Chapter 9
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“And as we raise our arms to welcome the Son of God (Yeah!), our sweeeet Jeeeesus (Yeah, Yeah!) into our hearts (Yeah, Hallelujah!!) we sing a happy, happy song (Hallelujah!)

     The girl next to me was swaying her hips rhythmically in time to the beat of the music blasting out in the background; her arms held high and swaying, her hands open, ready to receive whatever it was she wanted to come down onto her, her eyes closed and her mouth…. well, God knows what was coming out of that!!

     I had deliberately stood beside her in hope. Now l looked at her in confusion, fear and pity!“Yes, o’ loooving Lord (Yeah!), let us speak with the Almighty, let us sing His praises (Hallelujah!) and let Him speak through us, my brothers and sisters in Christ (Yeah, Hallelujah! As we speak His glorious words, speak my children in tongues! (Hallelujah, praise be to the Lord!).

     Bob was swaying, Joey and Billy were swaying, the whole congregation was swaying, all their arms in the air, except me!

“Let the light shine, let HIS light shine (Yeah!); let His healing powers enter you (Hallelujah!); let Him take over your whole being (Hallelujah); let Him enter your whole body (Yeah, yeah!).

     The girl beside me had certainly let something into her body, she was now shaking, seemingly in an uncontrollable spasm, from head to foot and was pushing me out into the aisle!

“Let those of us who need His healing power and who want to speak in tongues and issue forth His Holy Word, walk forward now (Yeah!); come forward to me, my brethren, let me lead you to the Promised Land (Hallelujah!) and know that He looooves yooooo!” ‘Yeah, yeah, yeah’, l thought!........... Er Hallelujah!

     I was already in the aisle having been pushed out by the whirling dervish beside me and so l found myself trapped in the throng of worshippers walking steadily forward, past the altar and into the back of the church.

“Come to me my children and l will give yoooo succour (Hallelujah!). All you want, all you ever need, you shall receive (Yeah!)”.

“Now, raise your arms and shout out his Holy name!”

“JEESUS, JEESUS, JEESUS!!”

     It went on repeatedly until soon some close by, started to break down in tears and gabble a language l had never heard before. I had moved away from the whirling dervish so that l didn’t get my eye pocked out and now stood beside Bob.

“So, is He goin’ to give us a bigger boat do yer think Bob?”

“Wot!?”

“A bigger boat!”

“I think you’ve got the wrong end of the stick, mate. Keep yer ‘ands raised!”...........................

.......................................

Bummer crossed himself and raised his eyes to the heavens in quiet supplication, followed by the bottle to his mouth! Ropey Haze tugged at the straps on my lifejacket to make sure l was adequately strapped into my only safety device and the remaining boys bore me up and into the Le Soliel’s cockpit.

      She was slippy, slidy and rocked with the need to get the wind under her heels and go. The rudder was in place, the sheets ready, to control the sails and without further ado, my ‘support crew’ pushed me out into the lake, with a great heave.

     Clear of the jetty Le Soliel wobbled alarmingly, whilst l fought to get the centerboard down. It seemed to stick in the up position so l drifted sideways towards the bank-side. The shore was covered in bracken and creepers which l knew to have underwater roots that would ensnare the unwitting and close by were overhead branches in profusion, just right to entrap masts and rigging. Having spent many a lost afternoon trying to untangle myself, or some unfortunate junior from that shore, l wanted to keep well clear. I tacked the bow the other way hoping to gain a short leg in the opposite direction. My throat was dry, but fortunately, a kick to the top of the centerboard made it go down and Le Soliel immediately responded. And a tweak to the rudder and a push down on it’s blade sent us forward in the direction l had pointed her, allowing us to get away from my waiting observers and the tangled bank.

     Le Soliel started to respond as she was designed to do and clear of the little inlet that led from the jetty, l tacked out and into the lake proper. Water creamed from her bow and l experienced the indescribable thrill of sailing forward in a boat of my own creation. I settled back as we raced forward. There were a few ominous creaks from various parts of the hull and rigging, but nothing seemed to want to actually give way and so l tacked again, to get further into the lake.

     Soon, l was able to turn a corner in the bank and put her on the fastest point of sailing, a broad reach, with the wind coming from just aft of the beam.

     She was fast. Very fast, and responded like a thoroughbred, surging forward and, l swear, starting to surf onto her bow wave and plane. Cheers came from my crew mates mixed with Bummer’s hearty deep guttural roars of appreciation and l guess, relief! I disappeared towards the opposite bank of the lake in a welter of spray.

     My school mates later told me, after l had been recovered, that Le Soliel and myself were traveling at a fair rate of knots and looked ‘real great’ as we were enveloped in spray ‘flying all over the place’! But this was little comfort, having had to swim, choke and finally walk away from what happened!..................................

