Chertsey

It's official!

2012-01-31T12:08:00.003Z

Alan has confirmed it here. There are 33 candidates for the four boater places on the C&RT council, which means that Nick, with his guess of 29 wins the Great Chertsey C&RT sweepstake. (I would just like to point out that I came a very close second, with 38, so not bad guesswork). Step forward Nick, whoever and claim your prize. Er, a ride in the parade at Braunston, perhaps? (if you have a day to spare and a strong bladder).

Alan makes an interesting point about the nominated candidates of the IWA etc (and to a lesser extent HNBOC) not declaring their allegiance in their statement. It might be too much to ask that they waste even a few of their precious 150 words on this, but does it mean that they will have an unfair advantage through picking up individual votes on their own merits on top of the block votes of the unthinking membership of the organisation backing them? No more so I wouldn't have thought than if they did declare their allegiance.

I agree with Alan that boaters' representatives should be representing ALL voters, at least between them even if each individual cannot embody all boaters' different needs. Hopefully once elected they will do so, just as an MP's duty is to represent all the people in their constituency, and not just the ones who voted for them. The IWA, RBOA, and HNBOC have promoted candidates, but these are organisations largely formed of boaters. Different boaters may find that their interests are in conflict with one anothers', but on the whole they have more in common than divides them.

On the other hand, people like anglers, for example, often have interest that are in direct conflict with those of boaters, and this frequently emerges in antipathy between the groups. Some anglers are also boaters though, and thus eligible to stand in the election, but could conceievably act as a Trojan horse for anti-boater interests. I'm not saying this has happened or will happen, but I would consider it a greater threat to boater representation than the election of organisation-backed boaters. However, there is a big downside to the current situation, and that is that the muscle of the IWA, however virtuous their candidates might be (and I haven't investigated them), will lead to really excellent candidates like Alan Fincher and Sue Cawson being overlooked, and that is a very great shame.

Election fever

2012-01-30T19:20:00.002Z

Polling opens next week in the C&RT elections, but so far, no list of candidates has been published, despite nominations closing on January 18th. Normally as members of an organisation electing its officers you wouldn't notice this; the first you would know about any of it would be when the ballot paper and the candidates' election statements dropped through your letterbox, and I would guess that these are probably beginning to wing their way to licence holders this week. Possibly they are still checking the bona fides of candidates' sponsors (not that that would be so hard).

But having a closer interest in this particular election, these things become more apparent. Is it a problem? How far in advance should lists of candidates be published? Does it raise issues for the fairness of the election? Already some candidates have been using their platforms as bloggers or contributors to CanalWorld to promote their cause, whilst others have the muscle of a big organisation behind them; however others, either low profile independents or those standing with the support of smaller groups will struggle to get their name known - surely if anything has the potential to compromise at least some concept of fairness, then it is this. But as I said back before Christmas, this is an inevitable outcome of free speech, and in the era of the internet, all but impossible to curb even if you wanted to. And indeed, why would you wish to stop communicators showing how well they can communicate; campaigners how well they can campaign. Yes, people with a higher profile will get more votes; the same goes for MPs - would Martin Bell have been elected if he had been Joe Bloggs in a grey suit rather than a white one? People with big organisations behind them will do better than independents - how many independent MPs are there? It's not fair, exactly, but it is democratic. Blame the voters if you like, for being too ready to be swayed by a familiar name or the endorsement of an organisation whose aims they vaguely understand and approve of. But don't blame the system; it's doing its best. Democracy, as Winston Churchill said, is the worst possible system with the exception of all the others that have been tried. Whether publishing a list of names on the Waterscape website a week sooner would make much difference to this is a somewhat debatable point.

Anyway, blogger Alan Fincher has produced a very smart PDF flyer which is here, so do have a look. For myself, I know that I shall be voting for Alan Fincher and Sue Cawson; people I know and respect very highly for their boating experience, communication skills and the values they hold regarding waterways priorities. As for any other preferences, I shall wait until those personal statements drop through the letterbox.

Until the list of candidates if officially published, there can be no winner of the great C&RT sweepstake. But I will say, it's looking good for Nick, so far...

More veg talk

2012-01-29T19:23:00.002Z

I was going to say that there hasn't been any boat-related activity today, but that would be wrong, because Jim cleaned out the back cabin. Now that Chertsey's cloths are in place, a lot of the stuff that was being stored in the back cabin has been transferred to the hold. So tomorrow I will try and get some decent pictures of the interior.

But for now, more vegetables. For a while it looked as if we weren't going to find a substitute for Geoff 'n' Col, purveyors of fine vegetables at Newhaven market. Supermarket veg is expensive and often unripe; things like tomatoes and avocadoes that are bred and stored for a long shelf life seem never to ripen, and supermarkets dare not keep ripe fruit and veg for fear of it going past its best and losing them money. There is a 'fine food' shop in Brewood which carries a few vegetables, but only a few and again, they are expensive.

But never fear, for in the wondrous cornucopia that is Cannock, we finally found Jessicas Fresh Foods, a greengrocers more like a market stall (and a sandwich shop attached, which we have never tried but which comes highly recommended by Blossom and dawn). The loveliest oranges, five for a pound. Last week, limes at 5p each (full of juice too); ripe baby plum tomatoes the like of which you would never find in a supermarket; fennel at a third of the price in Brewood. Marvellous crisp and tasty apples, better even than any we had down south.

So I am going to share another dinner with you, as it was a great hit. The tomatoes in particular were wonderful, full of intense flavour. I took two bulbs of fennel and a red onion (peeled) and cut them into slivers, which were tossed in olive oil in a baking tin. I halved the baby plum tomatoes and laid them cut side up on an oiled baking tray (there were enough to cover the surface). The fennel and onion went on the top shelf and the tomatoes the next shelf down in the oven at mark 6, for about an hour and a quarter. Turn the fennel over from time to time but leave the tomatoes alone. When they're done (slightly browned for the fennel; looking dry for the tomatoes) cook some wholemeal pasta shapes. When they're done add a drained tin of canellini beans to warm through (this is the protein). Drain thoroughly then tip everything into the biggest tin/pot and mix it all together. That's it. Though some goats cheese is a nice addition to this sort of thing.

Chilli evening

2012-01-28T21:17:00.002Z

Recipe corner again! No photo because we ate it (the chilli not the photo, which doesn't exist) instead but with the weather promising to get colder again (and nothing else to write about today) here is my recipe for vegan chilli. Which is splendid whatever your eating habits.

Fry a chopped onion and one red and one green pepper, also chopped, until soft. Add four crushed cloves of garlic, and fresh chillies, the amount of these depending on how big they are, how hot they are, and how hot you like your chilli. Stir in a tablespoon (yes, a tablespoon) each of paprika and ground cumin. Then add a tin of tomatoes and chop them roughly, and stir in a tin of rinsed kidney beans and a large squeeze of tomato puree. Simmer for a long time - at least an hour. Meanwhile, cook some rice, and peel and mash an avocado - it makes a brilliant topping for the chilli.

Mousie!

2012-01-27T16:54:00.003Z

Willow so enjoyed playing with my short splice, that by this morning it was reduced to six separate strands. So I tied some of them together to make him a new toy, which amused him for all of about two minutes.

Short and sweet

2012-01-26T21:19:00.002Z

My very first attempt at a short splice - its success rather spoiled by Willow getting hold of it and unravelling it from the other end, but take my word for it, it was actually very good.

Looking like a proper boat at last

2012-01-25T18:19:00.003Z

As Paul on Prince said. Made me wonder, when did Chertsey last have a full set of cloths on? My guess would be circa 1964.

Yes, at last today the rain stopped and the wind dropped for long enough for us to tackle the topcloths. In the end it was fairly straightforward, although terribly hard on the knees (mine). The positioning of the rings over the notches worked perfectly and hooking them from a kneeling position on the top planks was dead easy. Jim then slipped the hook in on the other side, balancing on the gunnel, braced against Bakewell, and helped pull it tight. I then improvised a tying up technique as best I could, based on a combination of instinct and half remembered examples from the Topcloth and Tippet video.

The cloths fit beautifully; there are four of them, each thirteen feet long, which allows for a foot overlap between them. The tippet however is in only three pieces, and the overlaps haven't lined up with the strings the way they have for the cloths, leaving an end or two flapping. The solution I think may be join the three tippet pieces together; traditionally I think it would have been in a single piece. For the time being I have joined the worst place with black gaffer tape. The tippet by the way is the narrow strip of cloth that goes on top along the top planks, to reduce wear on the cloths themselves.

Unlike traditional cloths, Chertsey's have eyelets in them. This will be useful for keeping the corners down (we went and bought a great deal of black elastic this afternoon) and may enable us to use them more flexibly. I decided to have them on a 'might as well/better safe than sorry' basis.

We hadn't quite made up enough strings, and it was interesting how we can now just nip in and make a couple up. I must say that the splicing had taken a lot less time and effort than I had anticipated. My eye splices have definitely improved with practice, and if you see Chertsey you can have fun working out which were earlier and which later efforts. My back splices too now are lovely although I do still need to refer to the diagram to get started. My next project is to attempt a short splice, whereby you join two lengths of rope together.

Brassed off

2012-01-24T15:45:00.003Z

It is a well known fact that if you don't polish brass, it goes yellow, then dull, then tarnished. The easiest way to keep it looking good is to polish it every day; that way it only takes minutes.

The process of degradation is speeded up considerably by heat and by exposure to moisture. So the brass bands on the chimney really have a hard time of it. I had got Chertsey's back up to a decent standard, by cleaning them every day, or as nearly as I could. I didn't try to get them shiny in one go, but after a few days, it became easier each time to remove the new layer of tarnish and make some inroads into the underlying ones, and last week they were looking pretty good.

I noticed some interesting things in the process. The tarnishing was far worse on the starboard side of the chimney, away from the outside of the boat. Is this because this side gets warmer, owing to the very slight tilt of the chimney? Or is it because the prevailing winds deposit more damp on it? After a damp night, this side would have a thick, soft layer of tarnish whilst the other remained almost untouched.

Then other things intervened, and the chimney got neglected for a few, damp, days - to quite stunning effect. The fresh layer of tarnish is so thick, verdigris-like, that it is peeling off on its own. I'm not sure the scaled down versions of the photos I took this morning will truly convey the effect, but on the big screen they look like photos of an oil painting, the chimney bands impasto, marked with brush or even knife strokes. It almost seems a shame to clean it off.

Licence talk is really boring isn't it

2012-01-22T18:53:00.003Z

There is probably something that is more boring to hear bloggers talking about than the process of licencing their boat, and that is hearing them talk about how they get online, and the problems they have with their dongle/software/internet provider. So I (rashly) promise I will never bore you with that (even though it is being 'interesting' at the moment), if you will bear with me for one last heartwarming licencing story, in which NOTHING GOES WRONG SHOCK HORROR!!!

Chertsey was licenced in June 2010, for the first time since 1983. You may recall it took quite a while to sort out, although this was mainly owing to my insistence on keeping its original five-digit index number. Bakewell's licence was due for renewal at the end of December. But here's the catch. A butty, with a nominated motor boat without which it never goes anywhere, gets a 50% discount, but only if both the motor's and the butty's licences run concurrently. I thought this was going to be a nightmare, and initially rang BW with a sinking heart. But no! The lovely Joelle worked out all the sums for me, and said that if I sent back Chertsey's old licence and applied for a refund, this would then be subtracted from the cost of the new licence and the butty licence, and a cheque for seven hundred and something pounds would sort me out til the end of next December. The sums included Bakewell's 50% butty discount, Chertsey's 10% historic discount (which Bakewell doesn't qualify for on account of being converted), and, somehow, the fact that Bakewell is registered as being under 70' long (well, I didn't want to confuse matters by arguing about it).

We picked the licences up at the post office the other day and are now not only legal but seen to be so. What's more, I now get two votes in the C&RT election! (If they ever get round to holding it.)

Cutting costs

2012-01-21T17:21:00.002Z

I had my hair cut in Cannock last week. It cost me £9.50. The same wash, cut and blow dry in Lewes cost £35. The cut is every bit as good, and the conversation was better. Thanks, Dawn, Lauren and Sian!

Stringing along

2012-01-20T19:37:00.002Z

It's been far too wet today to actually try and fit Chertsey's topcloths, but we have completed a fair few of the strings that will, hopefully, hold them in place. Some of our splicing was still a bit hit and miss, and some of the results not the prettiest, but whatever people think, at least we will be able to say that we did them ourselves.

Each string is about eighteen and a half feet long, with a hook attached by an eye splice at one end, a free hook running on the string, and a back splice at the other end. This is just one possible way of doing things. Originally, it seems (at least from watching 'Topcloth and Tippet') that the strings were spliced directly onto the rings along one side of the boat, and once passed over the top planks, were threaded through the rings on the other side. This of course requires you to have a hand at gunnel level; not so easy if you're out from the bank. Also, It was hard to keep the strings clean and tidy when not in use. So boatmen developed the innovation of hooks on the end of the strings. In this way, the strings could be put away when not required, and, when clothing up, with a bit of practice, the ring could be hooked from the top plank. The idea of a second hook, to hook the ring rather than threading through it on the other side, was not something I had seen done before, but I had thought about it, so when Pete suggested it, I didn't have any trouble agreeing. As it happens, we didn't actually have to do the splicing with the hooks in place, as they are 'S' hooks, crimped in place afterwards with Jim's largest slip jointed pliers.

Because I still couldn't get the hang of the crown knot (until I looked it up here), I concentrated on the eye splices; Jim, conversely, couldn't do eye splices to his satisfaction, so an efficient division of labour emerged, and by lunchtime we had completed fifteen strings. We will need slightly shorter (and possibly ceremonial cotton) ones for the cratch, and a couple of longer ones in which to fashion a loop to carry the long shaft, although I've no idea yet how that's done. We're using 10mm Hempex which is OK to work with, although the ends have a tendency to go fluffy and it's bloody hard to cut. It looks really good when it's done though, and is strong.

On the side

2012-01-19T20:31:00.004Z

Today at last Chertsey's cloths arrived, along with a set of top planks made by Pete Boyce, all delivered by him, and fitted with his help.

Firstly the sidecloths were unrolled along the gunnel. Chertsey's are in a single length along the whole of the boat, shaped at the front to accommodate the inward curve of the fore end. Some people have their sidecloths in two or three sections, so that separate areas can be rolled down, but we thought single ones would be fine for us. In the end we chose heavy duty pvc, as used for lorries' curtain sides, in preference to Regentex (expensive, and we've had mixed reports about its waterproof qualities), 'Top Gun' (looks good but very expensive) or traditional cotton canvas (leaks and rots). The pvc has a side which shows the weave of the reinforcing canvas, and I would have preferred this to be on the outside, but the cloths have been made with a less shiny, but textured outside surface. Never mind though, it only notices if you look really close up.

The sidecloths are attached to the gunnel with oak battens - screwed down in our case, although I think traditionally they would have been nailed (and would have been elm). The edge of the cloth slightly overlaps the inside edge of the gunnel, and the batten is flush with it. The outside top edge of the batten is chamfered to avoid excessive wear where the cloth is pulled over it.

Before pulling the sidecloths up into place, Jim attached the rings for the topcloth strings, positioning them over the notches in the gunnel he made last week. Then I attached lengths of (temporary, I hasten to add) blue string to the eyelets all along one side of the sidecloths.

Meanwhile, Pete and Jim were positioning the top planks, and cutting the foremost one to fit. We were delighted that the height of the stands, the back end beam, and (after a little adjustment) the mast meant the top planks ended up beautifully level. Thanks are also due to Adrian (now of Warrior) who measured the lengths for each plank - they were dead right (of course!).

Once the top planks were laid in place, 'uprights' were inserted between them and the gunnels, to provide support between the stands and extra rigidity. 'Upright' is a bit of a misnomer, as they actually fit at about forty five degrees. Chertsey came with four original uprights, each stamped with their position (P1, P2, S4 etc) and a Grand Union Fleet number. Maybe in the past these got swapped about, because we have one numbered 130 Chertsey), one 134 (Carnaby) and two 101 (Aber). We tried using these but only one fitted - amazingly, it was the one that was originally Chertsey's. Pete trimmed the Carnaby one to fit also, so we have two original GU uprights (the stands are marked with GU fleet numbers too), but the two 101s were not in good enough condition to use, so the remainder were made new.

Once all this was in place, the sidecloth strings were thrown over the planks, through the cloths then other side, back over and tied tightly, holding it all in place. We unrolled one of the topcloths for a look, but as we didn't have the strings made up for them yet, we rolled it up again. Tonight we are a hive of sore fingered splicing industry, as we get on with making them - this time properly, in 10mm hempex. So here's hoping the wind drops so we can have a go at fitting the topcloths tomorrow.

Slow cooker

2012-01-18T17:38:00.003Z

Having bought a 56lb bag of potatoes (£4) from the splendid, local, Whitegates Farm Shop, we thought we'd better set about using them, seeing as we'd never had so many before. Very nice they looked too, with a good mix of sizes and just enough dirt to show they're real. And, seeing that I have been keeping Chertsey's Epping going 24 hours a day - sixteen days now since I lit it - to keep the cabin warm and dry (which has been very successful) it occurred to me that I could be utilising some of that heat for other ends too, so today I popped a couple of nice big potatoes in the oven, having first rubbed them with olive oil and sea salt (you can take the girl out of the south...) and scored a cross in the top (easier than pricking it to let the steam out, and makes it easier to cut open too). My thermomenter said the oven temperature was around 130 degrees C, and I left them in for about five hours. Although I'm sure they were cooked through well before that, it didn't do them any harm; indeed, it was one of the nicest baked potatoes I've had.

Slow cookers seem to be all the rage again at the moment so I shall have to see what else I can cook in mine (although 130 isn't actually all that slow, I know).

