I don’t like people telling me what to do.
Does anyone?
I doubt many of us have ever said, “I’m never happier than when I’m ordered around and I don’t have the freedom to make my own decisions. I love it!”
Actually, this can work well behind the bedroom door so - to clarify - I am talking about those aspects of living that are removed from sexual expression.
Obviously, no-one likes to be told what to do or how to live their lives. That’s why laws & rules, conflicts & wars exist. Left to our own devices, in a world without consequences, each of us would spend our days doing pretty much what we want, when we want, how we want and with whoever we want.
Life cannot always be like that though.
On a recent blog, I mentioned that - when heading west from Little Venice - the next opportunity to fill up with water is 4 cruising hours away in Greenford. It could be argued that I should stop whinging and invest in a 12 mile hosepipe but - I’m a demanding sort - and for the £800 plus I pay for my annual waterways license, I’d like to to see a small part of it used to stick a couple more taps into the ground. This would not just be for my benefit. If my wish was granted, other idealist boaters who like to rinse after brushing their teeth or flush their toilet, would be able to use these taps too.
To illustrate the staggering challenge faced by London boaters when it comes to getting water, here’s a quick anecdote.....
A few months ago, on the way to Oxford, I took a detour down the Leicester arm of the Grand Union. After 10 hours of narrow, winding countryside, I took a further detour, down an even more windy and narrow section, where I ended up in the sleepy town of Market Harborough, approximately 18 miles southwest of Emerald City.
Where I was moored, alongside the towpath, I was staggered to see that there were taps roughly every 20 metres. The same was true in nearby Foxton. Every visiting boat had its own water supply.
Collectively, Market Harborough and Foxton have more designated water points for itinerant boaters than central London does.
.... So, some time ago, I was drifting into Little Venice with an empty water tank. My curtains had been closed all morning out of concern that - if anyone saw me cleaning the toilet with Sunny Delight whilst my frothing mouth caused toothpaste to dribble down my chin - they’d report me to Customs for having Rabies.
At Little Venice, as usual, the main water point was being used. On this occasion, two other boats were already in line before me. I could expect to wait 3 or 4 hours before my turn. However, just behind the water point, another boat was leaning against a permanently moored cafe-barge and its hosepipe looked to be connected to another tap.
Oh! Was there a 2nd tap?
I pulled up alongside as the boater was finishing up. It was perfect timing.
“I didn’t know about this one,” I said, excitedly. “Is it private or something?”
“It’s a public tap,” he replied, “We have every right to use it - but HE is going to give you a hard time!” He gestured towards a man on the towpath who was scowling in my direction.
The other boat reversed out and I pulled in, resting the stern against the floating cafe and swinging my bow towards the towpath. It was a little precarious but I got the front tied up to some railings. This mysterious other tap - although not clearly marked - was indeed another public facility. I wondered why I had not known about it before.
As I was unravelling my hose, the scowling man came over.
“There’s a proper tap THERE,” he began. He sounded posh, which - even though I sometimes sound too - irritated the hell out of me. Instinctively, I decided that he was an over-privileged twat and that I was a far better person than him. He pointed at the other tap with the 4 hour queue.
“This is a proper tap,” I replied.
I demonstrated by turning the tap. Some water poured out and landed on my shoe, causing me to feel a little awkward. “Proper tap,” I repeated, unconvincingly.
“But the trouble is that we are making teas on here,” he continued, pointing to the barge that my boat was resting alongside, “And if your boat bangs against ours, boiling water is liable to spill out and burn the staff or customers. It creates a healthy and safety issue.”
I forgot about my wet foot.
“I appreciate you letting me know,” I responded, politely, “I’ll be as a careful as I can.”
His tone switched.
“Why can’t you just use THAT one?” he snapped.
My tone switched too.
“Because I want to use this one!”
“But why?
“Because there are 2 other boats waiting there and it will take over 3 hours.”
“That’s not my problem!” he said.
As if that was going to persuade me.
He sighed, composed himself a little and continued.
“Look, if you stay here, another boat will come along and - once you have finished - that boat will also lean against us and this will continue all day.”
“You’re probably right,” I said, “That’s what I just did.”
“We’re running a business here, “ he said. “I don’t want boats leaning against us all day.”
Occasionally, when I feel challenged, I experience a moment of clarity. In the past, in a situation like this, I would perhaps have been fearful, backed down and mumbled something semi-coherent in a poor attempt to protect my position and dignity. Nowadays, anger sometimes tends to focus my mind and I become more articulate.
Like all curses, hypertension has its silver linings. From deep in my abdomen, I felt the aggression rise.
“If that’s really your issue, stop talking to me,” I jabbed. “It’s because of YOU that I haven’t started to fill up yet. The quicker I start, the quicker I’ll be gone.”