.......................................... To complete her charming, if not, decrepit appearance, was a smoke stack or chimney, obviously made up out of old baked bean tins and crooked as you like, capped with a black witches hat to keep the rain out. This device obviously worked, because as we stood there, it began to rain and smoke was steadily rising from under the hat, a faint smell of cooking sausages trailing across the air to where we were standing.

“Yoo toos boys wantin’ some grub, are yer!?”

     We looked, but could not see where the voice had come from. There was a large swan necked vent just forward of the wheelhouse, another ‘proper’ fitting on this strange old boat and my immediate thought, was that the voice must have come from there.

“Cum on yoos toos, hop onto the deck an’ cum in, if yoos want some!”

     Intrigued, we jumped gingerly onto the sloping planks making up the ramshackle jetty and hopped onto the deck. There, we could see, standing in the doorway, was a woman. Well, l say a woman, but it was only the fact that this person had enormous breasts, that gave the game away!

“Ello boys, in yer cum an sit yer down over there, that’ll even ‘er out a bit, seein’ as l need to empty the shite tank on this side, on account o’ it’s bluudy full, see!”

     We did as we were told and sat on the starboard bench seat. In front of us, our new acquaintance turned back to her sizzling frying pan and moved her sausages about. Goodness knows how old she was but she was big, or at least wide in the beam, with enormous hips overhung by a large upper structure. For  all that, her legs were shaped like Edwardian table legs, finishing in a dainty pair of slippers. Most of her was covered by a black dress and shawl, finished with an old silk scarf hanging round her large shoulders and down over her ample breasts. To top it all off, her head was surprisingly small, but was dominated by bright blue flashing eyes and wide, thick red lips. She looked like a Perch, constantly sucking in air!

     Her hair hung in unkempt black ringlets down each side of her head, like the woolen hair of a rag doll!

“I’m Ol’ Lizzie see! Saw yoos too admirin’ ma boat.”

“We heard she wos fer sale!”

“Oh no, no, no ducks, the only thin’ ‘round ‘ere fer sale is me! An’ l don’t cum cheap!!”...............................

..................................... You got the feeling that when Ol’ Lizzie was being generous and offering anything, you simply did not refuse. She was the type of woman that few men would argue with, or say no to!

“Get that down yoos!”

     The pile of knitting moved slightly and yawned, shut it’s gawping mouth and cast one weary yellow eye at us, obviously trying to decide whether we were a threat and it should attack us, or just a nuisance come into it’s world, in which case it could do what it really wanted and return it’s eye to deep sleep mode.

     Ol’ Lizzie saw my glance.

“That’s my ol’ pussy, Romford.”

“Romford?”

     She giggled.

“Yeah, l ‘ad a gentleman friend once when l wos livin’ down Essex way. ‘E used ta see me when ‘e got fed up wiv ‘is missus. Nice man, very easy wiv ‘is money ‘e wos. Anyway, we used ta meet in ‘is car out Romford way fer a bit o’ fun and ‘e would ring me an’ say, ‘I want to take my sweet little pussy to Romford’ which meant ‘e wanted to exercise the back springs o’ is motor, loike!”

     She chuckled and then laughed outright at the memory. This time great rumblings came up from within her, like an erupting volcano, until her great mounds of flesh and breasts wobbled uncontrollably and the boat and cabin wobbled in sympathy with her. All it’s time worn fittings and comfortably tatty possessions, wobbling in unison. Romford, opened his eye again, checked that his mistress was safe and then went back to sleep.

“Anyway, ‘e ‘ad ter go – is missus started to suspect ‘is little visits to Romford, especially when she found one o’ ma big bras flutterin’ from ‘is mudguard!”

She laughed again, this time a great tsunami of a laugh that rolled uncontrollably over us, picked us up and carried us with it, so that we could not possibly do anything else but smile and laugh uncontrollably too......................................

............................................. One evening, O’ Lizzie had a couple of deck chairs out on the small foredeck and we sat there, she in one, me in another and Bob sitting on the stempost, whilst the sun gently dropped. She was smoking a cigar; strange for a woman, we thought, but it seemed to fit with Ol’ Lizzie, and l always found the smell comforting, happy making, reminding me of Christmas and family around the fire. She had poured a couple of fingers of whisky for each of us into some old and slightly cracked spirit glasses she had found, after rummaging through the locker under the saloon bench. She had invited us to join her for ‘drinks wiv the Captin, on deck’ after seeing us ride up and had immediately dived into the deep, dark locker, head buried, big bottom up to recover her ‘best crystal glasses’.

“Where are those bleedin’ glasses, sure l saw them in ‘ere a short while back.”

     She emerged, having thrown piles of stored rubbish, bits of cloth, stained antimacassars, old tins and what looked like a dead cat, onto the saloon floor triumphant. The dead pussy turned out be a draft excluder!

“’Ere we are my boys, just where l put ‘em! Let’s take the bottle up on deck an’ enjoy the evenin’.”

     She was in reflective mood, remembering bits of her past, which she sometimes used as examples and lessons for us. Whether she intended it that way l don’t know, but that’s how it felt. But in no way was it patronizing, not the way she explained things!

