Member-only story
In Praise of Traffic Gods
On animating the modern world
“O, mighty Moorsimus,” the invocation always began. “We beseech unto Thee…” The O had to be drawn out and dramatic, the whole thing spoken in a mocking sort of tone I can only describe as “ecclesiastical falsetto.”
I forget exactly how the rest of the prayer went. Unlike the invocation, the request part wasn’t quite as scripted, changing a bit depending on what exactly we were beseeching the mighty Moorsimus for. It never changed much, though, because the ask was always more or less the same: to help us find a good mooring spot for our narrowboat along the busy visitor mooring stretches of London’s Regent’s Canal. For that was the purpose of praying to Moorsimus. He was the god of mooring spots.
I wonder if he still is. I wonder if he’s still out there, old Moorsimus. I haven’t kept up with him much lately, having long since moved back to my home country where canal boat life isn’t really a thing. I wonder if anyone on the London canals still sings his praises, still calls on him to intercede on their behalf. I’d bet there are boaters who do, though they have their own names for him, their own unique rituals of invocation so they too can get a prime spot right on the towpath in Camden.
Does he have a Dutch equivalent for Amsterdam’s canals? Rendering Moorsimus, then, an…