And (very slightly) drunk with Hairy Neil

2012-01-17T17:10:00.002Z

I'll say this, living on the boats is certainly improving our social life. Most of our friends, by quite a long way, are boaty people, and as such are far more more likely to drop by now than they ever were to be passing the south coast. Last night Hairy Neil, hero of Chertsey's homecoming from the Trent, dropped in en route from Aberystwith to Slough. He arrived at half past nine (pm), and it was absolutely freezing, so naturally we headed into Brewood and back to the Swan, a really excellent pub - the fact that it was packed out on a Monday night being testimony to this. I'm sure no one else got even slightly drunk, but two and a half pints of Directors followed by half a bottle of Old Empire on our return is certainly enough to make me quite mellow... Anyway, we had a lovely evening, chatting until nearly two o'clock. Neil then got to try out the guest room, aka Bakewell's back cabin, with an airbed on the crossbed, and a large collection of tools and toolboxes hurriedly stowed in every available space, and was up and gone again at six. In the course of his departure, Willow slipped out, and then came and found me on Chertsey, so we had a nice little lie in until it was light.

Getting spliced with Blossom

2012-01-15T20:22:00.003Z

As promised, Blossom and Dawn came to visit today. We enjoyed tea and buns and catching up with plenty of chat; a tour of Bakewell and a look at Chertsey's paintwork... But at some point we also mentioned that we had once again found that the art of splicing had slipped our minds - despite our having been shown, and grasped it, twice, so Blossom patiently spent a great deal of time tutoring us in it again. I still haven't quite mastered the crown knot, but my actual splicing turned out neatly enough. Jim meanwhile appears to be moving onto advanced decorative ropework so we should soon be self sufficient in strings, droppers and various dangly bits. Just as long as we keep practising this time and don't forget for a third time.

On a cold and frosty morning

2012-01-14T21:17:00.003Z

This is the way we play with our new camera...

Sadly have had to reduce the file size quite considerably to stand any chance of uploading them though.

Top notch

2012-01-13T19:05:00.003Z

Today in anticipation of Chertsey's cloths being fitted tomorrow, Jim made the notches in the gunnels, above which the rings for the topcloths sit. These notches seem to serve two puroposes; to make it possible to catch a ring with a hook whilst standing on the top plank, and (this is something I thought of myself) to thread the end of a string through one-handed. On some boats, the rings sit down inside larger scallops, but this seemed to me to be less useful, so rightly or wrongly, I've gone for a notch that, hopefully, the ring will sit flat above, stapled to the gunnel and flush with or just behind its edge.

Jim cut the notches with an angle grinder, amidst much smoke and smouldering oak. There are 28 of them. In total, there are going to be eighteen top strings, four at 13" intervals on the cratch, and the remainder at 3' intervals. This concurs with the drawing I have, which is admittedly for a butty, but apart from the longer hold I don't know why it would be different, which specifies 3' intervals and 15" on the cratch (we were a few inches short once we got to the front, hence Chertsey's being 13" here). It also fits what I have been told by other people (some have said that they can, and should, be even less - 28"). But the mysterious thing is that when you look at old photos of GU motor boats, they only seem to have 13 top strings aft of the cratch, suggesting a wider spacing. There are fewer notches than strings because those at the front, where the gunnels widen and curve in, are set further in and not on the edge.

We drove ourselves mad finishing before the light went (Jim had to go to Screwfix for a new grinder as his old one had broken ages ago), and finally, having got some bitumen on the cut wood, retired indoors to practice our splicing, only to get a message from Pete to say that he can't come tomorrow after all. So it will be Thursday now before Chertsey finally gets smartened up.

A night out in Brewood

2012-01-12T10:08:00.003Z

For a relatively small place, Brewood has an enormous entry on Wikipedia. Someone is obviously very enthusiastic about the place - and not without good reason; it's very nice and clearly there are lots of interesting things to explore.

Last night we made a start, with a talk, hosted by the Civic Society, by (they put this very proudly on the poster) the local raconteur. well, he didn't sound very local - exceedingly plummy in fact - but he was indeed an excellent raconteur. The talk was about the Tudor housebuilding boom in the wake of the dissolution of the monasteries, not a subject I would have put top of my list of interests, but Richard Field's enthusiasm, especially for the architecture, was infectious and we thoroughly enjoyed it.

The talk was preceded by a brief report on matters of interest to the Civic Society, particularly reports on recent planning applications, and followed by a preview of a charity fundraising 'safari supper'; a variation on the 'progressive dinner', and a good idea, in which groups of people eat their first course in one person's house and dessert in another, getting together beforehand for aperitifs and after for coffee and cake. The only odd thing was that tickets were for sale in pairs - are there no single people in Brewood, or are they simply not welcome at the safari supper?

Before descending on the Methodist Church (and it was packed out; the normal venue of the Jubilee Hall being unavailable because of heating problems) we dropped into the Swan for a pint of Directors. It's a very nice pub; five beers and open log fires. So much so that we popped in again afterwards, for another pint and an indulgent packet of pork scratchings, by which time it was deservedly busy. It was Wolverhampton CAMRA's pub of the year 2010, and their village pub of 2011.

Conversation (bemusingly) overheard on the next table:

'Where are your main markets then?'

'Walsall, mainly, then India, and the Far East.'

I like it here.

With a name like that...

2012-01-10T19:58:00.002Z

What other job could he do?

I think I have come across one of the best ever examples of a person with an appropriate name for their job.

You might be aware of the sudden closure of then Tring summit owing to water loss issues. I saw an email about this yesterday, with contact details for the person in the South East Business unit with responsibility for it. His name is Lee King.

A bit of demystification

2012-01-09T16:22:00.002Z

Following some of the recent comments about the use of the Single Transferable Vote system for the C&RT Council elections, I decided to go off and give myself a refresher course in order to try and demystify it and, hopefully, lay to rest a myth or two. I won't try and explain how it works, because there is a really good explanation on Wikipedia here, which, it has to be said, puts the Electoral Reform Society's website to shame.

The first myth that needs challenging is that under STV you only get one vote, whereas under FPTP (first past the post) you get as many votes as there are seats. In fact, under STV, you get to express as many preferences as you like, up to the total number of candidates. What's more, you can differentiate subtly between them, whereas under FPTP you have to pick four (if the C&RT elections were held on this basis) as if you liked them all equally, and reject all the others.

Under STV, it's true, your votes don't all count equally; your first preference carries more weight than your second preference, and so on down your list, but overall, that gives a result that more closely reflects the wishes of the electorate, and your own preferences too. And of course, under FPTP, it is perfectly possible that none of your votes will count at all, whereas under STV you can be certain that they all have weight.

Take an example in which there are ten candidates for four seats, and a total of 10,000 votes are cast. Under FPTP, you vote for Albert, Bill, Charlotte and Denise, but Gus, Henrietta, Ignatious and Jane are elected. Your four votes have all been completely wasted; you might as well not have bothered filling in the ballot paper. Furthermore, say Jane needed 800 votes to get elected (don't forget that under FPTP, especially if there is a large field of candidates, it is perfectly possible, indeed likely, that people will win a seat on the basis of a very small share of the vote), but she actually got 3000. That means that 2,200 of those votes were also wasted; they didn't count.

Under STV however, if you vote for a candidate who is eliminated because they have too few first preference votes to be elected, then your second preference vote will be counted, and so on. Likewise, if your first preference candidate is elected with votes to spare, your second preference will be counted and so on. The way in which surplus votes are redistributed varies, but with computerised counting systems it is now possible to redistribute surplus votes in proportion to the second (or subsequent) preferences expressed in all the votes counted, not just a random selection of ballot papers.

STV encourages positive voting, voting for the candidates you want to win; it makes negative and tactical voting not only difficult, but unnecessary. It militates against party (or other group) domination and is fairer to individual and independent candidates.

It is not a purely proportional system, although in a party based election, where constituencies are large enough, it will produce a reasonably proportional result, and certainly more so than FPTP, but that isn't its only, or even its primary advantage. It is its fairness between candidates, and the accuracy with which it reflects the electorate's wishes, that makes STV the best system for the C&RT Council elections.

Point of order Mr Chairman

2012-01-07T22:07:00.001Z

Today we had a day out. We went to Tamworth for a HNBOC (that's the Historic Narrowboat Owners Club) committee meeting. It began at ten, with a pre-meeting to discuss media strategy and my role as press officer, with the meeting proper beginning at eleven and ending at half past five. There was a break for lunch though, and it was all very enjoyable and congenial.

One thing that was decided was that we should nominate Sue Cawson as an 'official' HNBOC candidate for the C&RT Council. This is another nomination I am more than happy to recommend. Many people outside historic boating circles will not have heard of Sue, but she has been boating solidly for decades and it is probably fair to say that no one has a better knowledge of the system and where there are problems and obstacles to navigation... Not only does she have first hand experience, but as HNBOC's navigation officer, she receives reports whenever there are issues affecting navigation, and would be another really strong and well informed voice for boaters.

So... we got back to the boats morebthan ten hours after leaving, and... both stoves were still going, Bakewell's Squirrel and Chertsey's Epping. We wondered why Willow wasn't going mad having been shut in all day, until I noticed that I'd left the bathroom window open, and the muddy pawprints on the basin and bath suggested thatbhe had in fact been coming and going at will all day.

Bugger Blogger (and vote for Alan Fincher!)

2012-01-06T16:25:00.001Z

Well, Blogpress actually. It ate my post again last night... Said it had posted successfully, showed me the post... but when I go to look at the blog again, it's not there, and not saved by Blogpress either.

Anyway, what I posted last night was my endorsement of Alan Fincher's candidacy for one of the four boater seats on the C&RT Council. I know other bloggers are standing, and yet other bloggers have endorsed them on the basis of their blogs, but I wouldn't be doing this if I didn't know Alan personally, which I do, and I believe that he would be an independent minded, strong voice with great attention to detail and dogged determination to the boater's cause, with years of boating experience spread over decades and a real commitment to listen to his constituency. Not that I expct anyone to act solely on the basis of my recommendation, so have a look at his blog here and see what you think.

I'll be giving Alan my first preference vote and wish him every success.

Welcome to Willow's wonderful world 2

2012-01-04T19:11:00.001Z

The Bathroom

Willow doesn't himself have much interest in the bathroom, especially as 'it doesn't even have a proper toilet you can drink out of', but he recognises the importance of providing little luxuries when it comes to recruiting and retaining high quality staff. Housekeeper Sarah is delighted with the facilities. 'This is the first boat I've ever had where you could actually have a proper shower', she enthuses. 'It feels terribly decadent'. The water is heated by the back boiler on the Squirrel stove, via a simple convection system which also runs a heated pipe through the bathroom.

Jim, Willow's general factotum and personal grooming assistant, has made a few minor adjustments, today, for example, repairing the bath taps so that the cold tap can actually be used - a necessity now that the water is getting properly hot. He has also fitted some new towel rails - Willow understands that humans can never have too many of these, and anyway, they were in the bargain bin at B&Q - a new shower curtain rail, a rail to stop bottles slipping off the shelf, and another on the ceiling from which to suspend small items of washing. Willow licks his feet and looks on indulgently at this strange necessity.

Boat bathrooms are of course notoriously difficult to photograph, and these little snaps really don't do it justice.

Terribly cosy

2012-01-03T20:40:00.001Z

In the light of the somewhat extreme condensation in Chertsey's cabin, I decided that sleeping without the stove lit was not an option, no matter how mild the night - especially as mild nights are usually accompanied by damp, if not downright wet, weather. Yesterday started dry and bright, with a stiff breeze, so I got the mattress out on the cabin top, attached to various anchors at a number of points, to give it a good airing.

Meanwhile I got down to giving the cabin its first really good clean since Torksey, blacked the cold stove, washed down the paraffin-sooted walls, shook out the rugs, swept the floor, cleaned all the bowls, buckets and bins, and removed the supply of firelighting rags which were imbuing the place with rather too distinctive an odour of diesel and white spirit. Just the brass left to do. Then, yesterday afternoon I lit the stove, and have managed, so far, to keep it ticking over very slowly since. So slowly that the cabin did not get unpleasantly hot last night, but just warm and dry. Long may I manage to maintain this feat! The cabin is certainly a much more pleasant place to be now, day or night.

In a disgusting orgy of domesticity, I have spent today knitting - I started an Aran jumper for number 2 son just prior to Christmas 2010, aiming to have it finished for his birthday in February. After a number of setbacks and discouragements, culminating in unravelling it and starting again, having concluded that it was going to come out too small, I started again at the beginning of this winter. One and a bit sleeves are complete, and tonight I finished the back, so getting it to him for his birthday this year is looking a distinct possibility. Meanwhile Jim has been baking bread, now that we have a lovely little freezer to keep it in... No more medium sliced for us now!

Is taking your own toilet roll as bad as buying your own drinks?

2012-01-02T18:53:00.001Z

'She's the sort of person who buys her own drinks' - a withering put-down of someone who doesn't stand their round, because, basically, they think they'll be better off if they don't; they're not planning to stay long, or they're only drinking halves, so why should they buy drinks for eveyone else when they won't get the equivalent back in return? The reason they should, of course, is that it's what you do; it's central to English (British?) pub culture. It's an acknowledgement that, in this context, you are not just a self-interested individual but part of a larger community, even if that community is just you and a couple of mates. It recognises that this isn't a one-off occasion, but part of a continuum, in which unequal contributions can be evened out over time; again, part of something bigger than the individual and the moment. It's a homage to tradition; a rite by which we identify ourselves with a particular heritage. Buying your own drinks is a certain kind of meanness which passes itself off as the opposite but's more than that; it's a stand-offishness, a refusal to fully become part of the group.

So... there's a toilet here at the yard. Not a bad one, in fact, as these things go. Not as clean as it might be, of course, but spacious and most importantly, warm. Now, when there's a toilet on the bank, a boat dweller will use it at every opportunity, to avoid too frequent filling and consequent emptying of the on board facilities. As toilets around the system vary in the level of cleanliness and facilities they offer, I always carry with me a 'toilet bag' containing among other vital accoutrements, a toilet roll and a pack of Parazone (or equivalent) wipes. Paranoid I may be, but itnmakes me happy.

The loo here is used by the people working here and other moorers, when there are any. Sometimes there's a loo roll there and sometimes there isn't. When there is, it's impossible to know who's provided it. Because sometimes there isn't one, I always take my bag with me (well, it might need a clean anyway). So, when there is a roll there, should I use that one, or my own? If I use the one that's there, then I am honour bound at some stage to provide a replacement. But if I always use my own, then I don't have to worry about it. As I thought this through, I realised that there is a real parallel with the pub scenario. I could just look out for myself, and not owe anyone anything. Or I could be part of the wider community, using, and providing, the communal resources, without worrying too much about whether it's my turn, or if I'm providing more sheets than the next person. And I realised the answer it clear - next time I must leave the roll behind when I leave.

Eight hours

2012-01-01T19:41:00.001Z

... of daylight in every twenty four at this time of year. Just knowing that makes it easier to deal with, husbanding each precious minute jealously, not being caught unawares by the encroaching dusk. It makes you think, what jobs need to be done in daylight, and which can be left until after dark. It makes you realise that you shouldn't try to achieve as much in a short winter's day as you might in a long summer's one.

Now, at least, the days are getting longer, minute by minute, day by day, although the most miserable doldrums of the winter are yet to come, unrelieved by the fiery festivities of November and December. It's a long, miserable slog to March now; things improving, but imperceptibly. T.S. Eliot thought that April, with its promise of new life and hope, was the cruellest month, but I love its promise of warmth and light; the first gentle touch of the warm sun on my back. Summer, Braunston, seems so far away at this time of year, the past a barely remembered dream; the future something we dare not imagine. Yet we know that it will come; not what form it will take, or what we will be doing; not even, these days, what the weather will be like. But as long as the earth keeps turning, and stays in its orbit, the days will get longer, and summer will come again.

To market, to market

2011-12-31T20:36:00.001Z

This morning we finally got around to visiting the much feted Penkridge market. It may not have been at its best or busiest this time of year, but was a trifle disappointing simply because we had been led to expect great things. Lots and lots of the sort of clothes you only see at markets; lots of work clothes and warm fleecy shirts, some hardware, one veg stall and a very big, very flash meat lorry. We decided that on the whole we would be better off carrying on getting our veg at Coopers in Brewood.

I lifted Chertsey's mattress up this morning to give it an airing and was somewhat horrified to discover just how wet it was underneath, where the foam mattress lays on the solid base of the bed flap. When Ed was here he explained how on Bakewell, he actually replaced the flap with a slatted section when using the bed regularly. I didn't want to start taking Chertsey apart like that, but it gave me an idea, so for today's project, Jim made three slatted sections that sit on top of the existing cross bed, designed and made to allow the maximum circulation of air underneath the mattress. All is now in place and tonight I will test it for comfort. The weather has been so mild that Chertsey's stove hasn't been lit for a few days, which probably didn't help the condensation situation.

Tonight, in anticipation of Chertsey's cloths finally being finished before too long, we watched 'Topcloth and Tippet', a DVD showing Atlas and Leo being clothed up, paying particular attention to the knots.

Many thanks for all the comments about the Paloma. For simplicity's sake, it will probably end up being a new Morco, but we will have a look at the Paloma man on ebay once we have a better internet connection.

Social whirl

2011-12-30T21:48:00.001Z

Today we had a visit from the Moomins, Simon and Ann, who moor at Bill Fen. We had mulled wine (a special version with port and ginger wine to eke out the red left over from Christmas dinner) and buns from Jaspers bakery in Penkridge, followed by lunch at the Bridge. This pub is under new management again, and appears to be a Marstons house now, which I don't recall it being before. Sadly the Old Empire wasn't on, but that might have been a bit much at lunch, so I had Cocker Hoop. Despite being a Marstons pub, it isn't one of their chain eateries, and there was a new chef just in post. The prices were very reasonable with many main courses under £6 and the most expensive, the rump steak, at £8.90. We all agreed that it was pretty good too.

Moomin also very kindly listened to our noisy Victron and diagnosed a likely cause, told us how to get the dongle to work (by getting a later version of Ubuntu), and even downloaded for us, via his phone, the plug in we needed to play DVDs, so we then spent a happy hour this evening watching a couple of episodes of Porridge. This really does seem to have stood the test of time; I couldn't believe it was made in 1974. I appreciated things about it that I hadn't noticed first time around, like the wonderful architecture (I must look up where it was filmed), and the fact that Godber (I always had a soft spot for him; I wonder how many people can remember what they were doing when they heard that Richard Beckinsale had died? I was in a science lesson) was from the Black Country.