     The evening was resplendent with a glowing red sun setting on a pillow of orange downy clouds reflected in the water that lapped right to where we were reclining. There was the unmistakable smell of evening in the country, the faint whiff of grass having been cut and burnt, the damp smell of lichen and sodden trees. Almost primeval, but gently tainted with the musky smell of Ol’ Lizzie and her cigar. She had offered us a cigar each a week ago, which we had tried. After all, if a woman could smoke one without coughing, two strapping lads should do fine; but having coughed and spluttered until our faces were purple, we relented, allowing Ol’ Lizzie to smoke ours for us!

“Yoo know, yer may not believe this, but l was wed once!”

“Gosh!”

“Married permanent loike to a man named ‘arry.”

     We waited. She paused, taking in a great lungful from her cigar, the end glowing like a little red beacon in the semi darkness. She took a sip from her glass and pursed her lips appreciatively. We waited. There had to be some significance to this, loads of people got married after all. Having hooked us on her line, she spoke again. Was it going to be funny or serious?

“E wos forever diggin’ ‘oles!”

“Oles?”

“Yeah, ‘oles. Little ones and big ones. All over the bluudy place!”

“If ‘e sat down fer too long, ‘e would get up an’ say, ’I’m just off to dig an ‘ole!’ and he’d be gone! Bluudy ‘oles all over the fuggin’ place – back garden full o’ the bluudy things!

I’d cook ‘im tea, an ‘e would sit in silence eatin’ and when ‘e’d finished e’d say ‘I’m just off to dig a ‘ole’ again’ – bluudy man!

We’d ‘ave an argument, a real barney, an’ instead o’ sortin’ it out, ‘e’d say ‘I’m off to dig a ‘ole! I called ‘im ‘arry the ‘ole!

‘And then ‘e started to bury stuff! Loike a fuggin’ dog ‘e wos! Buryin’ stuff loike bits o’ newspaper ripped up from the local rag an’ then photos, some o’ me an’ my family – l got right shirty wiv ‘im over that, l can tell yer!

I told ‘im I did. I said ‘arry, yoo should be workin’ fer the gas board, the amount o’ holes yoo dig’. Fuggin’ everywhere! I’d go down to the outside loo fer a dump o’ an evenin’ and fall down a bluudy ole! I twisted me ankle once! Bluudy oles!”

     She stopped for a while to take another long drag at her cigar and another sip of her whisky, again pursing her lips in appreciation. She sat back, her great bulk straining the deck chair which squeeked in protest at her slightest movement, the light fast fading, leaving only the tip of her cigar to show where she was in the gloom................................

............................................. Time spent with Ol’ Lizzie provided a much needed buffer to the questions that still pursued us. But she was perceptive, seeming to be able to pick up the vibes when things were bothering us. Later that week on a free afternoon from school, we went down to the yard again. There she was hanging out her enormous bloomers on the washing line.

“Yoos too seem at a bit o’ a loss. Like yoos don’t know which way ta turn loike, beggin’ pardon fer interferrin’!”

We joined her in her saloon, sitting in that comfortable womb like atmosphere which seemed to shut out the problems of the outside world. We explained about my, or Bob’s conundrum, the big question. The conversation roamed around God, girls and thoughts of crossing the Atlantic for a while. Ol’ Lizzie sat back and listened, her head inclined to one side, her lips pursed in concentrated thought.

     Once we had finished, she simply sat back and looked at us both, still deep in thought. I began to feel foolish, expecting her to burst out into laughter at our seriousness. After all, Ol’ Lizzie was far from being a serious God fearing person.

“Hmmm………………”

Ol’ Lizzie was deep in thought, her head inclined forward her fingers pinching her lips as she concentrated. We waited ……………and waited.

“See that ol’ clinker dinghy o’ mine?”

“Yup.”

“Gets dry in this weather an’ the seams all start to open up, needs floatin’ in the water fer a while. Why don’t yoos two drop ‘er in fer me an’ maybe take ‘er off fer a little sail?”

“Ok.”

     Slightly non-plussed at this dismissal, we undid the dinghy from it’s supports and swayed it out over the stern and dropped it carefully into the water. It had a simple lug rig, which we soon hoisted. The rudder was shipped, the daggerboard slotted into it’s case and we were off scudding across the Thames at what seemed like break neck speed. We tacked, totally taken in by the simple sailing that this little boat gave us. Soon we were laughing and reveling in the little boats’ ability to get herself into trouble, but then to easily get herself out again.

     We were having great fun, passing the tiller between the two of us and taking it in turns to see how close we could get to the jetty before sheering away and scudding off again.

     The sense of freedom was invigorating. Just us, a simple little dinghy, the wind, the river and the will to live life to the full. We returned to find Ol’ Lizzie asleep on the couch, completely oblivious to the world, her mounds of flesh wobbling to her snores. We left her then, shutting the door to the cabin quietly and tiptoeing away back to the shore....................................................