Roger the cabin boy

Seems a long time ago Jill. Getting old now.Did a sequel. When he blocked the toilet up. Involved the BIG BLACK GLOVE if I remember, and his mother in laws teeth. I will see if I can find it.

This story is a repeat. Well it is Christmas. In the late 1800's, perhaps the early 1900's, there was a fishing trawler, out of Lowestoft, named The Brothers. The skipper was my grandfather, together with his brother Jack. One of the founders of the Broads industry as we know it today. Indeed, his sons followed in his footsteps, once again, The Brothers, who in turn created one of the most respected boat yards on the rivers. Sadly, no longer. The story continues, to this present day. The Brothers, are now the great grandchildren of my Grandfather still making a very valued and important contribution to the Broads industry, a contribution which would have been applauded by their father, their grandfather and my grandfather. Now for something different – a Christmas story – a true story, one which I put to paper many years ago for my children. So it is a story for children, very pertinent at the time after I looked at the enormous number of gifts which had been given to the young Dwile Flonkers and now for my own grandchildren. The story is still relevant today, in these troubled times. It took place in my Grandfathers house, Home Port, by the old railway bridge, Beccles. The Child who cried on Christmas Day. I was six years old, it was 1948. The war was over but many families would feel it's impact for many years to come. But for me and my cousins it was different, we came from a privileged background. Every Christmas the whole family stayed at Grandfather's house overlooking the marshes and the river at Beccles. My Uncles were there, having distinguished themselves in service. Indeed their experience as boatmen held them in high esteem when building pontoons across rivers in Europe, their knowledge of wind and tides, and of handling small craft in adverse conditions. Grandfather was a wealthy man, having been a trawler skipper and a Norfolk Broads boatyard owner, and one could expect, at Christmas time luxuries which today are taken for granted. He was of a short stocky build, always immaculate, dressed in a spotless white shirt together with the gurnsey that he wore and always with a wrap around his neck. The solid gold ear ring that he had in his right ear, uncommon for a man in those days, was to pay for a Christian burial should he be lost at sea. My three cousins and I loved and respected him, and, as was customary on Christmas Eve the grandchildren gathered round the Christmas tree to sing Granddad carols. He enjoyed it enormously and roared his approval. This added to our excitement, but alas it was short-lived, adults decided that we were tired. Far from it, we were entering into the spirit of the party, but with dire warnings that Father Christmas would miss us out if we did not get to bed, we reluctantly went upstairs to our rooms. Climbing between icy cold sheets, feeling the stone hot water bottle at the bottom of the bed, we awaited a spoonful of strawberry jam, with an aspro on the top! To calm us down said Aunty Elsie. The morning came. He had been! The pillow case was bulging. I ran through to tell my parents. Father groaned, "it's 5 oclock, get back to bed and go back to sleep" There was little chance of that, I scurried back to my room and tore in frenzy at the packages. It was fantastic, everything a boy could ever wish for. Later on that morning, having of course made sure that my cousins had not got anything better than me, we were told to bring all our presents into the lounge for Granddad to see. Three trips each, down the stair's with the rickety banister. And then all laid out for Granddads approval. Granddad came into the room and marveled at the selection of gifts which we proudly displayed. "You are very lucky children, I am so happy and pleased for you all", he said beaming down at us. But then he became very serious. " I would like you to listen to me, the little boy next door, his father was killed in the War and his mother cannot afford to buy him any presents, I would like to choose just one of your presents, just one, from each of you, for this little boy" We were mortified, how cruel, how unjust that we should have to give up a present. But Grandfather was unrelenting, and picked a gift from each pile. A few minutes later the little boy came into the room with his mother. He looked ill at ease, a bit frightened amongst all the strangers in the room, luxuriously furnished and decorated for Christmas, so unlike his own humble home. Grandfather took the little boys hand and led him towards the gifts, on a table, that he had selected. "There" he said, "Father Christmas has not forgotten you " He put his arms around the neck of the old fisherman, and sobbed.

Very true Clive I really must put pen to paper again one of these days.

I think that it is a Newson - of Oulton Broad. Possibly photographed on the Thames- but difficult to tell.

At the River Green. Thorpe St Andrew.

Another Norfolk wreck, an old MTB I believe. Not as impressive as illustrated on the previous page. But it certainly used to be.

I would like to come please.