Una Paloma blank blank blank

2011-12-29T19:19:00.001Z

When Ed visited yesterday he brought with him a spare Paloma from his shed. Although it was tatty on the outside when we got the cover off its innards looked like new, and certainly in much better condition than the leaky one we've got, so it was with high hopes that Jim set about swapping them. No easy task of course, with both gas and water connections, and the flue to line up, and the whole thing mounted with very awkwardly placed screws. On top of that, the water connections were slightly different and had to be adapted. Still, after a couple of hours it was done, and with some trepidation Jim opened the isolating valve and I switched the water pump on... to find even more water pouring out than the old one, in exactly the same place. Bugger.

It'll have to be a new one then... Deja vue here; exactly the same happened with Andante. As Palomas are no longer made, pipes will have to be moved to fit a different model. On Andante we went for a Morco, but I never liked it; it never lit straight away when you turned the tap on, but after a brief delay, caught with a little whoomph outbof the hole in the front case. I never liked that for reason. On Tarporley they have a Vaillant; until I saw it I hadn't realised that this company, who make high quality domestic boilers (I've had one and was very impressed with it) also made LPG water heaters. But I've had no luck tracking down stockists - can anyone help me with that? I imagine that a Vaillant, if I can track one down, will, like its domestic counterpart, not be cheap, but could be worth paying extra for. Failing that it looks like a Morco or a Rinnai - does anyone have any recommendations?

A visitor

2011-12-28T20:20:00.001Z

Today we had our first visitor on Bakewell - the boat's previous owner, who came all this way to give us the paperwork and a spare Paloma to replace the leaky part. It's always weird going back to a boat you used to own, once someone else has taken it over, but I hope Ed felt that Bakewell was being well cared for. We were actually late for our appointment with him, as we spent too long in Midland Chandlers selecting a reading light and a new switch for the shower pump.

This afternoon we finally made the decision to throw out the very venerable gas fridge and replace it with a 240v one. I have nothing against gas fridges in principle but this particular one was very old and not in good condition. A new, decent, gas one would be rather expensive, and they do (I am told by Carl the caravanner) get through gas at a fair rate. Previously we have had 12v fridges, on Andante and on Warrior, and have been very happy with them; Andante's was bought second hand and Warrior's came with the boat. For Bakewell, the far greater cost of a 12v fridge just doesn't make sense; in the absence of an engine, the battery can only be charged through a 240v shoreline anyway, so our ability to use a 12v fridge when away from shore power would be so limited as not to be worth the extra cost; we might as well make use of the shore power directly when it's available, and do without (which we know from experience on Chertsey we can) when it isn't. So we have been down to Comet in Cannock and ordered a nice Lec fridge with a four star freezer compartment, for keeping Jim's wonderful hand made bread in, and we shall be collecting it on Monday.

Willow, by the way, has been going out and successfully coming back for a few days now, albeit only when we're around and only while it's light. The fresh air and exercise seems to have improved his appetite; inconveniently his taste for the outdoor life leads him to spend much of the night pacing about, waking Jim up, and pulling all the curtains and blinds about. Yesterday he encountered Charlie the whippet for the first time. Luckily his instinct wasn't to run, but he retreated to the gunnell (so he's already sussed what is his territory), stood his ground and hissed. Later he did make a run for it and scaled a weeping willow at warp speed, but he got himself down again without a problem, so that's another escape option open to him if need be.

Most overrated? P.D. James

2011-12-27T16:03:00.001Z

Just why is Baronness Phyllis Dorothy James so highly regarded as an author of detective fiction? Her plotting is mediocre and her plots outlandish; her characters are ciphers who strain credulity and are completely unengaging, and her dialogue clunks with exposition, moralising and amateur philosophising, while her hobby horses gallop all over the page. In P.D. James world, in 2003, women wear woollen blouses, police officers discuss whether they think a couple are 'going to bed' (for someone who is so coy about sex, she mentions it frequently, mostly quite gratuitiously to the plot) and everyone has a gas fire.

Now I've got that off my chest, I'm going to see whether 'Death in Holy Orders' can possibly be as bad as 'The Murder Room'.

Meek and mild

2011-12-26T17:46:00.001Z

I realised this morning that yesterday was the first Christmas day since 1984 that I spent without an offspring or two in tow. They seemed to manage ok without me.

Meanwhile, I have Willow to worry about. He went for his first outing yesterday, stalking about very cautiously, and dashing back to the boat when startled, which must be a good sign.

Today he was more adventurous and stalked further afield, but still keeping us in sight.

He had his Christmas dinner yesterday, and seemed to enjoy it. We were able to open the table out in the back end (usually a sort of office) to have a proper sit down dinner.

And then he had a nap.

Today we set to work on Chertsey. The cloths are apparently finally in the process of being made, so we need to clear the hold out to provide access all the way along each side for fitting them. So, Jim having mended the bilge pump, he finished pumping out the hold, and then we tackled the tent, or shanty town, as it had become, where Jim (and latterly Paul) had been sleeping. For 20 quids' worth from B&M bargains it has done a good job, albeit shored up with further layers of heavy duty polythene. Then we dashed back in to listen to Brain of Britain and to be horrified and depressed at the declining standards of general knowledge exhibited.

Meek and mild of course has been the weather. I wonder what will become of the hard winter that was forecast earlier in the year.

A VERY HAPPY CHRISTMAS

2011-12-25T15:47:00.001Z

From all aboard Chertsey and Bakewell

Winter raincoat and winter warmer

2011-12-24T20:50:00.001Z

It would have been better to have done it on Thursday, before yesterday's downpour, but today Jim sheathed Bakewell's cabin in heavy duty grey polythene, to keep the rain out for the rest of the winter. It should still be well enough ventilated to enable it to dry out, especially as there is (whisper it) a radiator in there, discreetly tucked behind the stove, which while it never gets quite hot, being at the far end of the system, keeps a decent background warmth, and in any case, the back cabin is well ventilated to the rest of the boat.

The heating system on Bakewell is simple but extremely effective. A back boiler on the squirrel towards the front of the boat heats a pipe that runs its whole length, culminating in that radiator, and a calorifier, so we now have constant hot water too. It's all done by gravity/convection, so requires no electricity. I'm only afraid we might get used to this soft life.

Today we picked up our Christmas dinner - a local gamey meaty treat - from the very local Whitegates Farm Shop. This looks like a brilliant place - we have popped in before and hadvsome fantastic stuff. But it will remain an occasional treat. Tonight it's another veggie/vegan recipe; one of my favourites, and loosely inspired by the steak and mushroom pudding my mother used to make (I suspect my father refused to eat kidney), only without the boiling. Or the steak.

Sausage and mushroom suet crust pie:

Fry (in an casserole dish) one chopped onion, and add six or so sausages (I like Cauldron), cut into bite sized chunks. Fry these gently until they're browned. Then add some mushrooms; I used a 500g pack of chestnut ones, cut into similar sized chunks to the sausages. Continue frying until the mushrooms start to soften. Then make the gravy. The easiest way I find to do this is to add some boiling water to the pan, just enough to covet the contents and let it come to the boil. In a cup, mix up a crumbled Oxo cube (it's ok, even the beef ones don't actually have any animal in them) and a couple of teaspoons of Bisto with cold water, then add this to the pan and stir it quickly in, keeping stirring while it thickens and comes back to the boil. You can then let it simmer a bit while you make the pastry. Oh, and add a dask or two of Henderson's relish if you can get it (thanks Adrian and Linda!)
or Worcestershire sauce if you're not too precious about the odd anchovie.

For the pastry, mix 8oz self raising flour with 4oz veg suet and a big pinch of salt, then add enough cold water to bind it together. Roll it out and shape it to fit the dish, cut a steam hole in the middle and lay it on top of the filling. Bake at mark 5 for about 45 minutes until the top is golden, and serve with steamed greens.

Welcome to my lovely home

2011-12-23T20:24:00.001Z

Part 1: The Kitchen

In the first of a new series, Willow shows readers around his luxurious new floating home.

We have hardly had to do anything to the kitchen, says, Sarah, Willow's housekeeper. We have filled up the cupboards with Whiskas and Go-Cat (leaving room for a few chick peas), and have added toggles to stop the drawers flying open. In the longer term, we need to repair or replace the Paloma, which appears to have suffered frost damage while the boat was unoccupied, but the previous owner has a spare which he has promised us. We will also probably replace the fridge, which is rather ancient and unhygenic looking. Whilst we've nothing in principle against gas fridges, and on a boat without an engine they are probably a very good idea, we are considering 12v or even 240v, as I suspect that most of the time we are on the butty we will have access to shorepower; i.e. we will probably not be dragging it around on our travels. But we have the winter to consider that. None of this is of much interest to Willow, however.

The kitchen is bright and airy, with a two large windows, a houdini hatch, and a hardwood door leading into the cratch, which Willow soon hopes to be able to open for himself, as he has carefully observed that the top half opens independently. For the time being however, he prefers to observe his domain through the window.

Hot and cold

2011-12-22T20:29:00.001Z

Another successful day (boring, boring) with the exception of trying to go to Penkridge market and discovering that it's held on Wednesdays and Saturdays; I don't know where we got the idea it was Thursdays. Funny place, Penkridge. Lots of hairdressers and not much soul, although there is a splendid bakery, Jaspers, where a vast array of wonderful and very reasonably priced cakes, buns and pastries (and chocolate coated flapjack) may be purchased. Other than that, I prefer Brewood.

Now it is my wont, come bedtime, to retire to Chertsey's back cabin, where, having previously lit the fire and set a kettle of water on the stove, I enjoy the ritual of washing in the handbowl, the cabin by now being marvellously warm. Last night though this proved a little too successful; the ambient temperature was so mild, and my fire so successful, that it was far too hot to go to sleep until well after midnight, and only then after lying with the doors open for a while. (Not that I am complaining about the mildness mind; far from it. And today was beautiful, and we finally got Chertsey's hold pumped out and the willow leaves swept off both boats).

Tonight I am trying a different tack. A mild night is forecast again, so I haven't lit the stove - instead I shall rely solely on Lionel the hot water bottle (in the form of a lion; rescued from a jumble sale floor for 10p and as loyal a bedmate as anyone could wish for). Of course the proof will come in the chill of the morning, but I will try and toughen up (I was once described by an old lady with whom I worked as a 'hot house flower' and I don't think it was meant as a compliment).

The whole of Bakewell is tidy now, and there are still some empty cupboards! Hooray! And as tonight's impromptu plant based dinner was such a success I couldn't resist photographing it, and here it is.

Spinach and chick pea curry:
Fry two sliced onions until soft, add two dessertspoons of curry paste (Madras in this case) and a bag of spinach, roughly chopped. Stir in a drained tin of chickpeas. Cook gently until spinach has gone all soggy. Stir in three quarters of a tub of left over hummous (optional). Serve with brown rice and a drizzle of tamarind sauce (Smethwick impulse purchase).

Willow notices the outside world

2011-12-21T20:28:00.001Z

Another very successful day today as we are really starting to get sorted out and settled in. The problem with the Victron was nothing to do with damp after all; it seems as if the unit was detecting a drop in the 240 voltage and trying to switch to the inverter, but because the battery was flat, this was setting off the alarm and resulting in the fluctuating voltage in the boat. Whether this was a genuine problem with the 240 supply (we were at the time plugged into our neighbour's rather Heath Robinson arrangement) or a fault with the unit, I don't know, because now the battery is charged it might be doing it every five minutes and we wouldn't notice. I thought there was something wrong with it again this afternoon, and was all set to panic, but it turned out that the bulb had gone in the lamp I was trying to switch on... Never forget to consider the simplest explanation!

This morning began with a visit to the wonderful Kelsalls, builders merchant and ironmongers extraordinaire, for various supplies, and then Jim finished building his bed, immediately creating masses of storage space underneath it, which meant that we could unpack even more bags. I also shipped a lot of my stuff across to Chertsey. Then we got some pictures up, and I set about the Christmas decorations, viz. a bunch of holly with some LED lights and some baubles on it. Very trendy even if I do say so myself.

(grainy iPad photo)

Willow, mainwhile, seems to have settled in straight away and got down to some serious sleeping. I don't know whether it's the trauma of the journey of just delight at having got the undivided attention of two humans, but he's a different cat; docile and affectionate... We're keeping him in pro tem, partly so that he gets used to it, but also so as to avoid a run-in with the whippet currently living next door. I'm not sure who would come off worse but suspect it might not be pretty. However, it was only a matter of time before he noticed that there is a world out there, so we are very assiduously keeping the doors shut for now.

Farewell to Newhaven

2011-12-19T21:41:00.001Z

I moved to Newhaven on December 13th 1986. It was to be twenty five years and six days before I left, at midday today. More than half my life spent in a dying town. When I moved there Newhaven had a thriving fishing fleet; a busy freight port; a number of major manufacturers, including the Parker Pen company; a sandy beach, and, in the town centre, two butchers, two greengrocers, a wet fish shop, and a marvellous rambling independent hardware shop/ironmongers. Not one of those still exists.

So, today was the day we finally packed up and left, pausing only to spend forty pounds on a new travelling basket for Willow, having got tne old one out and realised that he would barely squeeze into it, let alone have a reasonably comfortable journey. So it was off to the new out of town pet emporium to be fleeced for a couple of bits of moulded plastic and a metal grille... because he's worth it.

He complained a bit on the journey, but not much, and once we got onto Bakewell, immediately identified the armchair nearest the stove, settled down in it, and hasn't moved since.

As for us, well, it was dark when we arrived so our activities were somewhat limited. Jim began by dismantling the bunk beds in what is to be his room - a perfect 6'6 x 4' - discovering in the process that they had probably been assembled first and then had the room built round them. A screwdriver proved inadequate to the task and a saw had to be deployed, resulting in more firewood.

The other significant task was to plug in the 240v landline, whichnwe have never used before. We used the inverter last month when we were moving Bakewell, and the 240 circuit seems fine, but there seems to be some sort of problem with the landline/charger, which we suspect is down to damp, the electric cupboard being located against the wet back cabin bulkhead. So it's been an evening by torchlight, but both Bakewell and Chertsey's back cabin are now lovely and warm and things will hopefully soon all be dry and aired.

Tomorrow we go to Brewood, as locals this time rather than visitors, to set up a poste restante, and to find the vegetable shop that Futurest blogged about a few weeks ago. Then we will investigate the electrics, and unpack and sort stuff out. Once it's tidy, I might even get out a few Christmas decorations.

Looks like I get two votes!

2011-12-18T19:39:00.001Z

Thanks to Alan Fincher for tracking down this rather obscure FAQ about the forthcoming C&RT Council elections on the Waterscape site.

Unlike some other bloggers, I was aware that the elections were being conducted by the Electoral Reform Society (it does say say so on the invitation to stand which was sent out a couple of weeks ago) and having participated in many elections organised by them in the past, I have no worries that the election will be fair and well organised.

I am also pleased to see that the election will be conducted by Single Transferable Vote. Back when I was a member of the Liberal Party and the Electoral Reform Society, I recall that our rallying cry was somewhat slow to catch on: What do we want? Single Transferable Vote in Multi Member Constituencies! When do we want it? Well, once the House of Commons has been reformed, constituency boundaries redrawn, and the voting punlic educated....

I am not as pleased as might be expected to see this:
'... For fairness and practicality, the election is on the basis of one vote per licence.' People who jointly own a boat should '... agree how your vote is used with your partner'

In the interests of practicality, maybe; it is hard to see how anything else could be done. But fairness? That airy statement about agreeing with your partnerbis far too glib - partners often disagree about many things, and this may call forth conflicting personal loyalties. And what about shared ownership boats, where there are not just two partners, but a dozen or more.

And this seems to confirm what I had wondered about - as the holder of two licences, it would appear that I (and indeed Alan Fincher!) get two votes. This of course would far more easily be overcome, by limiting any individual licence holder to one vote.

All this earnest discussion, of course, presupposes that the Council itself, and the four 'boaters' on it, will have a significant role. We probably might just as well argue about how many angels can dance on the head of a pin.

Vote vote vote!

2011-12-16T20:51:00.001Z

So, returning to the subject of boaters' representatives on the C&RT Council, what would I, as a voter, be looking for in a potential representative?

Well, first off, they would need to be a boater - not just a boat owner or a licence holder, although those are the minimal conditions for standing - but a boater who gets out there and boats, over a wide and varied area, throughout the year, giving them a good overview of the practicalities of negotiating the system.

Second, ideally they would be doing this in a full length boat, and a reasonable deep drafted one too. Only then will they have a real understanding of the issues affecting the full range of boaters - moorings near bridgeholes, lack of dredging, falling water levels - for which full length, deep drafted boats (like what I have got) provide an early warning system for everyone.

Third, they should be canal boaters. I like rivers as much as the next person (well, as long as they're the Trent), but rivers, on the whole, look after themselves, or, where they do require intervention, it is generally obvious what form this should take. Canals and their infrastructure however are wholly man made and frequently require decisions to be made that have far reaching effects. My ideal representative will love canal boating because of its unique nature and will be committed to respecting and retaining its industrial history and heritage, rather than trying to turn it into a linear nature park.

Fourth - although really this is a sine qua non - they should be an effective political operator, with a good understanding of how organisations, funding bodies and government work, the skills to maximise their impact on behalf of boaters and the ability to punch above their weight.

Finally (for now) they should hold the view that the waterways of Britain are first and foremost there for navigation. In the case of canals, they exist first, second, third, fourth and ad infinitum, for navigation. Fishermen, walkers, dogs etc etc, are all welcome to piggy back on this, but never, ever at the cost of compromising that primary purpose to any degree. It falls to the boaters' representatives to defend this position, because no one else will.

So, what are you looking for in your reps? And don't forget to enter the 'guess the length of the ballot paper sweepstake'. I wouldn't mind some suggestions as to what a suitable prize might be either.

Election time!

