rain (I must have been doing a slow-dance without realising it). 😉 I am a legend – folk for yards and yards around now know me, know my reputation and fear me…

      Look at Hutson, they say – he’s wet behind the ears. Yes indeed he is, but it’s from rain that _he_ made!

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  3. It’s all grist to the mill, or in this case water mill. I think I’m on the cusp of this again, just hammered for a couple of minutes when they reckoned we’d get one month’s rain in three hours – how do they estimate that?

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    1. I think that they throw some old bones into the air and interpret how they land…

      There’s me declaring that the clouds can’t agree on a formation – well now they have. One big, solid, mid-grey cloud that stretches from horizon to horizon! Hot and muggier than ever. What splendid pole-flipping, Grand Solar Minimum weather! I blame the dinosaurs.

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      1. Hi Ian too late for that Southern Water already texted everybody to warn them to save water… and yes it was just as the heavens opened down here in Kent!

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