Bit of a point and press man me. Got all the kit m8ty! F this F that ISO - OEV Red Eye WB P/A/S/M Wots all that about eh! Half the manual is written in goat. The other half by a dyslexic Japanese geezer. Love to come. I'll get the old nagger to sort out the correct zimmer frame for the job and I'll be with you. Hopefully we get to have a swifty livener on route. Best I think that we have a starter. A bit of a sun upper. Followed by one or two swifties at lunch time and then a sun downer, when the old sun is over the flag arm eh! Great. Oh! mustn't forget me camera. Me trusty Brownie or the dogs dangly bits. Let me know. Count me in chaps.

Part Eight The reverse manoeuvre has commenced, all is not well, but the crew rally round. The Alifred, lay peacefully at her mooring. Immaculate, Gleaming chrome rails surrounded the decks. Pennants fluttered from the aerials. An imposing ensign on the stern endorsed the boats importance. On board Mr and Mrs Entwhistle, Alice and Fred, both enjoying their customary sun downers of generous Gin and Tonics. (Indeed, old Fred also enjoyed a few sun uppers as well plus a midday swifty or two, just to keep the tonsils lubricated don't you know!!) What caused Fred to look up, we shall never know. A sixth sense perhaps. As he looked out of the starboard window he saw this vision, this apparition, of a boat careering in full reverse towards the Alifred. On the stern, a wild looking women, hair blowing in the wind, clutching a boat hook like Bodicea ready to lance the enemy. In this case the enemy was the highly painted white gloss of the Alifred. Fred started to have a bronchospasm. Alice desperately tried to find her glasses. Fred reached the foredeck. Hyperventilating. Put that ****** thing down woman You could feel a solicitor coming on. You can't moor here.......Pal! You had the distinct feeling that he was not your Pal In fact you could hardly imagine him ever being your Pal And then a miraculous thing happened. One of the fenders on Tranquil Moments snagged a rope attached to a mud weight. (hirers like to put mud weights down at ever possible opportunity a feel good factor) The boat slowed and slew to rest, inches from the gleaming paint work. And then the true camaraderie of the Broads came to the fore. Willing hands assisted in the task of mooring the boat having of course been advised to turn off the engine. Thanks a lot you guy's, must have been the wind that caught me There was no wind Come on inside Darling and have a nice drink With shaking hands you gulp down a large Bells whisky. After what you hoped was an appropriate period of time you decide to venture out of the stern door. Fred was lying down in a darkened room The chap next door seemed friendly enough. Hi mate how are you doing? Oh hello! A bit frazzled I'm afraid Don't worry about it. We've all been there In no time at all other people gathered round to pontificate on the days events. It was looking good. After an enjoyable meal, the first day was coming to a close. The children were put to bed, exhausted they soon fell asleep. Mafeking, because of a rather unpleasant nocturnal condition, was placed in the middle of the boat, with the doors shut, and a window left open. And so to bed. You both snuggle down the duvet. Gerald Darling was whispered in your ear. You can't help thinking that it sounds promising. Yes dear The bottom of the bed is soaking wet! In the still of the night, a Barn Owl hooted it's haunting cry, a distant cluck of a nervous Coot, the sound of water gently lapping against the hull, and, like a metronome, the steady relentless, muffled sound, of condensation dripping from the window onto the duvet. Daaad! What now? I'm frightened! THE END .............................for the time being.