2011-12-14T22:18:00.001Z

The current hot topic in the boating blogosphere and the virtual Canalworld is the forthcoming election of four boater representatives to the Council of the new charity, the Canal & River Trust (very important, that ampersand, because other wise it would form the acronym CART, and that would never do).

Now the first thing to say, is no, I will not be standing; I think there will be plenty of worthy candidates without me plunging back into the murky and shark infested waters of electoral politics. My experience thereof though does lead me to wonder about a couple of points. The first is that with only ten proposers needed for a nomination, no deposit required, and approximately 30,000 people eligible to be candidates, the ballot paper is likely to be a very long one.

The second thought is slightly more complicated and intractable. In most elections, candidates are limited, in the interests of fairness, to a single manifesto statement (in this case, a very brief one of 150 strictly enforced and very precisely counted words). In internal elections in which I have participated (for example, party selection processes) any additional attempts to communicate with the electorate were deemed grounds for disqualification. In local and national elections, this is effectively imposed by very strict limits on candidates' spending - the exceeding of which can not only lead to disqualification, but a prison sentence.

Limiting candidates' communications with the electorate can be controversial - for example, in that internal party election I argued (unsuccessfully) that the ability to communicate effectively and garner votes was an important factor in selecting a candidate, and candidates for selection should be allowed to demonstrate this. But the counter arguments also carry weight: limiting everyone to the same number of words or the same level of spending means that no one should gain an unfair advantage from being able to afford to print more leaflets, or having friends in the press.

What happens to this principle however in the internet age? The prospective candidates whom I am already aware of are either high profile bloggers or prolific contributors to Canalworld, or both - that, by definition, is why I am aware of them - whereas there will be other candidates whose names I shall see for the first time on the ballot paper, and about whom I shall know no more than they can express in 150 words. Those I do already know, I happen to think highly of, and will very likely vote for. But does that mean that the other, lower profile, candidates have been unfairly disadvantaged?

Disadvantaged they will have been, without a doubt, by not having a pre-existing base of support and established platform to communicate their message; but is that unfair? Or might we say that someone who has already proven their ability at communicating with a large number of people, and who has been and will be in contact with a broad range of fellow boaters, is by virtue of this likely to be a better representative?

In the meantime, shall we have a sweepstake on how many candidates there will be for the four boater rep. positions? I'm going to pluck a figure out of thin air and go for thirty eight. Leave me your guess in the comments, I'll record them all, and the one nearest the actual figure gets a prize of some sort.

Still in limbo

2011-12-13T20:30:00.001Z

Or Newhaven; there's not a lot of difference. Slipping precipitously down the charts too I see, no doubt as a direct result of nothing exciting happening. Suspect it might well be Sunday now before we make it up to the boats; we could be finished here before then, but I have to be in Brighton on Saturday night so there's not much point in going up and then coming back so soon, so it looks like another few nights on son's sofa. It does feel like being in limbo though; not anywhere, just between places; life on hold, justvwaiting for something to happen.

There and back again

2011-12-10T21:28:00.001Z

In case you thought I'd disappeared, here is the post I should have written on Thursday. Yes, we did take the van up to Stretton, we unpacked it, and we came back - still a bit of work to do on the house but it's nearly sorted now.

We transferred everything we had brought onto Bakewell with the exception of two chairs, neither of which would go through the door, let alone down the side corridor, so they came home again, along with lots of empty boxes (although we didn't get them all unpacked by any means), three mattresses, three Ikea stools and a drop leaf table which came with the boat. The two-foot wide bunk beds will be dismantled, and their six by four foot room entirely filled with a bed, the base of which has in turn been removed from what is essentially the back end of the hold, leaving an open space which will be our study/office. All will become clearer when I finally get some photos taken.

Thank you toneveryone for your good wishes... I feel a bit of a con merchant for not actually having gone yet, but it will only be a few days now I promise...

Tomorrow's the day!

2011-12-07T17:15:00.001Z

When we shall at least be moving the van, loaded with stuff, up to the boats. The idea is then to come back, drop off the van, finish off whatever needs doing, and then finally return in the car, with anything we have forgotten, to Chertsey and Bakewell. And that will be it; the great shift, the leap into the unknown, made - as to what happens then, we shall have to wait and see.

So when are you going?

2011-12-05T21:13:00.001Z

It's a subject of not much interest to not very many people, but a few have been kind enough to ask, sadly rather than hopefully I'm sure. And it's getting to the stage where people have asked more than once... The answer, which isn't meant to sound rude or glib, is when we're ready. As soon as we're ready, that is, as we are already a fair bit behind the schedule I dreamed of back in the summer. Taking four or so weeks out to go to Retord didn't help, although it was well worth it. After all, I can turn out a kitchen cupboard any time, but how often do I get the chance to get stuck in Morse Lock?

We are getting there. We are definitely making progress and it won't be long now. The van is hired until next Friday, but... we can extend this one day at a time. We hired from Choice, by the way. They were not the cheapest of all, but they were the cheapest of the firms that had a usable website and someone helpful on the end of the phone, and they weren't the dearest by any means.

So, apologies to the Moomins and the Ducks who were hoping to visit next weekend, but I don't think we'll be quite ready to receive guests by then... Soon, though, soon...

So much stuff!

2011-12-03T22:05:00.002Z

For months now, we have been living in chaos and uproar, and I don'tvreally know how (well, perhaps 'if' would be a better question) I've stayed sane. Over the years, thanks to a serious jumble sale/charity shop/flea market habit we have accumulated so much stuff you wouldn't believe. Individually each object is lovely (though some earlier finds have been superseded by lovelier versions of themselves), but cumulatively, the effect has gradually, imperceptibly, become somewhat overwhelming. I do find myself thinking wistfully of a simpler, sparser, existence. Lucky I'm going to be going to live on a boat then, even if it does boast about as much internal space as you can have and still be on a narrow boat.

The sensation of living in an antique emporium has been heightened in recent months by my feeble attempts to start sorting stuff out without having anywhere else to put it, the upshot being large piles of stuff on the floor and in the middle of every room, while I look helplessly at and try to decide what to do with it. I am fairly ruthless in shedding stuff; I have some treasured possessions which either have sentimental historical value, or which I just love for themselves, but in the very nature of being treasures, they are few and far between. Many lovely objects have come into my home, and into my life, over the years, but I see that as one stage of their journey; it feels wrong to hoard things for the sake of it when they could be giving pleasure to someone else. Time for me to move on, and them too.

So a large pile is forming for the Searchlight shop, should they ever get their act together and come and fetch it, otherwise it's first come first served for the big national charity shops. A car full, literally (and we're not talking a small car here either) of books will be winging its way to Oxfam in Brighton tomorrow. The children are fighting over the furniture (mainly when neither of them wants it), and a hired van is sitting on the drive... Today I finally started to move some stuff into it; stuff - including furniture - that we are taking to Bakewell, and suddenly, things seem to be falling into place.

Location:So much stuff!

True colours

2011-12-02T08:45:00.002Z

I was remarking the other day on the colour scheme Chertsey was wearing in August 1970, and how this differed from how she had subsequently been painted. What I was forgetting was staring me in the face everytime I walked down the stairs - the false cratch, of which this is part, was still green, yellow, red and white when I bought Chertsey - the only bit of the boat still to be painted like this, and the tattiest. So much so in fact that it wasn't restorable, hence its having been dismantled, and this section, along with the old and part rotten deckboard, being preserved indoors for posterity.

If you look closely (I've left the photo large so you can click on it and zoom in) at the yellow section, you can see Chertsey's Grand Union fleet number, 130, stamped into the wood.

Things I will miss about Newhaven no. 2

2011-11-30T18:38:00.003Z

The station.

Or rather, not so much the station, although admittedly it has provided a pretty good service over the years in getting me away from Newhaven, but, again, it's a person I shall miss: Angela in the ticket office, who is always cheerful and friendly and helpful and patient, even when dozens of French students descend upon her each wanting to buy a ticket to London, individually.

The station building is nice too, with its napped flint walls and wooden canopy. Many, many is the train I've waited for here; 99% of the time on Platform 1, to take me to Lewes and thence to London, and the world, but yesterday I was on Platform 2, en route to Seaford, for a change.

I'm sure I shall be pasing through here a few more times in the future though, albeit with a return ticket to somewhere else in my pocket.

Willow: will he or won't he?

2011-11-29T20:28:00.003Z

This is Willow. I'm typing this perched uncomfortably on the arm of the chair as he is curled up on the cushion and it would take a braver soul than me to try to move him.

We are trying to decide whether to take Willow to live on the boats with us. I have just checked and it would be OK with regard to the mooring, so now we really have to make a decision. Willow has form with boats. We found him, lonely and hungry, at Floods Ferry, gosh, it must be six years ago now. He happily came on board Helyn and settled down (leaving behind a good crop of fleas for us to discover next time). When we had to go home, and no one else showed any interest in looking out for him, we popped him on the car and took him home. With no basket or restraint, he sat on the back of the back seat and looked out of the window all the way. When we noticed him getting into any vehicle that left its doors open for more than a minute, we reckoned that he must have stowed away to Floods Ferry in someone's caravan, so could have been miles away from his home.

We already had three cats, thanks to a very persuasive (and slightly less than truthful) 'sales' woman at the local cat rescue centre; we still have those three, and they are going to move in with Sebastian. Willow is a very different creature though, and part of me thinks that he would take well to boat life. He would certainly enjoy the undivided attention of his humans, and curling up by the stove. He might also, however, enjoy catching small mammals, running away, and scratching the back cabin to shreds.

I would like to have him with us; I have a soft spot for his take-no-prisoners attitude. Unlike the female cats, he doesn't want to be liked and doesn't try to ingratiate himself. He's probably the most intelligent cat I've ever met (and I've known a few; when I was a child we had nine at one point - and I've hardly ever been without one either).

I know lots of cats do successfully live on boats, even while travelling - but also experienced second hand with Nick on Aldgate and Kat the problems they can cause by refusing to come home. Madcat I know thinks that he should stay at home and be one of the lads with Baz, but he's outnumbered by the girls, and four is a lot of cats in a small space - he's about as big as the rest of them put together.

So, I am still torn. I would like to have him with us, in an ideal world, but am concerned that it might just be a lot of trouble for all concerned. Any experiences and insights would be most welcome.

By the way, I ought to explain about his highly inappropriately soppy name. When we found him he was very thin and delicate looking, and wiothout wishing to pry too closely, we assumed that he was female. Even once we realised he was a he, he still seemed a gentle, delicate soul. It was only after getting home and eating non stop for a week that he revealed himself to be a bruiser of a tomcat in an admittedly handsome and graceful, but now far more muscular form. I did briefly try to change his name to the far more fitting 'Woolwich', but it refused to stick.

On books

2011-11-28T22:27:00.001Z

As you might imagine, we're doing a fair bit of downsizing at the moment and one of the things I did this morning was pack up another load of books for Oxfam. I was thinking of including the set of Children's Britannica encyclopaedias that my father bought for my sister and me in the 1970s. In the end though I couldn't do it. It was for sentimental reasons, but not the most immediately obvious ones. As I picked up a random volume, letnit fall open, and read an article about caterpillars, I realised that I wanted to be able to show this to my granddaughter; to show her how once upon a time information was found in books, rather than pulled via a computer from the ether... And then I thought, she'll have the last laugh when there's a power cut and she has homework about caterpillars to complete... I'm not a luddite, but I am a bit of a pessimist and I'm not convinced the internet will be around forever - all that electricity it needs - whereas books last for centuries with no maintenance and minimal care. I know what my money would be on for long term data storage.

I also packed away a basket full of sparkly scarves and pretty beads and bracelets, so that one day I can show her that you don't need a bubblegum pink Barbie dress and a plastic tiara to dress up as a princess.

Chertsey loading at Gopsall Wharf

2011-11-27T18:27:00.003Z

photo: Richard Pearson

Following that picture I posted a couple of days ago of Chertsey unloading at Croxley Mill (and the comments I made at the end) Richard Pearson has sent another wonderful photo of Chertsey loading at Gopsall - no copyright issues here, it's one he took himself (that's more than likely Harry Arnold snapping away on the bridge) and he's very generously happy for me to post it.

I feel very lucky to have so many good photos of Chertsey at various stages of her life, and particularly from this exciting time. I think this is an absolutelt brilliant picture, in the thick of the action, and better than the longer distance shots taken from the bridge.

What I find interesting here (following on from my musings about the paint scheme in the unloading picture) is that judging by the stands, mast, back end beam and tiller, Chertsey seems to have been painted to match the other boats, belonging to Tony (I think) Jones. Could this have been done deliberately, bearing in mind that this is early in the days of Richard Barnett's ownership, and he later changed the colour scheme completely, or is it just a lucky coincidence of traditional colours?

(I've not reduced the photo so you can click on it to get a bigger version and home in on the marvellous detail)

Croxley Script, rewritten

2011-11-26T15:20:00.004Z

One of my favourite words is palimpsest. A palimpsest is not just a blank sheet; it is a piece of writing material, usually vellum, from which the previous writing has been erased, the surface scraped off, so that it can be used again.

Thanks to Alan for pointing me towards this photo (on Geograph) of the site of Croxley Mill as it is today.

© Copyright Nigel Cox and licensed for reuse under this Creative Commons Licence

And here again, as it was in the early sixties

(thanks again to Diamond Geezer for this photo)

Not a trace of the original script remains.

Croxley postscript

2011-11-25T16:09:00.005Z

I got a lovely surprise today in the form of an email from Richard Pearson. He'd seen this post from last June, and was prompted to send me this photo, of Chertsey unloading (or preparing to unload) at Croxley Mill.

This would be in August 1970, the loading note showing that they'd loaded at Gopsall on the Ashby on the 18th, and had been checked off (presumably in arrival?) on the 24th. It was, I believe, on the 28th that the very last load arrived here from the Ashby.

In earlier times, there would have been a mechanical conveyor, known as a 'jigger', for unloading the coal, but by 1970 this had been replaced by the mobile grab shown in the photo. Gerald Box (p. 5)* describes how members of the Ashby Canal Association had to manufacture and adapt the unloading equipment themselves, unhampered by their lack of metalwork expertise, as part of proving the traffic was viable and thus securing the contract.

Interesting to note Chertsey's colour scheme at this time; most photos I have from the seventies show her in dark blue, red and black, which continued well into the eighties.

Another postscript: There is a set of photos taken by Harry Arnold of Chertsey et al loading at Gopsall, but I can't afford his prices and even if I could I wouldn't be allowed to post them on the internet, but you can see two of them on page 27 of the 2009/4 HNBOC newsletter, should you be able to lay your hands on one.

*Clinging on: The Moira Cut, Coal, and the Last Days of Carrying, Ambion Publishing, 2003

Things I will miss about Newhaven no. 1

2011-11-24T11:10:00.005Z

Number one of what might, I fear, be destined to be rather a short list, is...

Geoff and Col (the two in the middle), purveyors of fine vegetables to the people of Newhaven every Thursday and Saturday.

Newhaven's street market, such as it is, was set up more than a decade ago now. At first it was quite busy, with a variety of stalls - hippy clothes, French foodstuffs, posh deli... Different stalls have come and gone over the years, but mostly gone. Not only can Newhaven's 11,000 population no longer sustain any shops to speak of, against the pincer movement of local supermarkets and the respective retail delights of Lewes to the north and Brighton to the west, but there was clearly no demand from the locals for anything more than cheap bags and fishing gear. Even these most basic and saddest of market staples tend only to be there on Saturdays, and not even always then.

But Geoff and Col, and their vegetables, collected from the wholesale market that morning, are there almost without fail. Good quality, cheap and seasonal, and you can always select your own produce too, unlike many market stalls. I go nearly every week and take inspriation for the week's meals from what's available. Today I came away with some bramleys (comforting apple crumble), celery, parsnips, mushrooms, onions (a nice winter vegetable stew, to be served with mashed...) swede, greens, sprouts... sweet potatoes (a creamy curry with coconut milk, perhaps), tiny little cooking tomatoes, too ripe to ever be sold in the supermarkets but perfect for a pasta sauce; a bag of mixed peppers and a tray of fresh chillies, again something I've never seen in a supermarket, not this many for £1.50, (for a chilli, served with...) two lovely ripe avocados. Plus bananas for Jim's porridge and a bag of potatoes... The basis of five meals, plus some chestnuts for fun, all for less than twenty quid.

Yes, there are other market stalls, and farm shops, selling more local, more exotic, more organic, (and more expensive) produce that we will come across on out travels, but this is one thing I will miss about Newhaven.

Primus inter pares

2011-11-23T21:13:00.003Z

Here is my new collection of stoves, picked up from David Schweizer at Braunston on Saturday. To add to my 1956 Monitor, I now have a Primus No. 1, a Primus No. 54, and a Svea No. 106. The Svea is a bit of a mystery - calling itself the 'King of Stoves', it has writing on it which appears to be Arabic or something similar. Also, you will note, two windproof boxes - not official Primus ones, but carefully hand made from bulk biscuit tins, which happen to be the perfect size.

I'm told that two of the stoves are in working order, and one needs a little attention. First of all I shall try out the Monitor in one of the boxes - its main disadvantage being the difficulty of lighting it in the slightest draught. I believe that there may be good homes waiting for one or even two of the stoves if I decide that it would be too greedy to keep them all - but they are so beautiful!

It really is made of wood

2011-11-22T20:04:00.002Z

Of course I knew it (she) was really, Singapore that is, built of pitch pine on oak... but it's one thing knowing what's under the paint; quite another actually seeing it. I didn't actually see it in person, Jim went over to Walton on the Naze on his own, by train (have Senior Railcard, will travel - just wait til his bus pass arrives!) to see how things are progressing and decide on the next moves. No nasty surprises, that's the good thing, and all the bits of rot now exposed and the wet bits drying.

