Any Dream Will Do

Dreams are peculiar things. The present Mrs Hayward claims she doesn’t really get them, but then she also claims not to get much sleep due to my deafening snoring. In my opinion my snoring is an excellent security measure. No night-time intruder is going to tackle the house where, given the sounds emanating from within, a large and cantankerous Wild Boar is on the loose. 

Last night though I had a very vivid dream, one of those where, at the time, you have no doubts that it’s actually happening regardless of the bizarre things that are occurring. It did however provide me with a marvellous idea that will revive British industry. Bear with me.

Firstly I was at a British seaside resort in the summer, so tourists were milling around amongst shops selling postcards and sticks of rock. Not knowing exactly where I was I approached one of the shops to take a look at the local newspaper hanging in a rack outside. It turned out I was in Southend.

I’ve never been to Southend  myself, although the present Mrs Hayward’s cousin currently lives there, coincidentally working on the local paper. Having said that I also had a discussion earlier that day with some colleagues at work where both Southend and Margate were mentioned so it’s no surprise that my brain later recalled this fine Essex resort.

For some unknown reason I was unnecessarily excited about seeing the pier, the longest in the world no less, at a whacking 1.34 miles long. Who said you don’t learn anything on this blog? I’m educating, entertaining and informing all at the same time. I think I may be channelling the turbulent spirit of Lord Reith, but I digress.

So I headed to the pier and caught the train to the end of it (yes, there’s a train on the real pier, I really must go and take a look some time). Now, this is where the dream should have sent out warning signs to me that things were not all as they appeared. It turned out that there, on the end of the pier, was Kings Cross station. Yes, Kings Cross. The same Kings Cross that sits, landlocked, in the middle of London. 

In the dream, however, it all made perfect sense. It also seemed to be absolutely natural when I spurned the tube for a trip on a water taxi (just up the steps, on the roof) that was soon rushing me along what I thought must be the River Thames like an aquatic railway, complete with stations and platforms and everything.

It seemed to my delirious mind the perfect way to get about. I can picture myself on the boat now, I can see the seats with their blue patterned design and the view out of the window as we whizzed past offices and shops and parks. 

I remember thinking that I was surprised that this turn of speed doesn’t erode the riverbank and then, even more weirdly, I remembered I’d had a previous dream about much the same thing once before. I felt quite pleased that my dream had finally come true. 

I looked at the water taxi map on the wall of the boat (a pseudo tube map thing, all different colours for different ‘lines’) and worked out that I’d get off at the stop after the Strand, which now had a water course running through the middle of the street. As it was I went to the end of the line. I noted where I was, Gandforth apparently. No, I’ve no idea where that is either. 

Shortly after I arrived and disembarked  at Gandforth, I woke up, disappointed that I’d found myself in bed at 4am and I wasn’t in actual fact making use of this great new innovation. This dream, and the memory of sailing majestically through the capital at speed has stuck in my mind most of the day and I’ve concluded that I must be a genius, even if I do say so myself. 

It was a wonderful way to get about, so much nicer than being rammed in the sweaty confines of the London Underground system. 

So let’s get a campaign up together for London, and the rest of the UK, to revive the quite frankly flagging canal industry. Before long there’ll be aqueducts everywhere and water taxis….no, water buses, double decker water buses,……. oh what the hell, triple decker water buses sloshing around everywhere. 

This, in my unconsidered opinion, is the future. You heard it here first.