Part Seven The family has been on the boat for a few hours, with one or two little mishaps. The trip across Barton was enjoyed by all. Indeed there was an air of confidence, of wellbeing, as a map was produced and all agreed that Gays Staithe would be an admirable place to stay for the first night. Tranquil Moments glided majestically towards the entrance of the staithe, the sight that met them was truly magical. Gaily painted boats were moored stern on against the bank, the green grass was host to children playing, one or two people were fishing from the front of their boats. What was not quite so magical was the fact that it seemed full up! Are we going to stop here Dad Not enough room I'm afraid, we are going to have to try somewhere else. Well, we must do something darling, Mafeking is desperate Yes dear (ever the obedient husband) Wait, look, there is a space, right at the end, next to the white boat with all the aerials sticking up I can't go down there, it will mean it will mean, I have to reverse it. Oh don't be so pathetic, I'll help you Yes dear There is one thing that you have been able to do, must have been a gift!! You always seem to be able to turn the beastie round. This evening was no exception, without any drama the manoeuvre was carried out impeccably. At least the stern was pointing in the right direction. At this point it is worth mentioning a phenomena, recognised by anybody who has hired a boat, owned a boat, lives or works on the Norfolk Broads, the phenomena is known as the Reverse Syndrome. It afflicts in the main, the holidaymaker, and of course the first time boater, although it has to be said, it can last for more than one season. It manifests itself during a period of acute distress, when everything defies principles, that guide reasoning, within a given situation. The Reverse Syndrome is where the person at the helm presupposes that to reverse a boat, one needs to apply maximum revs in both the forward and reverse gears. The gear lever lends itself admirably to this task enabling the driver of the craft to change from forward to reverse at full speed, in one swift movement in fact you can alternate between the two in rapid succession, several times during the operation. Reversing also requires a degree of multi tasking, the head must swivel round repeatedly in order to ascertain if the objective has been realised, and the steering wheel must be rotated from one lock to the other in several rapid movements in an endeavour to direct the blunt end towards its goal. Right dear lets go for it You turn the wheel over onto the right hand lock and put the boat into full reverse. Perky roars with delight. The boat goes backwards in a straight line heading for the bank. Stop! Stop You slam the boat into forward gear. The stern scythes round in a complete ark. Marvellous, absolutely bloody fantastic. You are pointing down the dyke. Unfortunately, the wrong way round. By this time, ducks and coots have reached the sanctuary of the bushes on the far bank. Mothers have called their children from play. Curtains twitch. Men emerge from the stern of their boats, clutching glasses of Chardonnay and Jacobs Creek Shiraz. They stand sullenly. A chorus of advice in strange dialects, comes across the water. Put it in reverse mate Go forward Sling me a rope Turn the wheel the other way You feel somewhat inadequate. At last you manage to turn the boat around “ again. This time more by luck than judgement, the stern is situated, more or less in the direction intended. Full into reverse again, the boat, at warp factor 3, proceeds down the dyke. A well placed foot kicks your stern away from the bows of the third cruiser. By this time Mrs P has decided that her contribution would be best made at the most vulnerable part of the boat. The stern. To assist in this onerous duty, she frantically shouts instructions. Go left No go right FORWARD All to no avail. Desperately she looks for a solution to the dilemma. And then she finds it. The very thing. THE BOAT HOOK! To be continued.........................

Part Six A pleasant tea has been enjoyed, now to find a mooring for the first night. OK boys, undo the ropes we must be away The boys scamper to the allotted task. You turn the key. Perky rocks and vibrates. You turn the key again, and again. Nothing happens. Perky seems to be getting weaker and weaker. You start to drift imperceptibly towards the centre of the river. It won't start You try again. Perky, by this time sounds distinctly asthmatic. Darling what can we do I know, lets look at the weed filter (the only positive thing that you can think off) That does not cure the problem, there is only one thing for it. To ring the boatyard. Hello, Jolly Boating, Daphne speaking, how can I help you (don't you need a Daphne at a time like this) It's Mr Pearson here, the boat won't start! The boat won't start? (What is it about the boat won't start that she doesn't understand) Wait a minute I'll pass you over to George A mature and calm voice answers. Hello Mr Pearson, where are you Dunno Do the lights work Er yes Is the engine turning Yes Have you pushed the stop button back in The what button? The button you pulled to stop the engine Er! I'll check You find that indeed the button has not been pushed in, turning the key, Perky roars into life. That's it “ it works “ thank you. Bye. The anxiety etched upon the faces of the crew disappears as you proceed down river. Mummy, is Daddy cross No, of course not Darling Why has he got a red face then? Some will say that it is a brave hirer who attempts a stern on mooring on the first day, others that it is irresponsible. The next, episode follows.......... the mooring at Gays Staithe

Stevie: I am so glad that you have enjoyed my little tale. from a personal point of view, I have really enjoyed writing it. When you do these things, you sometimes wonder if other people think that it is a load of rubbish. That would be the worst.