The (semi) wheelhouse has come off - this was a kind of bastard hybrid of wheelhouse and windscreen - a raised screen with a canvas cover over the whole cockpit. The canvas is still in very good condition so we are loath to change anything while that it still useable, buit it has to be said that while most of the screen/wheelhouse is beautifully made in good solid materials, at some time in the recent past the whole lot was raised, to accomodate a tall person, by inserting a new lower section of far inferior quality. So we need to decide long term whether to go for a fully fledged, solid wheelhouse, which certainly could look nice and would be useful in adverse weather, or revert to a simple screen, which would certainly look nice (and original), and would be useful in sunny weather.

Another job is to remove parts of the interior and the mahogany tongued and grooved lining to enable access to the new planks as they are fitted. We are also going to remove the vinyl head linings that have been recently fitted. Although these are well done (and I have seen some horribly botched ones on other boats we've looked at) they look out of place, and more importantly, are trapping moisture. The key thing with a wooden boat, we have learnt, is to maximise the circulation of fresh air - this is the biggest preventative against rot.

Jim had a very pleasant journey, he informs me, but I am slightly peturbed by the behaviour of the National Rail website. Asked for journeys between Newhaven and Walton, it claimed there were only two available a day - at eight thirty and one thirty, and the same coming back. but when I asked it for trains from Liverpool Street, it turned out that there is one an hour throughout the day in both directions. Given that there are two trains an hour from Newhaven to Victoria, and no problem getting across London, there were far more available trains than originally suggested. It's a good thing I was incredulous and double checked - but as far as I know, the National Rail site has always been accurate and complete before, so I am wondering what happened this time.

Runner up!

2011-11-21T18:29:00.001Z

I had my acceptance speech all written, suitably modest of course, thanking everyone who made it possible from Leslie Morton down... My designer frock and my Jimmy Choos all laid out (this isn't ringing true is it... You know as well as I do that I wouldn't know a Jimmy Choo if you hit me over the head with one), champagne on ice... Because we had been nominated for a Herbie award. Can you imagine the joy and surprise when I looked at Neil's blog lastvweek and saw that our epic parade at Braunston had been nominated in the category of 'Best day out on someone else's boat', along with two very different, but exciting, trips on the Thames. Now the cynical might of course wonder whether Neil and Kath actually had any more than three outings in total on other people's boats in 2011, but I prefer to believe that the final three were whittled down from a highly competitive longlist.

The Chertsey trip certainly offered a contrast to the ups and downs, speed and stunning scenery of the Thames. A not very good runner could have completed a marathon in the time it took us to move from Braunston Marina to Braunston Turn and back. The only excitement was wondering whether we would get back before the beer ran out in the beer tent. Oh, and the engine stalling just as we were turning into the marina, by which time we were all catatonic, including, clearly, the engine.

So I never really expected to hear Chertsey's name announced when Neil tore open the envelope. All I can say is, what an honour it was to be nominated for so prestigious award.

Boater gets a social life

2011-11-20T16:32:00.001Z

Before I started boating, I never had much of what you might call a social life. I was shy and unadventurous, hating the thought of forcing my company on people, and in their turn, naturally, people didn't go out of their way to seek it.

But what a difference a boat makes, and a historic boat in particular. Immediately there are people all over the country who have a shared interest and shared experiences, and who don't (unlike the rest of the population) consider one slightly unhinged. Canalworld forum is a two-edged sword - I've wasted too much time getting involved in pointless arguments and getting cross because, in that lovely phrase, 'someone is wrong on the internet'. But that is more than outweighed by the friends I've made - some of whom I have met and some I still haven't yet, and might never do, but who have still been there for me. It's a great way for shy people to break the ice too and make the first move towards meeting new people.

Some of my CWF friends were at Braunston yesterday, and many more old boat acquaintances, as we convened for the bi-annual members' social meeting. The spring get together is preceded by the AGM, but the autumn one is just for fun, except for those of us on the committee, who had a committee meeting at ten! I sneaked out of that early though as I had arranged to meet David Schweizer for the handover of three Primus stoves, and two windproof boxes, which I had arranged to buy through the good offices of CWF. Whilst we were doing this, Alan Fincher turned up, and we all repaired to the Old Plough, where we met lots of other people including Dave and Izzie (Bath) and Annie and Colin who we met last year at Audlen and Ellesmere Port.

Now, I have to say something about the Old Plough. It's a perfectly OK pub with OK beer and OK food. As long as there are no more than about half a dozen customers, that is. Back in the spring, we waited so long (over an hour) for our lunch we were late getting back for the afternoon session. Sympathetically, we asked the landlady whether they hadn't been warned to expect extra people because of our meeting. Oh yes, she replied, very shortly, she'd been warned, but what did we expect her to do about it?

Yesterday, I was in the pub when they opened at 12. By the time I came to order lunch at about half past, maybe four other people had already placed orders - and even at this early stage I was told that there would be a delay. As it was still early, this didn't matter. Then, straight after me, they stopped taking orders for food at all, telling people they would have to wait half an hour before even being allowed to order, without any regard to how long people had been waiting. I had to wait about ten minutes before I could even place my order at the bar, as there was only one barmaid on duty (no sign of the landlady this time) and she was incredibly slow and inefficient. And at this stage the pub still wasn't even busy! Is it any wonder that for all its faults, the Boathouse, a Marstons chain pub, is the most popular with the Braunston crowds. The Nelson closes every winter for lack of trade while the Plough seem happy to turn trade away rather than get an extra member of staff in for a couple of hours to make the most of a guaranteed influx of customers. The AGM is being held in Napton next year, and the local pub will be forewarned - let's see if they can do any better.

Anyway, I got my OK lunch eventually, and fortunately Jim had escaped from the committee meeting just as I was ordering, so he got one too, after which we wended our way back to the village hall for the second part of Malcolm Braine's slide show, begun in March and curtailed owing to it being time to be turfed out of the hall. Some of the slides were fantastic, and Malcolm's reminisces were fascinating if occasionally tantalising... I could tell you a story about that.. I'll tell you about that later... And later never came. There were also bills and letters, one fascinating snippet being the cost of building a wooden joey boat (only slightly marred by my not noting the date): £175, of which £50 was the cost of the labour.

Part way through we had a break for cake and the strange grey-green liquid that is passed off as tea at HNBOC events. To be fair, although my first cup was undrinkable, I picked up another later which did actually look and taste like tea, and was much needed. Nonetheless, once I am on the committee proper I shall demand an investigation! I was tapped on the shoulder by Rex Wain, who handed me a CD of photos of Bakewell; Nick Hill then came and told me that he had a new photo of Chertsey on the Ashby coal traffic for me, and we talked to Pete Boyce about fitting the planks and cloths which he has respectively made and ordered for Chertsey.

I can see why people join gangs or religious sects. It is nice to have a group of people to which you can comfortably belong. I may have come to it late, but I'm enjoying having a social life.

And a morsel of Tarporley?

2011-11-19T06:50:00.001Z

You could eat a real slice of this one... A rather splendid cake which was made for Tarporley's annual social gathering which we went to at the Pirate Castle last night. I went along to say hello to some the old gang (it was great to see Penny again, after her travels) which I have rather guiltily abandoned, and goodbye to others (Bob Wakely is greatly missed)

A Flickr of interest

2011-11-18T11:23:00.003Z

I came back from the boat moving odyssey to find a thread in full flood on Canalworld regarding old photos and obscure locations, which led to these two photos on Flickr.

It didn't take long to establish that these are indeed pictures of Chertsey in Birmingham - albeit both the place and date are not quite right. The place is nearer Old Turn than Gas Street, and apparently Chertsey was kept here for a while before being moved to Les Allen's yard at Oldbury where she remained until 2009. The date is not 1970s, but some time after 1980 - how could I tell this from the photo?

(CWF readers are, I'm afraid, ineligible to enter, as I have already given the answer away there.)

A slice of Bakewell's past

2011-11-17T11:28:00.003Z

Here is some of what I know so far...

Bakewell was delivered to the Grand Union Canal Carrying Company on October 30th 1936, almost 76 years to the day before I bought her (I'm going to revert to saying 'her' rather than it because it's easier and does actually feel more natural). She was half of one of 24 pairs ordered from Harland and Wolff; the 'Big Woolwiches'. While there were 48 large Woolwich motor boats built (and 38 large Northwiches), all in steel, all but 24 of the 86 were destined to have wooden butties from Walkers of Rickmansworth; the 'Big Rickies' of which few remain. Of the 24 large Woolwich butties, 21 are still extant in some form; three having been scrapped by British Waterways in the late 1970s (one under a false name; the butty currently called Berkhamsted is widely believed to actually be Ayr)

Bakewell was intended to be paired with Bletchley (which is currently carrying coal on the GU paired with small Woolwich Argus). Bletchley's fleet number was 119, and Bakewell's original fleet number, following GUCCCo's convention at the time, was 119B. This was later changed to 224. Bakewell's earliest recorded pairing was with Tyseley (now home to the Mikron Theatre Company) in 1944. That wonderful book of photos, A Canal People, has two stunning photos of Bakewell, on page 111 and 118, looking newly painted in BW blue and yellow, complete with fleur-de-lys style embellishments.

Following nationalisation in 1948, Bakewell remained in the BW carrying fleet, and was in fact one of the very last boats carrying for BW - as part of one of three pairs 'on the Lime Juice', a short run bringing imported concentrate in barrels from Brentford to Roses factory at Boxmoor. This traffic continued under BW until the early seventies, when BW withdrew on the grounds that the boats were beyond economic repair, although it (along with some of the boats, but not Bakewell) was taken over by independent carriers who continued until 1980 (I think - I must check with Tam and Di!). There are some fantastic photos of Bakewell on the Lime Juice in 1967 in this month's Waterways World (and thank you to everyone who has brought this to my attention).

Alan Fincher took these photos of Bakewell in the summer of 1974, probably just after she finished the lime juice traffic and prior to being sold to UCC.

photo: Alan Fincher

That's Halsall in the background... (Madcat, you never did give me your email address!)photo: Alan Fincher

In August 1974 Bakewell was sold by BW to Union Canal Carriers of Braunston, to become a camping boat - it would be great to see some photos from this period. She remained with UCC until 1983, when she was sold to the first of many private owners, who converted her to a houseboat with a cabin for much of her length.

Not any old private owner though; one Rex Wain. Yep, I have a boat (probably the only boat) with a Rex Wain steel cabin, and still with the solid and meticulously executed lining of douglas fir T&G and elm that he put in (albeit painted over now). Much of his fit out was removed when the boat was rebottomed, but part of a kitchen dresser remains, in the living room. (This alone makes it so much better a boat than Bodmin; what a lucky escape we had there.) Another illustrious previous owner was the writer and waterways historian Euan Corrie. In contrast to Chertsey, Bakewell has been through a large number of owners since leaving carrying service, none keeping her for more than four years, until last owner before me, who had her for eight, had her rebottomed and extended the conversion with a new kitchen. I wonder whether this a natural fate of butties, and whether I will buck the trend.

Sources:
Alan H. Faulkner The George and the Mary
Tim Wilkinson Hold on a Minute
Sonia Rolt A Canal People: The Photographs of Robert Longden
Waterways World, December 2011
and especial thanks to Pete Harrison and Alan Fincher.

Mostly plants

2011-11-16T17:00:00.000Z

The short advice given by Michael Pollan is his various books (which I haven't read. Yet) is: Eat food. Not too much. Mostly plants.

This is advice we have been trying to take to heart lately. Briefly, we were both long time vegetarians (me for fifteen odd years, Jim for more than 25) until a few years ago. I decided (or realised) that being a lacto-vegetarian - that is, not eating meat or fish, but eating dairy produce and eggs - was a cop out, at least from the animal welfare and environmental perspectives that were our primary motivation. There's more animal suffering and environmental damage in a conventionally produced omelette or pint of milk than in, say, a free range organic lamb chop. So I went vegan - that is, avoiding all animal products - and actually managed to keep it up for over a year despite being the only one in the household. It was getting the job in Huddersfield that did for me; cooking for one and sometimes needing to use convenience foods made it seem impossible at the time.

But eating humanely reared, organic meat didn't seem like the biggest crime either, when smug veggies were tucking into mass produced cheese, factory farmed milk and battery eggs. It was the discovery of the Nightingales Farm Shop in Atherstone (now sadly no longer there, although their produce is available at local farmers' markets) and their absolutely sublime locally reared steak pies that knocked Jim off the wagon - not only beautiful meat, but divine gravy and perfect pastry made these irresistible. The trouble with falling off any wagon is that you tend to land on a slippery slope... and before too long we were eating Fray Bentos pies. Obviously, this is not good. Nor even pleasant.

So, we decided to have another go. Not to be vegan; not, in fact, to 'be' anything rigid, but to try to eat mostly plants. The idea is for all the meals we cook at home to be plant based, but to allow ourselves some leeway when eating out or visiting others. Sometimes it used to be hard to think of something original or interesting to cook for dinner (tea for readers north of Watford), and we'd get involved in complex, expensive recipes. Now the aim is to base each day's dinner around fresh vegetables, pulses and grains - the last two between them containing all the amino acids required to provide protein as good as animal based. Hopefully this will be simpler, better for our health and our pocket, and doing what we can to promote animal welfare and environmental sustainability. Recent dinners have included:

Cauliflower and chick pea curry with brown rice

Lentil dahl with garlic and ginger (the only vegetables we had left on the boat one evening) and bread

Wholewheat spaghetti with a sauce of fresh tomatoes, mushrooms, canellini beans and white wine (all the stuff we found in the fridge when we got back from the boats)

Chilli (peppers, tomatoes, fresh chillis and kidney beans) with brown rice

Beetroot and lentil soup with horseradish, served with Jim's wonderful home made wholemeal bread

Winter vegetable stew with butter beans and dumplings, served with greens

Moussaka, made with fresh aubergines and green lentils in a rich tomato sauce, flavoured with cinnamon, and served with garlic bread

Leek and potato pie, with canellini beans, all in wholegrain mustard sauce under a shortcrust pastry lid.

The fact that I'm eating less, losing weight, and not feeling hungry but full of energy says to me that this is a healthy diet which is meeting all my nutritional needs - easily and cheaply too. The challenge will be in not reaching for the convenience food or the pub steak at the end of a hard day's boating.

I will try to post from time to time about how well we're managing to keep it up, and any new recipe ideas that emerge.

I started writing this ages ago, by the way, long before all the tired old arguments resurfaced again on CWF.

Dawn 'til dusk

2011-11-15T10:50:00.002Z

We left Smethwick at seven on Sunday morning. Andrew and Andrea on Dove had already gone, of course, but we still beat the rush. The BCN on a misty morning makes for lovely atmospheric boating.

I learnt from a DVD about the BCN (from these people, but I can't find it on their list now) that the reason the motorway follows the canal like this, frequently not just crossing, but straddling it, is that this was the only land that was available when the motorway was built. It was salutary to be reminded that the red brick traditional arched bridges we went under were once in the countryside.

This of course was the day of the Wolverhampton 21, which I actually quite enjoyed. OK, I wasn't doing much of the bowhauling myself this time - I just gave Jim a carrot and a few sugarlumps - but I am still pretty sure that I would rather do Wolverhampton twice than Hatton once. I had also had the foresight to make some sandwiches in advance for lunch, so we neither had to stop, nor subsist on Mars bars/chips/thin air as on previous days. I can't recall how long it took us to get both boats down, but it was fairly respectable. Again most of the locks were against us, but not all, for a change, and Nick was a marvel, backsetting each lock as he worked the motor boat down, so it was ready for us when we arrived.

As we neared the bottom we met a quartet of (rather posh) students, who were doing a sponsored canoe trip. Some confusion ensued when they turned a lock that Nick had just made ready, but it was resolved amicably, and to make amends they decided to help us bowhauling the butty. Now picture an aeriel view of a lock with a single bottom gate... the recess in the side that the gate opens into. Now picture a canoeist walking backwards, without looking, along the edge of the lockside... and stepping straight back off the edge and into the lock - pursued by a very large butty with no brakes. Being in the gate recess would have saved him from being crushed of course, and as he was wearing his canoeing buoyancy jacket, and had three mates with him, he was quickly hauled out. By those of his mates who weren't busy taking photos anyway. When we left them he was rather folornly dismantling his mobile phone which had of course gone in with him. (Boating superstition no. 26: If you put your phone in your pocket, you will fall in.) They were hoping to get to Wolverhampton's Broad Street Basin for the night, as they had been promised safe storage there for the canoes. As this occurred at the second or third lock from the bottom, and at was already teatime, this seemed a trifle optimistic, but I didn't like to say. I suppose they could have made it easily if they walked, and carried the canoes.

We had had a wild dream of making it to Stretton that night, but it was not to be. It was still light when we went through the stop lock at Autherley and on to the Shropshire Union (home at last, we felt), but dusk was falling fast and we made it as far as Wolverhampton Boat Club where we tied up in the dark. A genuine dawn to dusk day's boating. Wonderful.

By the way, Captain Ahab had just come back from the BCN and has written some really fascinating posts about its geography and history. If you're reading this later, check out his archive for around this date.

The delights of Smethwick

2011-11-14T16:53:00.003Z

From the beer tent, I texted a friend from work: 'I am at a bonfire in Smethwick'. His reply was exactly as I had predicted: 'Where is Smethwick?'. Given that this was the same person who once asked me 'is Brighouse a real place, then', it wasn't a hard prediction to make. (Now, don't get me wrong, Dean is one of my absolutely favourite people, but he would be the first to admit to being a bit, well, southern.)

But how come I had heard of Smethwick? How had the place wormed its way into my consciousness? Was it from history lessons at school? (O level British Social and Economic History 1733-1935, and A level, for some reason reversed, British Economic and Social - perhaps it sounds harder that way round). Was it in the news when I was growing up, either through strikes, or industry closing down, or the notorious utterances of its erstwhile MP? One way or another, I had heard of Smethwick. But it wasn't until I looked up its Wikipedia entry that I realised just how massive a part it had played in the industrial revolution; just how many famous products had been manufactured there. And now? It's the saddest, deadest place - or at least certainly a contender for that title - that you could dread seeing.

