It wasn't a huge journey on the canal from Kidlington to Wolvercote but once again the weather threatened to make it a miserable affair. Clouds, rain, wind ... plagues of frogs ... well, one frog to be precise. A frog of willow, tissue paper, glue and a great deal of paint which had been made by the children of the Grange Primary School, Banbury, very nearly leapt into the canal to join its amphibious friends when a gust of wind unseated it from its position on the bow of Jellicoe ... Mel was the saviour!
On Wolvercote Green ... despite twenty two men on the television kicking a bladder (one or two of them not very accurately) the event was a wonderful affair ... we had music, storytelling and a short impromptu piece of theatre from the newly formed and immediately disbanded Wolvercote Theatre Company ... about twenty young people armed with tissue paper fish performed the Deadly Fish Attack on Wolvercote ... to great applause and merry making. The threatened rain didn't appear ... unlike four miles away on the river journey at Iffley Lock, where it cut a wonderful evening short. Plover B was moored a little way away from the action so it was decided to bring it closer ... so it could be the centre of attention once again. All was going well until the engine cut out for no other reason that it made for a dramatic entrance ... or very nearly a dramatic exit.
The boat meandered towards the DANGER sign, as if attracted by some sort of magnetic force, it turned and twirled with various crew members shouting helpful things like ... "Jump", "Dive for it", "For goodness sake ... turn left ...", at least it sounded like "for goodness sake" ... eventually all was well as it was brought under control by the brave actions of Matt who leapt onto the island and pulled on the rope for all his worth ... phew! said the crew. The Rap Yard performed a couple of the tracks that they had especially written for the water festival, followed by Matt Sage and the Orchestra of Love ... their last gig before their storming of the Glastonbury Mud Festival. Unfortunately the evening was brought to a close by the rain ... forty people under a gazebo, eight of them with musical instruments threatening to warp and take someone's eye out, was too much to bear for too long ... so another leg of our historic journey was brought to a watery end.
Friday 25th June
The end of the journeys is at hand ... the fickle finger of fate has managed to tickle our boats towards their goal ... The Four Pillars Hotel, Sandford-upon-Thames. And for once the weather was not an issue ... we had sun, blue sky, a few white fluffy clouds that mooched around like overfed cartoon sheep and ... more sun! Fun was had by all as Mel and Ivor Bachelor manoeuvred Mountbatten and Jellicoe around a couple of 90 degree corners, knocking the odd college barge out of the way ... very gently ... to moor at a very jaunty angle behind the stage which was up and ready to accept the talented folk that had followed our journeys from the beginning. Plover B arrived, a beautiful electric cruiser, Morning Mist and a Canadian Canoe ... and a few other boats joined to complete a veritable watery mish-mash of heritage wood, iron and steel ... and a bit of fibre-glass to boot. All nestled comfortably under the trees and as the sun went down the polished brass glinted in the red rays and the music of Tandara Mandara, Topaz, Tim and Jane, Fily Cissokho and Alexander D Great soothed the savage brows of the audience who had come, armed with polythene sheets, umbrellas, plastic macs, wellingtons, southwesters, life rafts, buoyancy aids and waterproof food expecting, not beautiful sun and clear skies but our friend and travelling companion ...THE RAIN! Once they had got used to the lack of water falling from the skies the audience settled back and enjoyed a spectacular night of fun and frolics with the assembled talented performers. A strange middle-earth type figure paddled about in a coracle in the stream. Groups of unsuspecting audience members helped to create a nineteenth century tavern to enable the Tale of the Stolen Duck to be told. rambling' Rose came amongst us and told us of her life during the war years. Hot dogs and burgers on paper plates and beverages in plastic glasses roamed the Four Pillars garden and... fish jumped, mosquitoes hovered, birds twittered, camera shutters clicked and whirred and slowly the moon rose above the trees and the evening came to a warm and satisfied close. The journeys, started a long wet week before, had at last gone to bed ... all that remained was the Saturday Procession.
Saturday 26th June
The sun has once again forsaken us ... rain, rain and more rain was what greeted our adventurers on Procession Day. Sunburnt noses and necks gleaned from the rays of the previous day shone like beacons in the gathering gloom that was Saturday. The boats moved away from Sandford-upon-Thames at around 1.30 PM ... the rain came with us .... the boats arrived at Iffley Lock .... so did the rain .... the boats processed from Iffly to Folly Bridge and back several times .... as did the rain. Children gathered at the Isis Tavern to collect paper fish, jelly fish, sharks, dragon flies and frogs ... none of which, I have to add, were waterproof ... the paint dribbled down coats and legs and onto the Salter's Steamers that followed the same route as the procession ... along with the rain. Ah well ... what better way to end a water festival! See you next year! - Note - more photos on the next page dedicated to Friday's performance and Saturday's procession.
On Wolvercote Green ... despite twenty two men on the television kicking a bladder (one or two of them not very accurately) the event was a wonderful affair ... we had music, storytelling and a short impromptu piece of theatre from the newly formed and immediately disbanded Wolvercote Theatre Company ... about twenty young people armed with tissue paper fish performed the Deadly Fish Attack on Wolvercote ... to great applause and merry making. The threatened rain didn't appear ... unlike four miles away on the river journey at Iffley Lock, where it cut a wonderful evening short. Plover B was moored a little way away from the action so it was decided to bring it closer ... so it could be the centre of attention once again. All was going well until the engine cut out for no other reason that it made for a dramatic entrance ... or very nearly a dramatic exit. 
Fun was had by all as Mel and Ivor Bachelor manoeuvred Mountbatten and Jellicoe around a couple of 90 degree corners, knocking the odd college barge out of the way ... very gently ... to moor at a very jaunty angle behind the stage which was up and ready to accept the talented folk that had followed our journeys from the beginning. Plover B arrived, a beautiful electric cruiser, Morning Mist and a Canadian Canoe ... and a few other boats joined to complete a veritable watery mish-mash of heritage wood, iron and steel ... and a bit of fibre-glass to boot. All nestled comfortably under the trees and as the sun went down the polished brass glinted in the red rays and the music of Tandara Mandara, Topaz, Tim and Jane, Fily Cissokho and Alexander D Great soothed the savage brows of the audience who had come, armed with polythene sheets, umbrellas, plastic macs, wellingtons, southwesters, life rafts, buoyancy aids and waterproof food expecting, not beautiful sun and clear skies but our friend and travelling companion ...THE RAIN! Once they had got used to the lack of water falling from the skies the audience settled back and enjoyed a spectacular night of fun and frolics with the assembled talented performers. A strange middle-earth type figure paddled about in a coracle in the stream. Groups of unsuspecting audience members helped to create a nineteenth century tavern to enable the Tale of the Stolen Duck to be told. rambling' Rose came amongst us and told us of her life during the war years. Hot dogs and burgers on paper plates and beverages in plastic glasses roamed the Four Pillars garden and... fish jumped, mosquitoes hovered, birds twittered, camera shutters clicked and whirred and slowly the moon rose above the trees and the evening came to a warm and satisfied close. The journeys, started a long wet week before, had at last gone to bed ... all that remained was the Saturday Procession.