He stayed silent. glaring at me with contempt.
Sensing that I had taken the advantage, I pressed on.
“If that is really your biggest worry, go away. I’m not going to be able to start filling up until you have stopped talking to me.”
“Well now you’re just being beligerant,” he said, but his voice had lost its authority.
“If you feel that I should not be here, make a complaint,” I said.
“But I am,” he squealed, in what sounded like fake triumph, “I am complaining to you!”
“And I’m not going to give you what you want,” I replied, “You might be able to get your way with some people but badgering them like this but you’re not going to get your way with me. It’s not going to happen.”
Somehow, I’d started to feel comfortable with the strength of my position. He must have sensed it too. He looked down and I went in for the kill.
“Actually, your boat is blocking a public water point,” I said, “I’m the one who has the right to be complaining. You’re not allowed to block a water point.”
He walked away, I connected my hose and - for the next hour - paced up and down on the inside of my boat while my water tank slowly filled.
I was seething for about 3 days, convinced that this was a case of a privileged boat owner ,lucky enough to have secured a permanent position in one of London’s most prestigious locations, with an ‘I’m alright Jack, screw you,’ attitude towards other less privileged boaters. This ‘boiling water’ safety nonsense had clearly been an excuse. Otherwise why had the focus of his complaint kept switching around? In all probability, the real story was that he didn’t want other boats leaning against his because it looked untidy and was an inconvenience.
Once I’d had time to reflect, however, my mindset mellowed and I realised that this was probably not be the full story.
The cafe boat had been moored there for many years. That much I knew. Had this public tap only recently been fitted though? Which came first?
If the barge had arrived first, why had a public tap been fitted so close to it?
If the tap was there first, why had the barge been sold a mooring which was adjacent to a public water point?
Somewhere along the line, an act of incompetence or negligence had taken place. The confrontation that I have described here was a symptom of that act, an expression of an underlying frustration that exists in an overcrowded and under-resourced waterways system. The encounter had reinforced for me how scarce and inadequate the facilities available to London boaters are. If there were more taps, there would have been no need for this conflict to have arisen. This would never happen in Market Harborough.
Once I’d fully calmed down and processed the experience. I found myself with some sympathy for my nemesis. Ultimately, I needed water and my survival needs were more important to me than he was. However, we all have our values and - in the process of taking care of mine - I had disregarded his. This was not a regret, as such, merely an observation and an attempt to be truthful & objective (although I understand that my role in the confrontation disqualifies me from being completely so). Sometimes, this is what it means to be human. Not everything is about compromise.
Had I been selfish?
If I had, was I in the wrong?
When Is it OK to be selfish?
I thought of Abraham Maslow and his hierarchy of needs.
My need - water - would be at the base of Maslow’s pyramid, an expression of the most basic biological and physiological requirement for human survival.
His needs - comfort, independence, dominance and prestige - were less critical priorities, probably ‘esteem’ related, which appears near the peak of Maslow’s pyramid.
In plain talk, my needs trumped his and, arguably, it was he that had been selfish by not showing empathy for my greater struggle.
All that said, assuming this is a regular occurrence, I do have some sympathy for his frustration.
Is it reasonable to expect anyone to wait 3 hours for water when an unused public tap is waiting less than 20 feet away? Of course not.
But is it reasonable to expect a boater who is paying to run a business to have other boats mooring up alongside all day long? That doesn’t seem fair either.
The experience raised, for me, the need for CRT to examine and re-evaluate where the current waterways’ priorities are. To their credit, very recently, some of the water points have been upgraded. The main one at Little Venice, for example, which for years had operated at a slow, dripping pace akin to Chinese water torture has just been changed and now flows at a good pressure. It’s a step in the right direction. It means that every boat is able to fill up far more quickly than before, thus reducing the waiting time for other boats.
I do feel grateful for this.
But why am I grateful?
Is this really a luxury for which I should feel gratitude?
Or is this a basic human entitlement that I should expect my boat license to cover me for?
My aforementioned gratitude worries me! It tells me that - since I moved onto the waterways - I have lowered my expectations too much.
So now I’m raising them again.
Yes, I believe boaters - in London especially - are entitled to better facilities than those currently available. This isn’t a third world country and we do not live in the 18th century.
Late in 2013, an investigation by the London Assembly into the waterways around London concluded that there was an urgent need for improved boaters’ facilities around London. and recommended that CRT make this a priority. CRT’s response, unhelpfully, was that this would be “challenging.”
I do not accept that adding more water points to this over crowded, under resourced city is an unrealistic challenge. If Market Harborough can manage it, so can London. If I’m missing a point here, I’d really like to know what it is.
Joel - December 29th, 2013.
