We’d ridden out to see Tim at his new home. We’d navigated the muddy bank to the right bridge number, punctures along the way, and knocked at the third boat. “Tim, you remember going boating in Stratford?” I asked, sitting in the stern of his newest acquisition – a narrow boat.
He seemed pensive for a second, unlike the Tim I know, and then said: “Of course I remember Stratford. Those tiny fucking boats. Thought they were gonna tip over. You know where you are with this baby”. He tapped his knuckles on the roof of the boat and admired it for a second.
“We all thought we were gonna get soaked through,” I said. “Who else was there? I’m gonna write about it.”
“Ah! So you want my facts for your story,” he smiled.
“Well, in a fashion, yeah I do. You know how it is dude, gotta get it all down. Jamie was there I think, Mike too, weren’t you?”
Mike shook his head, lit his spliff and said: “I’ve been to Stratford once, and I didn’t get on a boat so...”
“Maybe not then,” I replied.
“Jamie was there, yeah. John too, I think. There were a few of us that day, it was cold and miserable,” Tim recalled. “I paid for one of the boats cuz no-one else would chip in. It was a bit of a lost day really – too much weed for my liking. Just giggling all day I was – that was the stuff from my neighbours attic.”
“I remember you getting some stuff off your neighbour but I can’t remember what it was like. Skunk?”
“Yeah, he had skunk. Tons. I just sort of had a lost two weeks with it. That afternoon in Stratford must have been right in the middle of it all.”
“Probably.”
“We took out two boats didn’t we?” Tim thought about it for a second, looking off over the open field on the opposite side of the bank. “Yeah, it was two boats. Jamie and I were in one and..”
“Who was in the other one?”
“You and someone else probably. John? We just sorta rode out slowly. It was pretty hairy to be honest.” Tim chuckled. He held out his arms slightly and acted unstable, wobbling his arms slightly with crossed eyes.
“Rowing boats weren’t they?” I asked.
“Beats me.”
“Didn’t we go up some little stream and sit under a bridge in the boats for a bit? I’m sure we did. I remember thinking what the fuck is the guy gonna say when we get back with his boats like, what, two hours too late. I thought we’d get charged some extortionate price for the time we’d over-run.”
“Three pounds for twenty minutes in a boat on a little poxy stretch of river. Man, what a fucking jip. No wonder we were out for so long, you can’t get anywhere on water in twenty minutes.”
“It’s for the nice tourists though Tim,” I said, “I should think they quite enjoy pottering about on the river for twenty minutes and then going round Shakespeare’s house or whatever. We were just plain bored.”
“Still am,” Tim noted. All three of us laughed. Still bored.
“Man, those were the days,” Tim declared, picking up his cup of tea off the roof.
“Man, those were always the days,” I retorted, “There’s this quote...”
“A quote!” interrupted Mike, “Another?”
“Yeah, course. ‘I tend to live in the past because that’s where most of my life is’. Now, that’s a quote, man. That’s a real fucking stunner.” I pointed and jabbed my index finger in front of me.
“Who is it?” Mike asked.
“I can’t remember but I’ll have it written down somewhere.”
“Don’t you have anything written about Stratford then?” Tim asked.
“Tim, man. Sometimes the days just float away from you. Y’know?”
