Three Men in a Boat (but not on the Clyde River)

 

 

Jerome K. Jerome's hilarious story of what is probably the worst holiday in literature has an air of delightful nostalgia and is still laugh-aloud funny more than a hundred years after it what first published with this preface:

 

Click here to read the book

 

And yet, it is full of wisdom as well, "... not merely as regards the present case, but with reference to our trip up the river of life generally. How many people, on that voyage, load up the boat till it is in danger of swamping with a store of foolish things which they think essential to the pleasure and comfort of the trip, but which are really only useless lumber.

How they pile the poor little craft mast-high with fine clothes and big houses; with useless servants, and a host of swell friends that do not care twopence for them, and that they do not care three ha'pence for; with expensive entertainments that nobody enjoys, with formalities and fashions, with pretence and ostentation, and with - oh, heaviest, maddest lumber of all! - the dread of what will my neighbour think, with luxuries that only cloy, with pleasures that bore, with empty show that, like the criminal's iron crown of yore, makes to bleed and swoon the aching head that wears it!

It is lumber, man - all lumber! Throw it overboard. It makes the boat so heavy to pull, you nearly faint at the oars. It makes it so cumbersome and dangerous to manage, you never know a moment's freedom from anxiety and care, never gain a moment's rest for dreamy laziness - no time to watch the windy shadows skimming lightly o'er the shallows, or the glittering sunbeams flitting in and out among the ripples, or the great trees by the margin looking down at their own image, or the woods all green and golden, or the lilies white and yellow, or the sombre-waving rushes, or the sedges, or the orchis, or the forget-me-nots.

Throw the lumber over, man! Let your boat of life be light, packed with only what you need - a homely home and simple pleasures, one or two friends, worth the name, someone to love and someone to love you, a cat, a dog, and a pipe or two, enough to eat and enough to wear, and a little more than enough to drink; for thirst is a dangerous thing.

You will find the boat easier to pull then, and it will not be so liable to upset, and it will not matter so much if it does upset; good, plain merchandise will stand water. You will have time to think as well as to work ..."

There is so much insight packed into this little book - useful information indeed, to say nothing of the dog! - that you almost regret having come to their final toast, "Here's to Three Men well out of a Boat!"

But that's a whole 184 pages later, so sit back and enjoy! (or listen here to the audiobook)

The world is my oyster

 

 

If you like oysters you're not alone: Egyptians and Assyrians knew that these molluses were delicious; the Greeks and Romans thought they were an aphrodisiac.

I don't like them - in fact, I've never tasted one, even though they grow in profusion on our own jetty -, maybe because at my age I no longer need an aphrodisiac, or maybe because the oyster has a sex change and can be first a male and then a female and back again.

But the movie "Oyster Farmer" is not about oysters but a rollicking good yarn with oysters, set on the Hawkesbury River near Sydney.

Of course, here at Nelligen we have much better oysters and a much better river but that's an argument for another day.

The Nelligen Progress Association's tourist-y brochure

And here's your link to the Nelligen Progress Association.

From the archives

www.sunlitwaters.com.au

 

The "Clyde Princess" has long since met a rather undignified demise on the shores of the now defunct Sunlit Waters Leisure Retreat, but its memory lives on in these old photographs.

To quote from their old website: "The Clyde Princess is a modern, well equipped vessel specially designed for maximum passenger convenience. She has a flush deck design for easy boarding of passengers without steps or ladders. She offers excellent viewing from all deck areas. Launched in 1981 at Nelligen, her hull is designed to create minimal wash and therefore not disturb the ecology of this unique river system.

The Clyde's longest-serving Ferry Master, Jeff Dunbar, delivers a most interesting and comprehensive commentary backed by over 30 years' life experiences on the river.

A Clyde Princess cruise is your best way to experience the gloriously unspoilt nature of the magnificent Clyde River and its environs."

The "Clyde Princess" used to depart from the old Fishermen's Wharf next to the Batemans Bay bridge and, for $24 for an adult or $12 for a child, one could cruise in just over three hours from Batemans Bay to the historic village of Nelligen and back, while taking in the beauty of the Clyde River, one of the last remaining unspoilt waterways.

It was a bright and moonlit night ...

 

We have no photo of Mavis, however, we don't need one as her image will be forever in our heads and our hearts.

 

And I was just finishing off my evening meal with a bit of runny camembert on a piece of toasted bread, when the phone rang and a man's voice said, "Peter, I have bad news for you: Mavis passed away this morning."

I felt like saying, "you must be joking" but, of course, no-one, least of all her son Jeff, jokes about such a thing. Still, I thought it can not be simply because it can not be! The last time I felt this speechless and thunderstruck was when another late-night caller in 1995 informed me that my best friend for almost thirty years, Noel, had passed away.

Not that we had known Mavis for quite that long; in fact, we may never have met, had it not been for our four-legged friends Malty and Rover befriending Mavis' four-legged friend Suki. That was almost twenty years ago, and an easily-going friendship developed, with Mavis phoning us and us phoning Mavis, or meeting along the lane during our doggy-walks.

The meetings along the lane became less frequent as Mavis found it more difficult to walk, and stopped altogether when Suki passed away. Mavis had loved Suki, and Suki had loved Mavis, and something inside Mavis changed after Suki's passing, and while we still met at her flat, we never mentioned the word "Suki" again, knowing how it would upset her.

Mavis and I continued our telephone conversations which were often and long. We never wasted time talking about the weather but launched right into verbal attacks on corrupt politicians, tax-avoiding fatcats, juvenile and other miscreants, and all the other of the world's woes. To us, bad news was good news which allowed us to wind each other up, topping one piece of bad news with an even worse one. "Are you trying to wind me up, Mavis?" "Well, you started it, Peter!"

Somehow, COVID-19 disrupted all this, our occasional visits and our regular phone chats, and I am already feeling guilty for not having called her more recently than perhaps a couple of weeks ago. We last saw Mavis from a distance on Wednesday the 22nd of July. We had just come back from a COVID-19 test. Mavis was standing outside her door in a white dressing gown which was unusual as she was a fastidious dresser. We waved as we drove by, not wanting to stop in case we hadn't been tested negative, and I tried to phone her when we got home but there was no reply, possibly because she had mislaid her mobile phone.

How we wished she had taken it with her so that we could phone her one last time to say, "Good-bye, Mavis! It was a privilege having been your friends and our lives have been richer for having known you!"