We checked out the shops on Friday - a parade of mostly (possibly exclusively) Sikh owned cheap hardware shops, where we were able to meet all Bakewell's mop, broom and bucket type requirements - and if we had wanted cooking pots, why, I have never seen such a selection and at such low prices too. The shops all offered a wonderfully eclectic mix of Indian trinkets and cookware, British essentials and Christmas decorations. A splendly attired matriarch took us to task for selecting an inferior, flimsy bucket, and almost forced us to have a different model. I held firm though. I wanted a blue one. The anglicised second (or even third, maybe) generation directed us to a plumbers merchants (run by their nephew, it turned out) where we were able to buy what we needed to isolate the leaking Paloma, meaning that we could finally turn the water pump on and use the taps.

The following day we went into the town's shopping precinct - this was really sad; more shops shut than open, although there was a rather splendid and apparently thriving Punjabi music shop. There was a Tescos, tho, that provided another new experience. The first aisle, by the door, was dedicated to 'ethnic' foodstuffs. Indian first - massive bags of lentils and rice at a quarter the price of standard packs; 500g bags of spices - cumin, paprika - for £1.59 - the price of a 25g Schwartz jar; tins of unbranded chick peas at 29p... then West Indian - coconut milk for 78p a tin (really thick and creamy too); pepper sauces... then Polish... and maybe more. And the odd thing is, this branch of Tescos was still selling the Schwartz spices, and the little packs of lentils costing the same as the massive ones, in all the other aisles. And presumably people were buying them. We were like kids at Christmas and struggled back to Bakewell laden with tins and packets, which helped to even out the list a bit.

After shopping, we were visited by Madcat (as she is known on CWF) who joined us for a cup of tea, and then we strolled down to the New Main Line so that I could finally see and photograph Halsall. Now, at this stage I should be linking to the latest new entry in the Town Class Sticker Album, but disaster has struck! I have forgotten the password, or more likely the user name, and have a horrible feeling that it is linked to my old work email address which no longer exists. Hopefully it will come back to me, as I have photos of Alton and Aldgate to add, and probably others too. Anyway, Halsall was looking lovely and distinctive in a new green coat, and the cabin was so cosy, I am rethinking Chertsey's austerity look.
As we were half way there, we proceeded across the aqueduct to the beer tent and settled in for the evening. Beers were from the legendary Ma Pardoe's (aka the Old Swan at Netherton) and I must say tasted great from the barrel. I started with Bumblehole but although not extraordinarily strong it is what I call 'heady', volatile, like ESB say, and not my cup of tea, so I switched to Entire, and enjoyed that for the rest of the evening, whilst Jim stuck with Dark Swan mild.

The bonfire was lit at 7.30 and by the time we went outside was going well. We weren't bothered about getting close to the action, and watched the fireworks from the aqueduct. They were rather splendid, and while in the past I've tended to be a bit 'bah, humbug' about fireworks and the costs involved, this time I just gave myself up to the spectacle. The signs in the shops promoting Diwali remind us that there aren't many cultures that don't like a fiery celebration (or two) around this time of year, and it's not hard to see why it feels appropriate.

Looping the loop

2011-11-13T12:39:00.003Z

Entering the Icknield Port Loop (unless Michelle tells me otherwise!)

Bakewell's journey: day 4 (because I didn't take any photos on day 3).

As well as towing Bakewell, Nick was also making a delivery, of some empty blue ballast drums. Thus we got to make a detour around the Icknield Port Loop, which certainly added to the interest of the trip.

Making the delivery

I really want to come back and explore the BCN over a longer period of time; it must be the most fascinating of Britain's waterways; the most tantalising and the most frustrating - all those lost wharves and arms and loops, and the ghosts and traces that remain. I can't say I fancy doing the BCN 24 hour challenge (we're SO slow! And I like my sleep too much), but I'd love to try to cover the ground over a week or a month.

More lovely BCN scenery

Tunnel vision

2011-11-12T12:52:00.003Z

Bakewell's journey, day 2, in which we travelled from the top of Hatton to the Blue Bell Cider House at Hockley Heath.

On the whole, Jim and I took turns to steer the butty, and somehow it always seemed to be his turn when we got to a tunnel. By the last day I was insisting that I take a turn as a tunnel came up lest Nick think I was wimping out of them.

This one though gave me the opportunity of taking some nice moody photos.

By the way, do check out Paul's Chertsey photos again - I linked to them the other day but he keeps adding more!

Bakewell's journey: day 1

2011-11-11T15:15:00.004Z

The trouble with moving boats, leaping around, working locks etc - and having a decent camera, is that the camera tends not to get used. I can leap about and do locks with an old compact in my pocket, but not with four figures worth of SLR around my neck, so I have managed to take precious few action shots on recent trips.

However, on Tuesday morning, a couple on the towpath were taking photos and I thought, why not, it's my boat after all they're taking pictures of, and scribbled down my email address on a piece of paper, and as I dashed past, handed it to them and asked if they would mind emailing me a few of their photos. And they - or rather Sandra - did; seventeen pictures that put together show us leaving one lock, singling out along the pound, and starting to get ready to breast up for the next one. A marvellous record that we would otherwise not have; thank you Sandra. I think in future I shall keep some pre-written bits of paper in my pocket, to deploy whenever I see people taking photos!

Chertsey's odyssey, illustrated

2011-11-10T14:53:00.005Z

Paul has uploaded some photos of his and Hairy Neil's journey with Chertsey here. In normal Photobucket fashion, they appear in reverse order.

Many thanks to Paul for the visual record of the adventure - and Neil tells me he filled in the log as well.

Normal service is resumed

2011-11-09T20:41:00.002Z

For want of a plug, the ability to recharge the iPod was lost; for want of the iPod, the blog was lost...

We have completed our epic journey, and are now safely home. We includes me, Jim, Hairy Neil, Paul, Bakewell and Chertsey. The mad, impossible plan actually came off.

An enormous thank you to Hairy Neil and Paul for moving Chertsey, a stunning feat rendered only the more impressive by the fact that they managed to take in at least one (and up to five) selected real ale pub every night, and polish the brass to boot. Clearing (with Nev's help) Fradley with hours to spare before the stoppage began, they really got us out of a hole.

The itinerary went something like this...

Monday 31st - Jim and I arrive at Stockton and take possession of Bakewell. Jim cleans the porta potti. Nick arrives at the top of the locks with Aldgate.

Tuesday 1st - We stroll up to help Nick down the locks, and hitch Bakewell to Aldgate. We get a crash course in butty steering and breasting up while on the move to enter double locks. We realise that Bakewell is woefully undersupplied with ropes, and what we do have is green and slimey. Bakewell finishes the day at the top of Hatton with a very knackered crew.

Wednesday 2nd - Aldgate and Bakewell leave later than planned owing to having to rescue Kat from up a tree, but still manage to get to the other side of Lapworth to finish another exhausting day in the Blue Bell Cider House. Meanwhile Neil drives over to Torksey and sets Chertsey's timing, then takes her for a test run up to Saxilby and back, and then on to Dunham Bridge.

Thursday 3rd - No locks for us today, and we spend the night in Birmingham. Chertsey finally gets off the tidal Trent, although a malfunctioning lock means curtailing the day's journey at Fiskerton.

Friday 4th - A short run for us into Smethwick, where we tie up and go shopping. Chertsey on the other hand keeps going to Trent Lock, very nearly the end (or beginning) of the river, an epic day's travelling.

Saturday 5th - We visit Halsall and entertain Madcat, drink beer and watch fireworks. Neil and Paul on the other hand finish the night at Barton Turns, where they try five different pubs before deciding that the one at the marina might be the best bet after all.

Sunday 6th - our turn for an early(ish) start as we creep away from Smethwick at seven. It takes us around four hours to get both boats down the 21, and Jim starts answering to 'Dobbin' and demanding sugar lumps. We make it as far as Wolverhampton Boat Club before the light goes completely. This and Tuesday were our longest days, and around ten hours. Chertsey meanwhile makes it to Radford Bridge on the Staffordshire and Worcestershire Canal - they have made it through Fradley before the locks close on Monday morning!

Monday 7th - We have another late start owing to the errant Kat, but with only a few miles to go, we are tied up at Stretton on our lovely new mooring well before lunch. Chertsey makes it to Brweood before the light fails, and after Jim has trained and taxi'd back to Stockton and collected the car, we drive over to join them for a few beers, and a have very expensive meal in the newly refurbished Lion Hotel (if Jim and I hadn't needed to eat we would have stayed in the Swan, where they had Directors).

Tuesday 8th - Not at seven a.m. as threatened (I wonder why they might have slept in....), thank goodness, but later in the morning, Chertsey joins Bakewell at Stretton. Tea and buns are enjoyed, Neil and Paul have a tour of the yard, then pack all their gear into Fang the Volvo for the drive back to Torksey, whereupon their luggage is transferred to Neils ex London cab, and we regain the A1 and head for home, where we arrive at nine o'clock.

And that, in brief, is the epic journey of three boats and five people, to safely get Chertsey and Bakewell to their mooring for the winter. Many many thanks to all concerned.

Photos to follow.

Smethwick stopover

2011-11-04T12:19:00.001Z

Here we are in Smethwick, where we are staying for the BCNS bonfire rally.

On our knees

2011-11-03T18:55:00.001Z

Tonight we're at Sherbourne Wharf in Birmingham, so I guess I had better rewind a bit to say how we got here, and why nothing got posted last night.

Today has been the easiest day yet with no - yea NO - locks. What a lovely change that made, even if we did have a soaking in a sudden downpour that we could have avoided by spending five minutes longer on our lunch. Lunch today was beans on toast, what luxury, tying up and sitting down at the dining table. Lunch on monday was a bag of chips, and lunch yesterday was a Mars bar. The toast was made possible by my finally figuring out what each of the knobs on the gas stove relates to. It's a very good cooker, but the diagrams have worn off.

Steering a butty turns out to be quite fun, even if we do keep getting told off for doing it wrong. Mostly we are being towed on a short line, which means that we need to steer, but if we do it wrong, it can throw the motor out of position. We do not have an ideal set up as the tiller bar has been broken at some point and is splinted up with metal straps screwed to it. A bigger problem is that where it slots into the elum, it is very loose, and unless wedged up with suitable bits of kindling, the end of the tiller fails to clear the cabin top which as you can imagine is quite detrimental to effective steering. Today was fine because we could hammer some wedges in and leave them there, but the butty tiller has to come out in every lock (failure to do this is probably how it got broken in the first place) and so the bits of wood fall out and fall in the canal every time.

In contrast to Hatton on Tuesday, yesterday we had the single locks of Lapworth, which meant bowhauling. I actually quite enjoy this, although it would have been a lot easier if we'd had a longer rope. The ropes that came with Bakewell are very minimal, and while we have (or possibly had) a lovely long one on Chertsey, we took that to move Singapore, never used it, and managed to leave it behind, along with Chertsey's spare tying up rope, at the boatyard at Walton on the Naze.

Yesterday should have been an easier day than Tuesday, despite the bowhauling, as it was shorter, for a start. But we were all still exhausted, and got off to a late start when Nick's cat, Kat, got chased up a tree, fell part of the way down, and hurt her leg, necessitating finishing the day within walking distance of a vets. Then I banged my knee leaping into the back of the butty, and Jim bashed his pulling the butty into a lock. Nothing serious but it all contributed to a rather fraught day. We tied up in the end, again just as it was getting dark, by the Blue Bell Cider House at Hockley Heath, and after Kat had visited the vet, we went and had a few pints there and spme rather ill advised pork scratchings.

Today was better though, as we seem to have recovered from Tuesday and have had an easier pace, which continues as tomorrow we go into Smethwick where we are staying over the weekend for the BCNS fireworks, which sounds rather fun and I might get to meet Madcat at last!

Ugh

2011-11-01T18:51:00.001Z

Which is about all I am capable of saying at the moment.

We were out by seven, walking up the Stockton locks to get them ready for Nick - although he already had a helper, who actually helped us through to Bascote. Tonight we are at the top of the Hatton flight, and every single one was against us. Need I say more?

I also - this seems such a long time ago, being this morning - have had my first experience of steering a butty. The steering itself is great, even though the tiller has to be wedged intonthe elum with bits of kindling in order to clear the cabin top, but the breasting up coming into locks needs a bit more work.

First night on Bakewell

2011-11-01T13:00:00.001Z

It doesn't feel like a boat. Mainly because it doesn't smell like a boat; i.e. it doesn't smell of diesel.

We arrived at lunchtime, and although sadly the last owner, marine engineer Ed Boden, was too overwhelmed with work to come and hand over in person, by a wonderful chance, another, earlier, owner turned up - Rex Wain, who had come to take Bakewell's wooden next door neighbour here at Stockton, Ian, back to Brinklow for some repairs, so we spent ages chatting with him. They bought Bakewell from Union Canal Carriers at the end of its camping boat career, and eventually sold it on to another well known owner, Euan Corrie. It's interesting to have a boat that has had more than one owner over the past forty years.

We are very pleased and impressed so far. The firstbthing we did was find the gas - two 13kg bottles - and have a cup of tea. Then I cleaned up the kitchen - no years of grime either, just a few months' worth of spiders and got everything put away in the numerous cupboards. The only downside is that the Paloma has sprung a leak - from a very similar experience on Andante I diagnose frost damage - so we can't switch the water pump on without water running put of the bottom of it. Never mind, running water is a luxury anyway, and Ed tells me he has a spare Paloma which we can either fit or cannibalise for the damaged part.

We have however lit the Squirrel, and heat is not only emanating from it, but coursing around the boat (and the calorifier) in 28mm copper pipe. Lovely.

Nick has been held up by a fuel pipe problem and has stopped at the top of the locks (we are at the bottom) and we have promised to be up there with our windlasses at some ungodly hour of the morning, oh, ok, half past six.

Plans, and impossible dreams

2011-10-30T15:48:00.002Z

Hopefully the former, but I'm not counting any chickens yet. Two boats to move, from two different directions, hopefully to converge on the Shroppie in roughly a week from now.

Chertsey is still at Torksey, worn part replaced and engine reassembled, but not yet been started up as we need someone a bit more expert - or at least a second opinion - to reset the timing. Hairy Neil, who helped us diagnose and fix the problem, has gone away for the weekend, but his friend was going to come - but he un fortunately wasn't well so couldn't come before we left on Friday. Neil has very kindly offered to move Chertsey for us, and to sort the timing out before he leaves. The time available now to get through Fradley before the stoppage begins on the 7th is getting very tight though, and there are still a fair few potential hitches in this plan. Will Neil find crew? Will the engine start, and run well enough to be confident on the remaining tidal section? Will he get through Fradley on time, or will Chertsey end up abandoned on some foreign towpath for another winter?

Bakewell, meanwhile, needs to be collected from Warwickshire Fly at Stockton. For this job I have engaged Nick Wolfe with Aldgate, doing it in his professional capacity. Although this route isn't affected by stoppages, we need to leave early on Tuesday to fit in with Nick's schedule (which includes the promise of a bonfire party at Smethwick), and having us as crew makes it cheaper (not sure if that will hold when he finds out how inept we are). Hopefully there are fewer pitfalls in this plan, though one potential big one is that I have so far had no confirmation from Warwickshire Fly that they have received the money I transferred last Monday, and which should have been in their account by Thursday, despite my explicitly asking them to let me know, and emailing and phoning subsequently. They have taken the ad down though so I guess that is a good sign.

So the car is all packed up with yet another complete set of household effects (I am getting very practised at this now) and we leave early tomorrow in the hope of having a day to settle in before setting off. So begins another new adventure. I suspect Nick will be quite a demanding captain, so I might be too exhausted to write up each day as it happens, but I will do my best. Up the Grand Union on a pair of Grand Union boats - what could be better?

Location:Plans, and impossible dreams

Blogpress ate my posts

2011-10-29T21:21:00.001+01:00

You might think that my last post was about meeting Sarah from the book barge. In fact, I wrote two other posts since then; one about the unpopularity of Petter PD2s possibly being due to the necessity of completely dismantling and reassembling them in order to fix anything, and the other a rather poetic account, with which I was particularly pleased, of the effect of the turn of the tide up the Torksey lock cut.

I hit save, as usual, and selected 'publish now'; got the message that my post had published successfully and did I want to view it now (I think perhaps I even did), and put the iPad away, a job well done. Or so I thought until I got home and looked at the blog, to find no trace of those two posts. Nothing saved in Blogpress either. Disappeared into the ether, never to be seen again. Unless of course you know of a way of retrieving them...

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Coincidentally...

2011-10-25T20:53:00.001+01:00

Here's another one of those little boaty coincidences... Last night I woke up at half past one and rather than lie there thinking 'oh my god, I've just spent all my money on a butty', I started browsing through boaty blogs, following up links, and looking at ones I've never read before, and the best of these was http://www.thebookbarge.co.uk/The_Book_Barg_1./Blog/Blog.htmle...The Book Barge
(No idea how that link's going to work)
... And guess who came along and tied up behind Chertsey in the dark at eight o'clock this evening...

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

A floating house with a lovely (if slightly leaky) back cabin attached

2011-10-24T20:05:00.001+01:00

It's been a long and convoluted process, with its share of disappointments, but it's all turned out for the best.

Yes, I have bought a butty; at least, I have paid over the money, so I hope it is safe to make the announcement. It is Bakewell, with a big steel conversion, commodious and rather well equipped, to make our boat dwelling lives easier.

I got the impulsive idea of getting a butty, ready converted, when I saw Bodmin advertised on Apollo Duck. We went and saw it, and hummed and hawed and hesitated, and as we were about to make an offer, someone else got in first. For a few days we were horribly disappointed. I'd seen Bakewell advertised, but the price seemed to be out of our reach. Then it was suggested that an offer might be considered, especially from a potential good home, so we went and had a look.

Well, it was much better than Bodmin on most counts; particularly the fit out, and the interior of the back cabin, which is reputedly original. Although its 'new' steelwork is a few years older than Bodmin's, it still has its original (repaired) knees, which Bodmin has apparently lost. While Bodmin was ahead in having a new Stockton Dry Dock steel backcabin, Bakewell's is more Waterways Ply than Warwickshire Fly, and will need replacing as a matter of some urgency, but oh, what an interior!

All the photos are taken from the Warwickshire Fly ad. by the way but I'm sure they won't mind.

