It was during a long wait at Billing Aquadrome that some girls started to wash their hair, returning to the sitting out wells with towels done up as turbans. But before long this interest had spread, and some were now washing boys’ hair. All the boys seemed (to me) to be tall, broad-shouldered and handsome, and I could well understand why some girls might want to get their hands on them! Naturally, the boys had to take their shirts off first. I wasn’t sure whether to be plain envious or to feel critical and puritanical – after all, I was the Spanish Inquisition, to ensure that things were kept morally ship-shape!
camping boats at the River Nene locks, en route to Billing Aquadrome
Later the following day, I was enjoying my evening meal alone, using the galley hatch as a table top – when I saw bikini-clad Ingrid (for it was still hot and sunny) climbing around the boat towards me, meal in hand. We had shared a few smiles earlier in the day.
“Hi James, can I join you?”
“Sure, share my hatch!”
“Have you seen these boys having their hair washed? So I was wondering if you’d like a hair-wash too?”
I feel myself going red from the neck up. Fortunately, I was pretty red anyway from long hours at the tiller, in the sun. “Er - that would be great! But I’m not sure that the Spanish Inquisition would approve!"
“The what?”
“The Spanish Inquisition. You know – the Monty Python sketch!”
“Oh yes – that’s brilliant! Except the red cape might get caught around the propeller! Anyway, when you’ve finished your meal, come and find me, and we’ll get started. We can use one of the washing-up bowls.”
skipper Noel experiences the hair-wash treatment
Ingrid is a tall, slim and attractive girl from Staines, and studying Geography at Newcastle. With her glasses on she looks studious, without them, sensuous. With only a bikini on - smokin’ hot - one might say. I find her by the towpath, perched on the side of the boat.
“Come on James, let’s go inside – the kettle has boiled, the water is warm, and the shampoo is here . . . But you need to take your shirt off first - of course."
This is the difficult bit, as I’m only too aware of my narrow chest, lack of muscles and skinny legs. So I never wear shorts on the boats, or on any holiday for that matter. And compared to Ingrid’s curvaceous body, I feel like a rake. But it doesn’t seem to bother her:
“Okay? So put your head down, and let’s get some soap into your curls.”
I do as instructed and, with her gentle hands massaging my scalp and longish, curly hair, my anxieties and unease seem to float away. It gives me a deep sense of connection, both to Ingrid and to the whole cruise. Certainly no girlfriend had ever offered me such a treat. After she’d finished, she wraps my head in a towel –and gives me a kiss on the cheek.
“Thank you!” I blurt out – “that was wonderful! The high spot of my week!”
“You’re welcome – I enjoyed it too! See you later.”
But what’s going on? Envy? Guilt? Sensuality? Gratitude? A whole chemistry of thoughts and feelings now flood my brain. For I had never thought that the Spanish Inquisition might be like this!
happy campers relax by the River Nene
Nevertheless, despite this, and despite (or even because of) all the unexpected moments in the cruise, I was well and truly “all aboard” on this new adventure in my life. From now on, on a day-to-day basis, my interest in canals and planning for the next trip would become the bread and butter - and jam - of my life.
Cast off the ropes!!
William Bruton says "I’m a yachting journalist by trade and I started the English Logbook Company whilst working as a yacht skipper in the Mediterranean. I couldn’t find a logbook that felt of a suitable quality to use on board — something properly made, practical, and worth keeping — so I set out to make one myself.