Part Five The Trial Run has finished The Maiden Voyage for the family has just started. After about two minutes you realise that your boat has all the handling characteristics of a super market shopping trolley. You turn to the left, to the right, to the left. It refuses to go straight. No matter what you do the thing has a mind of it's own. You desperately battle with the wheel as the boat zigzags down the River Ant. A large branch, hanging over the river looms into your vision, frantically you turn the wheel, you just cannot believe that you have managed to miss it. You didn't, a resounding crash from the blunt end says otherwise. Dad, Dad WHAT! We've lost the mop give me strength It's Ok Dad, it's fallen onto the back This trauma seems to have the desired effect bit like a cure for hiccups. You find to your amazement that the boat steers perfectly well without constantly turning the wheel. The crew, and more importantly yourself, start to settle down. After about ten minutes of calm, it is decided that a stop for a cup of tea would be good. That looks a nice place to moor No problem, I'll get in as close as I can and you can tie her up The boat closes in on the bank. Right, jump, go on jump The boat hits the bank and bounces away from the bank about three feet. Tie it up then What with? The Rope What Rope Quick you boys throw your Mother a rope Daaaaaaaaaaaad it's fallen in the water Where's your Mother? On the bank A wave of nausea descends at the thought of a week of one disaster after another. They were not made for boating a caravan would have been ideal. More appropriate. A static one would be good. You manage to turn the boat round and jam the bows into the bank at last the bows are secured. Hurry, hurry, the back end is coming out Mother just mangers to catch the last four inches of the stern rope. Whew! That was exciting. Get the kettle on Mother The kettle soon boils and the crew gathers round the wobbly table with one leg shorter that the other. Mother dutifully pores the tea from an incontinent tea pot which drips over simply everything. Soon you are munching into chocolate covered Hob Nobs. Life is good. A little Coot, ever the opportunist, bobs its way towards you. Can I feed the ducks Dad Of course you can Authors note Contrary to popular belief (and Bill Oddie) there are only three types of bird to be found on the Norfolk Broads. LBJ's, the BBJ's and the Duck. The LBJ's are little brown jobbies. The BBJ's are big brown jobbies. Ducks are things that float on the water. They come in various sizes, and the big ones are called geese. Some people call ducks Mallard's. Mallard's are easy to recognise. (a) They eat copious quantities of bread. ( They quack a lot. © They spend an inordinate amount of time engaged in an activity, which for the sake of those of young and tender years, is best described by saying I think they are having a little squabble darling This should avoid a long and drawn out discussion on the matter. Another endearing quality of the Mallard is that it likes to prance about on the roof of your cruiser.at four o'clock in the morning. To be continued...............

Jonny Pleased that you have enjoyed. Roger

Part Four Darren, having completed the tour of the inside of the boat is ready to go down river as the final part of the trial run. Darren expertly manoeuvred the boat out of the mooring and nonchalantly stood at the wheel. You keep to the right hand side of the river and remember to keep the revs down “ now if you'd like to have a go You hang onto the wheel as if you were on a white knuckle ride. Very good “ just ease it to the left a bit, not too much. Now to the right a bit. Thankfully the river is straight at this bit. You progress down river, with Darren offering words of comfort. Now I'll show you how to turn the boat round. No, stay at the wheel and I will talk you through it Slow down, a little more reverse, that's it. Turn the wheel over to the right. Now, gently push the throttle forward “ can you see the stern coming round You daren't look. Now a bit in reverse “ not to much “ we don't want to hit the bank do we? Ha! Ha! Ha!“ and now forward. There we are we've done it. You bristle with pride, you cannot believe how easy and how professionally you achieved that which looked impossible. (You will remember this moment at St Olaves a few days later!) Before you knew it you were back at the boat yard where Darren showed you how to moor side on to the bank. If you would like to turn the engine off, sign the completion form and away you can go You turn the engine off Perky continues to burble contentedly. Er, how do you stop it? Oh, sorry, I'll show you, Follow me You follow Darren into the middle cabin whereupon he pulls at a button on the side of the wall. Perky gasps, stops, starts again and then with a shudder all is quite and still. The form is signed. Right then I'll cast you off Darren starts the engine, jumps off the boat, and unties the ropes fore and aft. He pushes the bows out with his foot. Have a nice time We will, we will. Byeeeeeeee. You push the throttle forward. Perky builds up the revs. The boat doesn't move an inch. A bit more revs. Soon Perky is wailing like a banshee. NO, I don't want a beer Darling, Darren said Put it in gear Oh! The boat lurches forward, just missing the moored boat in front, the stern gives the side a resounding thump. Well at least it straightened the boat up. You wrestle with the wheel, trying to save some composure. SLOW DOWN YOU b*$T>d, Woolly Hat, attired in a disgusting overall, emerges from his boat clutching a paint brush. His lap, embraced a large puddle of black paint - a sporran of thick viscous foul smelling anti foul. You duly oblige,legs shaking, you proceed down the river - slowly. "Daddy, Daddy - what is a Bustard? "It's a bird - now shut up and help your mother. To be continued