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Pictures of mechanical destruction

2011-10-20T20:09:00.004+01:00

This (below) is the guilty part, photographed (none too clearly) on my phone. You can see the slot where the woodruff key went, and see how it's worn. I wanted to post a picture of the key too, but it's gone missing. It was very obviously deformed, with a number of grooves in either side.
The fuel pump itself is mounted on that plate on the right. It is gear, rather than belt or chain or cam, driven.

This (sadly out of focus), hopefully, is what it should look like. This is the spare entire assembly, complete with nice clean precise slot for the key.
And this is what it looked like after a visit to the local machine shop, cleaned up and with a new key in place.

There are more photos, mainly of the replacement parts, here, should you be so inclined.

Shafted (again)

2011-10-19T20:40:00.001+01:00

Well bugger, bugger, bugger. Once again the river Trent finds our weak spot. Last year it was the bearings on the fan shaft, and as a result the shaft itself, that needed replacing. This year it's the woodruff key on the shaft driving the high pressure fuel pump that has rattled itself loose, and in the process damaged the shaft.

The first manifestation of this was large amounts of black smoke as we left West Stockwith, which, rather than clearing, got worse. After half an hour or so, the engine started to miss, and the exhaust syack got so hot the paint started to peel off it (and, I discovered on finally tying up, melted through the Hempex back end rope). This, we subsequently learnt, was all because the badly worn drive mechanism on the fuel pump was putting the timing out. We had no idea at the time what the cause was; our first thought was dirty fuel in one way or another, and after that we ran out of ideas.

Anyway, we had little choice but to struggle on to Torksey. There simply isn't anywhere else to stop on this tidal section, apart from Gainsborough, which we had already passed. Torksey is a couple of hours from West Stockwith, and it's three or four more to Cromwell and the end of the tidal section. In contrast to our last visit, the pontoon below the lock was empty, so we tied up with a sigh of relief. The lockkeeper was as friendly and helpful as before, and is keeping an eye on Chertsey for us now, as we have come home to raid the heap of spare parts. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

Having ruled out dirty fuel or some other cause of fuel starvation, we were casting around for ideas of who we might ask for help - we'd already tried a couple of people recommended by the lockie, but they were either too busy or didn't want to get involved with an old engine. Then I had a flash of inspiration - Hairy Neil! Wasn't he relatively local... So I rang him to ask if he had any ideas and as he started asking pertinent questions about the problem, I remembered that he was a lorry mechanic as well as having lots of boating experience. Within an hour, he and his mate Paul were there, and not much later, had identified the problem. At this point it looked pretty dire, a new shaft to be made along with various bearings/bushes, and large scale dismantling of the engine to fit it. So, as it was getting dark, we shrugged and went to the pub. I had been looking forward to trying the White Swan's legendary steak pies, as a consolation prize, and while they were perfectly nice, and very welcome, they didn't quite live up to the billing of being out of this world. A minor quibble though; a pie, chips and peas apiece for the four of us, a few pints of Black Sheep, and a log fire, and we were soon feeling more positive. Despite the fact that we still have to be through Fradley Middle lock by November 7th!

Yesterday morning was bright and breezy again as we awoke on the deserted pontoon. Our forays from Clayworth to Retford stood us in good stead when I saw on the bus timetable helpfully displayed at the lock that we could get a bus from Torksey to Gainsborough, as I knew there was one from Gainsborough to Clayworth. We were ready in time to catch the 11.40, which connected faultlessly with the 12.35, and we were back in Clayworth by half past one. I've moaned about buses in the past but this was a most enjoyable journey, and only £2.60 for each leg - longer distances seem to be much better value.

So now we are home, and hopeful that we have a spare, in good condition, of the whole assembly, which might hopefully mean less dismantling. There were other spares too, in even worse condition than the one that's just gone. We now have to wait to get a new woodruff key made for it then it will be back up to Torksey as soon as we an to try, with Neil's help, to fit it, reset the timing, and test it by launching ourselves back onto the tidal Trent. Maybe we'll leave it a year or so after all before we come back.

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Silly

2011-10-16T21:19:00.001+01:00

Almost on the spur of the moment, we are back on Chertsey. Rather than try to accomplish the eight day or so trip back to Stretton in one go, we decided to spend a couple of days moving from Clayworth to Newark. This was mike's idea really, as we were trying to work out a way he could join me for this trip, freeing Jim up for the 101 jobs that are ongoing back at the house. It would have been nice for Mike too as he's not been on the Chesterfield or the Trent before, but sadly he turned out to be even busier.

We arrived at Clayworth at lunchtime, having had an enjoyable drive up the A1. We said goodbye and thanks to our lovely hosts at the Retford and Worksop boat club, and set off at two. There was much more water in the canal than we came up (praise be!), and we made steady progress. We had hoped to get all the way to West Stockwith, where we are booked to go out at 9.45 tomorrow morning, and almost made it. It was dark though by the time we got to the Misterton locks, and having made it through them, have tied up just below Misterton Low lock - yes, on the lock landing! We decided the chances of anyone coming through before we leave tomorrow were sufficiently small.

These locks are pretty short, and while we didn't notice it on the way up, going downhill it presented a bit of a challenge. It wasn't possible to get back far enough to steer round the closed gate (these bottom few being wide locks) so in three out of the four we ended up with Jim pushing the front across with the shaft.

More interesting were the cills. Of course it was possible, just, to keep clear by keeping the boat hard against the bottom gate, but the cills are at three levels, somit would be easy to be lulled into a false sense of security and let the boat drift back before you were clear; worse, the locks are rounded at the bottom and the lowest level of the cill extends around the side - and, crucially, extends beyond the cill marker. Now I know it would take a lot of doing (though stranger things have happened) but it could be possible to catch your rudder on this bit whilst being forward of the marker, if you weren't aware. The marker is a bit overexposed in this hastily grabbed photo, but you can just see it.

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Rot spots

2011-10-13T21:50:00.001+01:00

Today we went to visit Singapore, cosily tucked up in a nice dry shed at Frank Halls and Sons, Walton on the Naze. Jim discussed the work required with Gary, who will be doing it. We know that a fair bit of planking will need replacing, and in some places there are pockmarks already where rotten bits have been diagnostically gouged out. These are all above the waterline, where she has previously been repaired with various unidentified hardwoods. It turns out that the breasthook which needs replacing is the smaller, lower breasthook, not as we had assumed the larger one directly under the foredeck. This should make it an easier job and so is good news. The next step is to burn off all the paint so as to be able to make a really thorough examination.

After our visit to the yard we took a stroll into the town of Walton. This is a rather charmingly down at heel seaside town. The dereliction and sense of abandonment is very sad to see, but only reflects the fate of similar towns all around the coast. It is a shame though that the miles of golden sand are no longer appreciated by holidaymakers. I am looking forward to spending more time on Walton's lovely beaches.

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Back on the Regents Canal for a night

2011-10-12T21:45:00.001+01:00

My friend Mike, he who sold me Andante, has recently - and rather excitingly - acquired a trip boat business (www.canalandrivercruises.com) and last night I was one of the crew on Lady A as he took an office party of nine people for a three hour cruise and a three course meal. My role was to be standby reserve steerer in case Mike had to attend to anything else but everything went so smoothly I didn't have to do anything but keep Mike company while he steered, and work one lock (twice, though!). A professional chef and waitress were on board to work miracles in the tiny kitchen, and the passengers thoroughly enjoyed the trip. As of course, did I.

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Web log

2011-10-06T22:09:00.001+01:00

Staying with the salty theme for another post, I was as hard pushed as ever this year to find something original and suitable for Jim's birthday. Obviously a new boat project raises all sorts of possibilities, but where to start andwhatvwould he actually like? Fortunately he solved the problem for me by winning this on ebay.

Now, this is part of a whole new world opening up for me. Of course if you'd got me to think about it I would have said that I supposed there must have been some way for boats to know how far they had travelled, but would never have guessed at something as simple and elegant as the Walker's Knotmaster Log.

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Seaside postcards

2011-10-04T20:36:00.002+01:00

A couple of favourite photos from the sea trip. I've left them big so that you can see them full size and even zoom in.
A young seagul with - yes - a fish in its beak. That's Sizewell in the background. The first ever benefit gig I went to was for the Stop Sizewell B campaign. It featured Christopher Timothy, for some reason, and somewhere I still have the programme he signed. Despite my sixth form efforts, Sizewell B went ahead, and now I've seen it for the first time.
And this is us passing Felixtowe. I just like the contrast between the stark white yachts and the grey misty background. Of all the photos I took, there weren't many to choose from where the horizon was straight. I shall have to pay more attention to that.

All at sea

2011-10-02T18:22:00.001+01:00

We set off at half past eight this morning, out of Lowestoft Harbour and onto THE SEA. Everything went wonderfully well. The sun was shining and there was only a very light wind (most of the time), and not very big waves. We never lost sight of the coast, which made it more interesting. Having started to get a grasp at the deges of the rudiments of navigation, my appetite is whetted to learn more. We have decided that my total lack of any sense of direction can only be a help, as it means I won't be distracted by perfidious instincts from what the charts tell us.

The engine, which was a slightly unknown quantity, didn't miss a beat, and five and a half hours after leaving Lowestoft we were making our way through the Walton backwaters to Frank Halls and Sons' boatyard. On the way we passed Sizewell power station and Felixtowe and Harwich; Orfordness Lighthouse, and miles of sandy, beach hut bedecked coastline.

When we arrived Jim set off to get the train to Brundall, thence to collect the car. While I was sitting on the cabintop reading, an eledrly gentleman came along to see Singapore; he was Frank Halls senior, who had undertaken the extensive restoration work in the 1990s. He told me some interesting stories and I am sure there will be more to hear while we are here.

Singapore should be coming out of the water next week and going straight into the shed, which means we don't have to worry about her being exposed to the elements. I'm sitting in the cockpit as I write this, smelling the sea and listening to the squelch and sigh of the barnacles on the wall as we settle gently into the mud.

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In with the grotty yachties

2011-10-01T20:34:00.001+01:00

Tonight we are in the Royal Norfolk and Suffolk Yacht Club marina at Lowestoft. Our place on the visitor mooring is costing us £22 (@ £2/metre) for the night. How the other half live! The showers are perfecty OK, but have only curtains rather than boltable doors, on the cubicles. You're not allowed in the restaurant in shorts, but that's ok, because it's closed for a private function tonight anyway. It's been another long, interesting day.

We set off from Reedham at about nine. We'd booked to go through Mutord Lock - the sea lock at Lowestoft - at one, as they can't open the road bridge there between 12 and one. But we were told that of we got there before 12, he might squeeze us through. We got there at about 11.15, and were let into the lock. As it began to fill, the lock keeper asked where we were going, and we told him. Didn't we know, he said, that we'd missed the 11.15 opening of the bascule bridge from the inner harbour to the yacht club, so we'd have to waitnuntil 2.30 anyway. Oh damn, we said, no one told us about that. At which point the lock keeper got quite snidey, telling us it was our fault and we hadn't done our homework, to which we responded (quite reasonably, I thought) that we'd consulted the Broads Authority guy at Reedham - what else were strangers to the area to do but consult the local representative of the navigation authority. Oh, we we told, he doesn't know anything (which was incidentally exactly what the Reedham guy had said about the lockies at Lowestoft). It appeared we had stumbled into some local politics. Anyway, we kept our cool (for once) and I said that while inefficiency was forgivable, his rudeness and condescending attitude (especially as we had just handed over £11 to go through his bloody lock) was inexcusable. I also said how wonderful British Waterways were in comparison. At some point his colleague joined in and the upshot of the discussion was them saying, you were booked to go through at one so we're not letting you out until one, and going off for their lunch.

Which was the best thing that could have happened really as while we were having a cup of tea, who should turn up but Brian and Diana of Harnser, who live nearby and saw that we were in the area - they would have missed us if we'd gone through sooner.

At one we went through and suddenly we were in the sea, looking at great big tugs and trawlers. At last Singapore had salt water under her bottom again. We were supposed to be meeting the Moomins at the Yacht Club, but they had arrived well before us and were watching from the bascule bridge as we looked for somewhere to wait. There were no official moorings but they found a place where they could get onto the wharf, and got permission for us to tie up. So we were joined by them while we waited, and when the bridge opened at 2.30, they came along with us into the marina.

The Yacht Club being out of bounds for the evening, I used my Good Beer Guide app to find the nearest decent pub that served food and we ended up at the Norman Warrior, which was indeed very good, and we all had dinner there, after which the Moomins set off for home and we rolled out the eight foot wide bed again for an early night ready for an early start in the morning. Graham from Walton on the Naze is coming to pilot us there, and seems very sanguine about the prospect...

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A change of scene

2011-09-30T21:02:00.001+01:00

Having a lovely holiday... Picked up Singapore yesterday, took her from Thorpe St. Andrew to Brundall where we arrived ten minutes too latebto get diesel, but that meant we could spend all night on the diesle wharf, so that was ok. We went to the Yare pub for dinner which was not at all bad, and had a shower, which wasn't bad either, but nor should it have been seeing that it cost a pound, as it seems do most things on the Broads.

We set off this morning after filling up (at £1.21 a litre!) while is was still magically misty, and after a gorgeous day we are now at Reedham, Where the Lord Nelson was pretty dreadful but the Ship was OK, and we have just celebrated Jim's birthday there. Tomorrow onwards to Lowestoft where we are meeting Moomin tomorrow, and then on Sunday, Graham, who is going to pilot us to Walton.

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Where's that porridge?

2011-09-27T20:27:00.004+01:00

See the warm glow in the little right hand window...

This morning the time had come to try out the Rippingilles stove. Last night we half filled the tanks with paraffin, and left them sitting on newspaper overnight. As I had feared, we discovered this morning that the left hand one has a slight leak from one corner, but hopefully Jim will be able to solder it. It really does seem as if this stove has never been used before.

The tanks/burners fit in so tightly under the oven that it would be impossible to light the wicks and then slide them in, so although they seemed pretty immoveable, we reckoned that the mica windows inside the oven must slide open for lighting, and after a drop of WD40, this proved to be the case.

The porridge was very slow to cook; slower than on the double Beatrice at least, but that's hardly surprising. I think it might be slower than a single Beatrice burner too, but I'd have to test it out further. The wick is the same size but I suspect the Beatrice has a more efficient chimney arrangement. I put a small tin of water in the oven and that was definitely getting warm, but then I had to turn out and remove the leaky tank so gave up on that experiment. This chap has baked bread rolls in his though. I wonder also if there's scope for putting some insulation inside, between the burner chimneys and the outside casing, directing more heat into the oven and keeping the outside cooler.

In The Riddle of the Sands, which I have now finished, they move the stove into the saloon to keep warm, where it covers everything in soot and oil, and smells. Can't wait!

Getting into West Stockwith: The illustrated version

2011-09-26T19:44:00.002+01:00

Here, thanks again to Kate on Ding, we are actually getting into West Stockwith Lock. We'd got there a bit early while the tide was still flowing reasonably fast, and turning straight in, it quickly became clear, was a non-starter. so Jim turned Chertsey around in the river and we crept in against the tide. It was at this point that I was worried about getting too close to the bank, but sitting later watching other boats come in, they all seemed to hug the wall like this.

Then there was the effort of getting the back of the boat round against the flow before being swept past the lock. We made it, but it was harder than it was on Warrior.

Chertsey on the Trent

2011-09-25T19:49:00.002+01:00

When we were at Torksey we met a lovely little tug called Ding, built from scratch by its owner. They set off the same time as us, aiming to get all the way to Keadby, whilst we were stopping at West Stockwith. They set off before us, but we'd got the wind in our hair and some water under the prop, and reckless of the danger of arriving at West Stockwith too early, we found ourselves overtaking them. As we passed, someone was taking photos of us through the side hatch. Oh, I thought, how I wish I had a way of contacting them; I'd love to see those photos.

Then a couple of days ago I got involved in a CWF thread about going beyond the official head of navigation on the Chesterfield and right up to the tunnel entrance. I mentioned that we'd tried it too years ago on Warrior, but had very quickly given up. Hairy Neil posted that he'd just done it - and it turned out to have been with Ding! So I asked if he could put me in touch with Ding's owners, which he did, and Kate very kindly sent me these photos, and said that I could post them on the blog. Thank you Kate.

Tomorrow: proof that we did actually get into West Stockwith Lock!

Hellish road

2011-09-24T21:34:00.001+01:00

Today we decided it would be a good day to go into London by car and clear my office. I would be interested to know whether any other road route into central London beats the hellishness of the A23.

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This season's fashions

2011-09-23T20:02:00.002+01:00

We are now well into the throes of preparing to vacate the house in favour of No. 1 Son and bugger off boating for a year or two (that being the current, open-to-change-as-circumstances-dictate, plan). In pursuit of this, I spent the day going through my wardrobe. This is something that usually happens a couple of times a year - nothing to do with the seasons; I'm not that sort of organised person who has a winter and a summer wardrobe, with a little black dress, a signature handbag (whatever one of those is) and little furbelows for when you have to straight from the office to a party (oh, you don't either?). No, what I have is an addiction to charity shops, and before that, jumble sales. My wardrobe tends to grow at the rate one one or two items a week, on average, which means that roughly every six months, when I can't get anything else in, I have to have a sort out and send half of it back to charity shops again. Obviously this is something I am going to have to work on once I'm living in a back cabin.

Todays sort out was, therefore, far more radical. All those things that I don't really love, but are 'too good to throw away', no doubt bought because they were a bargain, I have bitten the bullet and put in a big pile if not for selling or freecycling, then taking to the posh charity shop where they will hopefully acquire appreciative owners. There are two other bags of less posh stuff destined for the local Sense shop - not because I have any attachment to that particular charity, but because it's a nice shop and, most importantly, they don't overprice things. I hate the way charity shops are getting greedy and pricing stuff as if they're a posh dress agency. When I give stuff to a charity shop, it's nice to know it's contributing income to a good cause, but that's not my main motivation. I do it to recycle, and because I remember when I had no money, and the charity shop represented a chance of getting good quality clothes at a price I could not only afford, but justify. To me that is still an important function.

