Nowhere-on Thames: Gateway to the Olympics

Here in Nowhere-on-Thames there’s a spot of local bother pertaining to the forthcoming  Games of the 30^th Olympiad, or London 2012 to you and me.  It’s all to do with the rowing.....that’s sitting in boats with oars, not having a verbal dispute, although I can see a lot of the latter breaking out over our local Diplomatic Incident if the Village Society get their twinsets in any more of a twist.

So, to what am I referring? Well, dear reader, it’s like this:

Nowhere-on-Thames is a small village of little distinction. Its claims to fame are few. Among them is that Jerome.K.Jerome and the other Men–in-a-Boat (not forgetting the dog) spent a night here whilst JKJ was doing the journey of the book. When I say “among them”, I really mean “and that’s about it”.

Historically speaking, I am led to believe that this small village was, at the time of the Domesday Book, bigger than Birmingham. How things change. I bet the residents of modern-day Birmingham would struggle with only two fish-and-chip shops, a chemist, newsagent, off-licence and two formal-wear-hire shops to sustain them. Mind you, on the plus side, they wouldn’t want for hairdressers, although I don’t think the Tesco Local would cope with the volume of customers. Our villagers inhabit one of the best-coiffed Thames-side villages for miles, but then, as members of the Royal Family could drive through here at any time, you wouldn’t want them to see you on a bad hair day, would you? And if you can’t get an appointment, then there’s also a hat-hire emporium, which does a roaring trade during the summer months when everyone-who’s-anyone (i.e. not me) is looking for fetching headgear for Ascot/Henley/Smith’s  Lawn/Royal Garden Party season.

Apart from being much smaller than Birmingham and getting a mention in “Three Men in a Boat”, N-o-T has only one other “feature”, and that is one of the very few public slipways on the River Thames. Apparently. And here’s where the twinsets are getting in a twist.

We are, for better or worse, but a hop and a skip away from the Olympic Rowing Venue. And, as one of the Australians said at the last Olympiad, Britain seems to excel at sports which are done sitting down. Rowing, thanks to the sainted Sir Steve Redgrave, is one of these, and is expected to draw many people to spectate.  The only fly in the ointment, as with much of the London Olympics, is transport.

Unbeknown to more or less anyone, a plan has been being hatched around these parts by the Parish Council and a large local company specialising in boat trips along the river, to provide transport facilities to the rowing venue. This will, apparently, entail the construction of some new pontoons adjacent to our local public slipway, so that the large river boats can moor there and pick up passengers who will alight at our local station and walk the hundred yards or so to the riverbank, where they will embark upon a short boat journey to the rowing venue. And nothing much would have been known of it still, had not a mole informed the local Village Society. 

I can see why they’re a bit concerned.  The intended site, apart from the slipway, is a small stretch of open riverfront with benches and a picnic spot, with uninterrupted views across the river to the grounds of Windsor Castle.  A pretty little spot, it is much used at the weekend (and indeed, during the week) by locals and visitors alike, who come to feed the ducks and swans, sit under the huge horse chestnut trees and relax or chat or read.  The Village Society wants us to protest and to Ask Questions. Questions such as “What will happen to this new infrastructure once the Games are over?” and “Will the boat operator have permission to continue the service beyond the Olympics?” and probably the most pertinent question of all: “Who’s paying?”

It will be interesting to see how this pans out. On the one hand, it might be quite nice to be (however peripherally) a sort of “hub” for part of the Olympics. On the other, I’ve always had a soft spot for our little bit of public space by the river. I don’t want to see it trampled underfoot by hordes of people on their way from A to B.  And I expect the dozens of ducks, geese and swans who hang about there in the hope of a regular feed will be traumatised if their regular lunch spot is invaded by Johnny Foreigners without so much as a bag of crusts between them.  If the Parish Council and the boat people get their way, then there’ll be many more than just three men in a boat down by the river. There’ll probably be the equivalent of a goodly slice of the population of Birmingham! And I bet JKJ will be spinning in his grave.

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