Infill the editor writes his own obit

Infill James Brindley is dead!

Could you tell a WRG meeting from a children’s party?

James Brindley R.I.P.

OK actually he’s been resting in peace for quite a long time already - two and a half centuries, to be exact. Yes, 2022 marks the 250th anniversary of the death of James Brindley, by far the most famous engineer of the early part of the canal-building era in Britain, involved in almost all of the canals being planned or built during the 1760s and early 1770s. But you don’t want to hear about him from me, you want to hear about him from the resident poet at the Chester Courant newspaper, responsible for this spectacularly badly-written 1772 epitaph...

JAMES BRINDLEY lies amongst these Rocks, He made Canals, Bridges, and Locks, To convey Water; he made Tunnels for Barges, Boats, and Air-Vessels; He erected several Banks, Mills, Pumps, Machines, with Wheels and Cranks; He was famous t’invent Engines, Calculated for working Mines; He knew Water, its Weight and Strength, Turn’d Brooks, made Soughs to a great Length; While he used the Miners’ Blast, He stopp’d Currents from running too fast; There ne’er was paid such Attention As he did to Navigation. But while busy with Pit or Well, His Spirits sunk below Level; And, when too late, his Doctor found, Water sent him to the Ground.

It would be hard to beat that, but I can’t help thinking that it might be worth a try. Rather than risk tempting fate by writing the obituaries of well-known WRG folks while they’re still alive, I’ve restricted myself to penning the first few lines of my own obituary:

MARTIN LUDGATE lies beneath this Stone, He made Jokes to make you groan, He published Restoration Features, And Toolbox Talks by the best of Teachers; He wrote London WRG Reports, And laid Bricks (while wearing Shorts)... Many a true word...

The door opened at the last WRG Committee meeting and a woman and small child entered.

Woman: I think I’ve come to the wrong place. This isn’t a 3-year-olds’ party, is it? WRG Committee: Well...

Wish you were here?

Just occasionally those of us who spend our lives writing about canals find ourselves struggling to come up with something nice to say about a less-inspiring length of waterway. But no such concerns troubled the author of this 1930s canoeing guide to Scotland (spotted by the editor on the WRG North West sales stand) when it came to saying what he really thought about the maginificent Caledonian Canal at the picturesque small waterside town of Fort Augustus...

“The town of Fort Augustus is a collection of melancholy-looking houses, built upon a slope at the foot of Loch Ness. They once had a companion with some pretensions to liveliness but Gordon Cumming died, and passengers can no longer pass the dreary hour occupied by the steamer in going up or down the locks, as the case may be, by inspecting the trophies of that mighty Scot. There is a dearth of foliage in the neighbourhood; the hills are not striking; the locks, though useful, are an eyesore; and if there be any residents, they probably behave quietly, but the fact of my having arrived at this place on a fast day will account for the vagueness of my notions respecting it. Fort Augustus is neither particularly clean, well situated, cheerful, nor handsome, and I doubt whether it ever produced a favourable impression upon the mind of anyone. My only pleasurable emotion in connexion with it, was the feeling that the long lake with its spindrift, spray, short sharp rollers, and rough shores ended there.

After the grand scenery on Loch Ness, that portion of the canal between Fort Augustus and Cullochy, a distance of about five miles, is comparatively dull...”