The weekend is behind us and once again there've been a few dreamers and leaners on the gate who wanted to know about the property. Sometimes I humour them by walking up to the gate and our conversation then goes something like this:
`I beg your pardon', they say. 'You must think me very rude; but all this is so new to me. So -- this -- is -- a -- River!'
`The River,' says I.
`And you really live by the river? What a jolly life!'
`By it and with it and on it and in it,' says I. `It's brother and sister to me, and aunts, and company, and food and drink, and (naturally) wash-ing. It's my world, and I don't want any other. What it hasn't got is not worth having, and what it doesn't know is not worth knowing. Lord! the times we've had together! Whether in winter or summer, spring or au-tumn, it's always got its fun and its excitements.'
`But isn't it a bit dull at times?' they ask. `Just you and the river, and no one else to pass a word with?'
`No one else to -- well, I mustn't be hard on you,' says I with forbearance. `You're new to it, and of course you don't know. The bank is so crowded nowadays that many people are moving away altogether!'
Of course, any Kenneth Grahame devotee will know that this is Rat and Mole talking but, depending on my mood at the time, I've also been known to anthropomorphise Badger and even the exasperating Toad.
So do as I did and "... take the adventure, heed the call, now ere the irrevocable moment passes! ‘Tis but a banging of the door behind you, a blithesome step forward, and you are out of the old life and into the new! Then some day, some day long hence, jog home here if you will, when the cup has been drained and the play has been played, and sit down by your quiet river with a store of goodly memories for company."
P.S. Not one of the dreamers and leaners made an offer on "Riverbend", but one suggested he would buy himself a copy of 'Wind in the Willows'.