So, a big pile of stuff for giving away, but other, smaller but significant, piles of stuff that I love too much to get rid of; or that is too pretty or special or irreplaceable; or that will come in useful in the future once the others are worn out. These have been packed into five big boxes. Then there is the smallest pile of all, stuff for actually taking on the boat. And I don't know how I'm going to fit that in.

However, I also have one new garment for future boating. A lifejacket. Now, I hate the very idea of putting on a lifejacket (for the same reason as I hate gym equipment; I don't expect anyone to understand). I have always thought that people who wear them on rivers are somewhat over-cautious (yes, it would be nasty if you fell in, but that's not very likely to happen), and people who wear them on canals, downright odd. But apparently at sea they are all the rage. As we will be moving Singapore from Lowestoft to Walton-on-the-Naze utilising that rather unreliable medium, I thought that for once I would follow the fashion.

Purple patch

2011-09-21T22:36:00.002+01:00

This is where I start to go through the photos from the last trip, and without the aid of the log, try to remember where we were on any particular date. This one is from the 20th and we must still be on the Trent and Mersey. Me having a bit of fun with the new camera (but no tripod).

Can I have a flake in that?

2011-09-19T20:29:00.002+01:00

The trip in beer

Goodness, they like their sparklers tight up there in the East Midlands. I really don't like beer pulled through a sparkler; for me it ruins it.

I got involved in a discussion about this on CWF, where I said:
My personal bugbear is 'sparklers' that put an artificial head on the beer at the expense of robbing it of its texture and flavour (and half an inch of beer). Some beers are brewed for this treatment but most aren't (certainly no southern beer that I know of is; it's a midlands and northern thing) and you might find it interesting to taste the same beer served with and without.

To which someone for whom i have a lot of respect replied:
Sparklers, interestingly, have far more effect on Southern beers, than Northern, reducing the harshness of an inferior brew. (That was sort of a joke... I think)
And he explained:
[T]he sparkler is like a shower head, on the end of the beer engine's swan neck (the narrow pipe, through which the beer is dispensed).
It effectively takes CO2 out of the beer, reducing it's harshness but making the head more bitter.
Drinking bitter through the head is much like drinking a good coffee through the crema.

I thought this was interesting, and made sense; although I could never prefer beer this way (to me it tastes like dishwater and might almost as well be John Smiths) I can now see how some people could, especially if that's what they (poor benighted souls) are used to.

Most importantly, Carl (for it was he) confirmed that beer served without a sparkler IS NOT FLAT
On the contrary, because the sparkler extracts CO2, from the beer, the liquid underneath tends to be flatter, than the headless pint.

So we have arrived at some sort of north/south detente. It was also pointed out that if you are being served three quarters of an inch of froth on top of your pint, it ought to be in an oversized glass, so as not to loose out on the beer. I am ambivalent about this. Oversized glasses just don't look right, and if you are daft enough to want your beer to look like a Mr Whippy then frankly you don't deserve a full pint. Also it gives pubs an excuse for not taking the sparkler off. Finally, beer is cheaper up north so it all works out the same in the end.

So, having set the scene, here is my round up of the pubs we visited on the latest outing. The grand total is only eight, which I was convinced must be a misrake, but I have checked with Jim and he can't remember any others either (he probably doesn't remember the White Hart at West Stockwith, actually). This is probably because we didn't actually cover a lot of miles, spending longer periods in one or two places. Here anyway is the roll of honour:

The Coopers Tavern, Burton upon Trent
Formerly the Bass brewery tap, this is a splendid and atmospheric traditional pub, but friendly with it. A wide range of different customers all seemed at home. Beer is served straight from the barrel (iirc) and there is just a small counter, no bar as such. Although it's owned by Joules I think it's a free house. Bass is available of course, and this is where I got my introduction to Thornbridge Jaipur IPA. A good start to the trip.

The Fox and Crown, Newark
Just popped in here for a quick drink with Dave and Izzy one evening. Perfectly OK pub, but not outstanding, and certainly outshone in Newark. I didn't see any evidence of the 10 beers promised by the website, more like three.

The Prince Rupert, Newark
I'm swooning just thinking about it. A stunningly restored fifteenth century building, great range of beer served by people who really know and care about it, and to cap it all, wonderful food too. Despite being new, it had a really nice feel about it; everyone was friendly and the surroundings very pleasant with lots of nice old signs and adverts.

Just Beer, Newark
What it says, basically. People who are dedicated to serving good beer from as wide a range of breweries as possible. The staff were welcoming and friendly but there's no getting away from the fact that it's basically a shed. One for hard core real ale fiends. I'd be a regular if I lived there.

The White Hart, West Stockwith
A very ordinary looking pub hides its own microbrewery producing some potent beers (just ask Jim and Adrian!). Good food too. The place to unwind after getting into the lock. (And out of it again, obviously. Sue wouldn't like it if you left your boat in the lock and disappeared into the pub for five hours.)

The Bricklayers Arms, Clayworth
Apparently renowned for its food and packed out on weekend evenings, but not so impressive for a lunchtime pint.

The Rum Runner, Retford
Surprised this place doesn't have its own website - it looked like that sort of enterprising outfit. Regular (mini) beer festivals, an antiques market... It promised a lot, but was disappointing. The Batemans beer was nothing to write home about; there was annoying background music and maddening, soulless halogen lighting. During the 'beer festival' there was a band on so a large crowd of us were shown into another room, where there were no tables and we sat in a circle like an encounter group. Jim and I and Adrian and Linda upped sticks at this point and finally went off to check out...

The Turks Head, Retford
Which was a pleasant surprise. Tatty thirties mock tudor on the outside, on the inside it was beautifully maintained and highly polished thirties mock tudor, with a warm and welcoming feel. And Youngs Special - the sparkler was definitely coming off that!

So, for the prizes... For atmosphere and history.. The Coopers Tavern. For dedication to beer... Just Beer. But the overall winner, for beer, food, surroundings and service, by a mile - The Prince Rupert.

Hope to be back soon.

Into West Stockwith

2011-09-18T19:56:00.002+01:00

As I mentioned at the time, Adrian and Linda were waiting to welcome us at West Stockwith, Adrian armed with his camera (lucky it wasn't video!). We subsequently discovered that all the other historic boats had stopped on the wall and been pulled in on a rope at slack water. We hadn't really thought of mentioning that we were a historic boat, and none of the lock keepers further upstream had said anything, so we just attacked it as we had on Warrior two years previously. Now, that went remarkably smoothly - a combination I guess of luck and Warrior's powerful engine - but we were still approaching it with some trepidation having heard many tales of how difficult it is; worse than Keadby, some say, and there was no way I wanted to repeat the Warrior Keadby experience, especially in a rivetted boat.
We set off downstream on a falling tide, and once again arrived earlier than expected (it would be helpful actually if the lock keepers told you when to arrive, rather than when they think you should leave, as there is such a range of different possible speeds) and it was still flowing fast; it was a big tide anyway. With less power than Warrior, and more length to be caught by the current, it was always going to be harder on Chertsey to repeat the feat. Trying to steer straight in, we were swept past, and so had to turn into the flow and come back upstream into the tide. The worst bit about this was worrying about getting too close to the bank and running aground. The other danger of course was hitting the wall. Fortunately we did neither; Jim held his nerve and after a bit of a struggle got us into position to get into the lock without hitting anything. Sadly, by then Adrian's camera had run out of memory so that small triumph was not recorded for posterity.

Many thanks to Adrian for the photos here; just a small selection of the ones he took.

That paint job... at last

2011-09-16T18:46:00.003+01:00

Blogging on the iPad is great, but it's really only practical to post photos taken with the iPad itself. When you look at these in the blog on an ordinary computer, they look terribly low-res; click to enlarge them and the resolution actually improves. No, I don't know how that works either.

Of course this trip was the first boating outing for my new Canon EOS 500D digital SLR. I've been umming and ah-ing about getting one for years, as I loved my old film SLR, and Jim took the decision out of my hands by buying me one for my birthday (and I'd only asked for a Beatrice stove and a mangle). But it is so new and precious that I didn't dare get it out as much as I would have done the (now tatty) old Canon compact; an irony which I shall have to overcome.

Rewinding to August 17th, and we arrive at Alvecote to pick up the newly painted and signwritten Chertsey. Exciting if not nerve-wracking for me, so hard to imagine how Martin must have felt as he delivered it from the dock at Grendon under our waiting gaze.

As you can no doubt tell from the photo, I was delighted with Martin's paintwork, and Dave Moore's signwriting. The overall effect is everything I'd hoped and more.

There is evidence and sound reasoning behind the unusual combination of signwriting and colour scheme which I chose - inspired by a comment from Paul (Capricorn) at Braunston last year. This represents a very short lived paint scheme (probably used in 1948 only) from the period immediately following nationalisation when the GU boats (because they were directly owned by the canal company) has passed into the ownership of the Docks and Inland Waterways Executive (who were already branding themselves 'British Waterways' although the British Waterways Board as a body didn't come into existence until later), but before FMC had sold out to DIWE and before the yellow and blue BW colour scheme was developed. In short, boats that were repainted at this time were painted using existing stocks of GU paint, in its wartime 'austerity' colours, but with a different layout, and signwritten 'British Waterways'. If you have a copy of Sonia Rolt's A Canal People there is a photo on page 96 which shows this clearly.

I leapt at the chance to use this scheme because the austerity colours are my favourite, and if Paul hadn't made his suggestion I probably would have gone for that livery - but the layout's not the most aesthetically appealing with its lack of coachlining. The GU/BW scheme also had the attraction of being original, and thus interesting, and it seems appropriate to be memorialising the British Waterways name as it seems likely to disappear next year (though whatever the new charity is called, to some I guess it will always be 'Waterways' as it has been for the past sixty plus years).

There is no evidence that Chertsey was ever painted in this scheme and to be honest it is vanishingly unlikely. The only photo I have of Chertsey prior to being sold by BW in the early 60s is the very early one that is reproduced in The George and the Mary, in spanking new GU two blues. All else is guesswork, so that guess is as good as any.

There are a couple of non-BW touches: the heart on the cabin slide, and the diamond on the deckboard. Both of these are aspects of Richard Barnett's paint scheme (it would be stretching things to call it a livery) which Chertsey has carried for more than half its life, from at least 1970 to the current repaint (in fact, I still have the old deckboard with its paint intact). So like the boat itself, the paint scheme is something of a pastiche, different areas representing different phases of its life, which I think is OK.

And it doesn't half look nice.

The colours by the way, as recommended by Phil Speight, are Craftmaster Union Blue (not, he was insistent, the darker Oxford blue often seen in austerity schemes), S. C. Crimson (gorgeous), and Cream.

Ripping yarns

2011-09-15T21:25:00.002+01:00

Oh, we have been buying some things (I know I never posted the promised photo of the inappropriate bling, but we'll get there in the end. This is even more exciting).

It was Jim MacDonald, on Elizabeth (a fascinating boat) who said, when I was complaining at Alvecote about the Primus, that we should get a Beatrice stove. So we did (although not as nice, or indeed as cheap, as this beauty, albeit the same model). When our paths crossed again at Retford, I mentioned how pleased I was with it. Jim (M.) then said that he'd spotted a Rippingilles stove at Newark antiques market the previous week. Too my shame, I had never heard of one of these, although they get a (relatively) famous mention in Erskine Childers The Riddle of the Sands, which I immediately downloaded onto the iPad and began to read. I also Googled a few pictures and decided that this was definitely something worth looking at, so as Jim had just collected the car from Alvecote, we hopped in and set off from Retford back to Newark last Thursday. The market was somewhat denuded as there was a big event on somewhere else, and I though that we wouldn't see it after all, until Jim (C.) nudged me and whispered 'behind you!' and there it was. Having seen it of course we had to buy it.
It's in astoundingly good condition and looks as if it's never been used, although I suspect it's lost its original hotplates. It is, of course, paraffin fired. It has two tanks/burners, each with a 4 1/2 inch wick, two hotplates on the top and an oven in the middle. They were made by the Albion Lamp Company of Birmingham, from around 1880 onwards. Not many were sold in Britain as by this time most households (at least those in the market for this sort of thing) had gas - at least, so Wikipedia tells me. But they were a big hit in the colonies as you might imagine. My reproduction 1907 Army and Navy Stores catalogue carries four or five different models, as well as some gorgeous enamelled heating stoves. None seems to have the ornate cast iron sides of ours though.

It is destined for Singapore, where it should look absolutely gorgeous. As to whether it will cook, that remains to be seen. It seems a shame to put a match to those wicks after all these pristine years. Isn't it wonderful though.

Another twelve hour day, but rather more miles covered

2011-09-13T22:53:00.001+01:00

Here I am back on my Newhaven sofa, after another day of travelling, only mostly by road this time.

We left Retford on Chertsey at eight this morning, setting off after Aquarius, Thea and Elizabeth - and after Jim on Elizabeth fished a shopping trolley out of the canal just above the lock and thus solved the mystery of the recently appeared lump. Progress was much faster today than inthe opposite direction last week and we were back at Clayworth in three hours. It took us another half hour to tie up as we fought the wind to find a place where we could get reasonably close to the bank, and then rather longer than we had envisaged to transfer a surprising amount of luggage back to the car.

Then we were off at far higher speed, on our way to Norfolk, where we met up with the marvellous Keith from Boatshed who handed over Singapore's keys, and a box file of information and history - she's a well documented boat. Then it was back on the road to home, where we arrived at about eight pm - another day of twelve hours travelling, but rather more miles covered than yesterday.

Tomorrow I'll get on the big computer and take a look at the photos I've taken with my new big camera, and no doubt they will inspire some more posts. In the meantime, here is one of the less nutritious meals enjoyed on the trip.

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Sticking point

2011-09-12T21:09:00.002+01:00

It's been such a busy few days I'm afraid I've failed to post and now probably can't remember the best bits. I'll try and update about the weekend later, at home, when I can post some decent photos. For now, let's stick to today.. And a bit of yesterday.

Part of the HNBOC mission for this little gathering was to see which boats could and couldn't get into Stret Lock, and where and how they stuck. All the locks on this canal are narrow (except the wide ones, if you know what I mean) but Stret it particularly so, having been rebuilt to accomodate boats 6'10" wide, snugly. HNBOC are very active on preserving the ability to navigate the canals and in my view this is very valuable for everyone, not just owners of historic boats. If we can get through, then everyone should be able to; if navigations start to get narrow, or shallow, or obstructed, historic boats are the early warning system. Someone on CWF a while back asked if it was really so important to maintain canals to accomodate seventy foot boats (as the issue under discussion was mooring near bridgeholes, this included modern seventy footers too), as these represent a small minority of canal users. I wonder if he will be saying the same when it's no longer possible to navigate his sixty foot boat...

So, I was very keen to contribute in whatever small way I could to this project, which meant leaving at lunchtime yesterday in the company of Bath, Aquarius, Petrel and Aegir (not an historic boat but a lovely old one with beautiful aged varnished paintwork). As usual we were the slowest by a mile, and got stuck a few times. Below Retford the problem was mostly mud, but up here there are more rocks and other hard impedimenta. We stopped at Osberton at eight, and set off again at quart past seven this morning.

Bath and Petrel (and Aegir) know they can get through Stret and were planning a jaunt to the head of navigation (so far); Aquarius is on the Chesterfield for the first time, I think. We had been up the year before last on Warrior, so sort of knew what to expect, though you only ever remember a fraction of it. Now though we were six inches deeper and the canal was six inches shallower. And we were a couple of inches wider, of course.

Of the boats that tried last week, Thea was unable to get into Morse lock, the one before Stret, so we knew this would be the first challenge (apart from the bends, the lack of water and the wind, of course). We were leading the pack this morning and so were the first to try. At first it looked as if we would get in; the lock looked no different from the previous ones and Chertsey was sailing in quite smoothly - so much so that I thought I should
slow down a bit so I engaged reverse... and stopped dead, three quarters of the way into the lock and unable to move forwards or backwards. We looked all around and there was no obvious sticking point, suggesting that it was most likely below the waterline. There were no crunching or grinding noises either; it was all very gentle and graceful. After walking round stroking our chins and taking photos for a bit, Chertsey was extricated by flushing some water through. We reversed back to the nearby winding hole, turned round and set off back to Retford, duty done. I don't think our sticking in Morse was entirely conclusive, and suspect we may have been stuck on the bottom rather than the sides, but it seems that discretion was the better part of valour as we heard later that Aquarius successfully got into and ascended Morse, made an unsuccessful attempt at Stret, but then got firmly stuck in Morse on the way back down, necessitating sending for the support boat (Petrel) and a Tirfor.

We had enough adventures of our own on the way back as it was very, very windy. Mostly this wasn't a problem directly, but if we did get out of position, it made it hard to redeem the situation. It was also very tiring and drying of the throat, leaving me croaking my despair at points. Now of course, when we got stuck (which happened twice, seriously) there was no friendly travelling companion in the form of Bath, and no welcome sight of Dave approaching on his bike. We were on our own. Both times we managed, eventually - each took a good half hour and the second time we jettisoned a fair proportion of Chertsey's 100 gallon fresh water supply. I'm not sure that made the crucial difference as the level in the canal seemsd to rise slightly too, but as that water weighs a ton in total it might have helped. It's quite a simple process anyway, just turn on the taps and after a while, switch on the bilge pump.

We did get back eventually of course, exactly twelve hours after setting off this morning. It was a rainy night and a damp early morn so I lit the stove. The day soon brighetned up but I kept the fire going and finally made a plum and apple crumble with the plums Val gave us and the apples from Izzy. It cooked as we went along and was done to perfection when we tied up. I'm so stiff now I can hardly sit up to write this. Obviously I am getting rusty and need to do more boating!

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Tired of life?

2011-09-08T10:16:00.001+01:00

When a man is tired of London, he is tired of life, Samuel Johnson famously said. I can only guess that London in 1777 was rather less tiring than it is now...

Although, looking that up to check the date, I see that he said it before he'd actually moved there.

I spent the afternoon in London yesterday, and I couldn't wait to get back to the boat.

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