Constant hot water

Well, I never did tell, did I what our secret source of fun was. It was... whisper it... being on the committee of HNBOC. Oh how we love a committee (until we remember how much we hate it, that it). Jim has been co-opted as Fens rep, and it appears (subject to a sample press release) I may be about to become their press officer. Last Saturday we went to a committee meeting, prior to a very interesting and enjoyable presentation of photographs of Birmingham by Bob May. So there it is, our secret vice revealed.

And so to bring this bang up to date, here I sit in Chertsey's cabin, the kettle burbling away and my cheeks reddened from the heat of the stove, looking forward to setting off tomorrow for what promises to be a bit of real winter boating. I did see a forecast last week that promised as low as -9, so that's what I shall claim it was, as I don't have a thermometer. I am, wardrobe-wise at least, fully prepared for this eventuality, starting with two thermal vests and finishing with the arctic parka, while for lower down I have my marvellous three sizes too big jumble sale Rohan padded trousers, and more thermals. Less dance of the seven veils, more pass the parcel.

So, hopefully we are all set. The car shuffle has been done (dear old Fang starting first turn of the key. Tufty, we have discovered, is a summer car, as the heater doesn't work. I returned from Braunston last week all wrapped up and with a blanket over my knees - proper motoring!) A quick lok at the new mooring shows it to be very nice indeed, and I was reminded that not only is there a toilet there, it actually has heating! Oh luxury indeed. Tomorrow then, we should leave with the dawn. Allowing three days for a trip that would take only two with longer daylight hours, so should be OK.

It lives!

Just when you were ready to write it off, I finally have something new and boat related to write about. Apologies to anyone who both noticed and cared about the long absence. For a bit there, I just couldn't be bothered. All blogged out. Taking a well-earned rest. And nothing, but nothing, happening on the boat front, apart from worrying about Chertsey languishing in the cold and damp 200 miles away.

However, all that is about to change. Next weekend we shall be moving Chertsey to a new mooring - or, in fact, back to its previous temporary home at Stretton on the Shroppie. We'd become increasingly disappointed with the mooring at Kings Bromley. It has such potential, especially as a wharf for old boats, but this just can't be realised as long as there's nothing to tie up to, piles of rubbish, and the already grim toilets are never unlocked. So when I heard that Keith was planning to let a couple of long term moorings, I leapt at the chance to take Chertsey back to a yard where we've always felt welcome and comfortable, since we first arrived there with Warrior back at Easter 2006.

Plans are starting to firm up for next year's work too; I have made tentative dates to get the gunnels (and various other bits of timber), and then the cloths, made after Easter next year. Both of these will be done at Braunston, by Pete Boyce and Sam Noon respectively. The plan is to go to the Easter gathering at Ellesmere port (for the first time by boat), and then to head back down to Braunston.

Meanwhile, next weekend will see the start of the short trip to Stretton, and then after that we're going to be taking Bill and Michelle's boat Shilling from Stretton to their new mooring at Tardebigge - another new adventure.

In the meantime, i.e. yesterday, we have been having fun as only we know how, which I will tell you about tomorrow. Or perhaps the next day. But not too long, I promise.

Winding in the rain

Today we did finally make it up to check on Chertsey - albeit as briefly as you can get away with when it's a 400 mile round trip. We had waited in vain for the weather to improve, and given the heavy rain decided that we really had to go and make sure that the pump had been working and that all was otherwise well.

The visit didn't get off to the best start, with the discovery of a (very damp) BW ticket firmly attached to the boat... I shall regale you with my further Adventures in Licencing once I have spoken to the various BW bods involved tomorrow.

The hold also looked suspiciously wet, with water well over the floors in the back end and extending about half way along the boat. More than there should have been if the pump was working, but less than I'd have expected if it wasn't. The mystery was solved when Jim discovered that the hose had worked its way loose and found its way back into the hold, so the pump had, for a while, been recirculating the water. Amazingly though this hadn't significantly drained the battery, so things were looking up. My patent rainwater diverter (pictured below) also seemed to have done us proud and prevented the entire rainfall landing on the roof of the adjacent building ending up in the hold.
In order to charge the battery, in the end, we did have to wind. There were other disadvantages to facing the other way too, mainly that it wasn't possible to get directly onto the back of the boat. So we took the polythene sheeting off the engine room (it too had been very successful in keeping the rain out), fired up the engine, and reversed to the marina, winded in the entrance, and reversed back again. By the time we had achieved this we were pretty much soaked through.

Tying up on this moorning is quite fun, as one end of the boat is against the side of a building, with no means of stepping off; neither is there anything particularly prominent to catch hold of or lassoo. What it entails is me (in this case) standing on the front with the cabin shaft and using it to hook the (knotted blue) rope we've left neatly coiled in an elder which is growing out of the side of the building, and tying this round the t-stud. The other end of the rope is attached to a chain which is somehow attached to the wall. At the other end, it is possible to get off, but again we leave the rope attached to the bank because it's looped tightly behind what appears to be a bit of reinforcing steel holding up the wall. Still, we seem to have it down to a fine art now.

So Jim set up the charger, I dried everything that had got wet in the course of our short outing, and positioned a vital bucket under the bull's eye, which is still dripping, and no sooner was that done than we were off again... when what I really wanted to do was light the stove and give the old girl the TLC she deserves.

Famous Blue Raincoat

Not every day I get to give a post the title of one of my favourite songs. Anyway, the plan to cover the hold entirely in blue polythene was put, ahem, on hold. Jim did fix the batten all along the sides; the idea was to take out the mast and stands, put the planks down the middle, spread the sheeting across this, and fix it with another batten on top. The scheme foundered on the fact that it was windy and rainy and we were fed up, and also the realisation that once done there would be no way of getting from one end of the boat to the other, as although the planks would still be there, the polythene would be too slippery to walk on. So we decided instead to put our faith in the new float-switch pump, along with my cunningly designed device (not pictured, unfortunately) to prevent the downpipe depositing the entire rainfall landing on the adjacent roof directly into the hold. This consists of a strip of polythene sheeting (it's heavy duty damp proof course stuff) cable tied to the downpipe and extending down below the outlet between the hull side and the wall - hopefully sufficient to divert the flow straight into the canal.

The engine room does sport a raincoat however, attached to battens extended back from the gunnel timber over the steel gunnels. This is mainly to stop rain getting in above the hatches, which are vulnerable on both sides, having no drip (which I am assured is the proper term) above them to prevent this. This is something we are going to have to add. Most other boats seem to have them, either in wood or steel.

We are now facing the other way on the mooring. This is partly because we couldn't be bothered to wind in the marina entrance and then reverse back to the mooring, partly for a change, partly because we might want to go the other way next time, and partly for more privacy, as the other way round, Chertsey backs onto the back end of the next boat along; this way we back onto the front end of Minnow. The downside is that you have to walk along the planks to get from the bank to the cabin, and we couldn't get the back right in because it's shallow there. We might have to do a bit of dredging.

New old friends

As luck would have it, just when I desperately need to correct yesterday's post (thank you Blossom and Dove!! I was lying awake worrying after I wrote that; I knew I'd got it wrong, I was dead on my feet and not thinking straight) and for the first time in ages the signal's so feeble I can't even leave a witty comment on my own blog! Rest assured I will put it right and cover my shame as soon as I possibly can.

Day 11, Penkridge to Great Haywood

Now, what can I get wrong today? Hopefully nothing much as it was rather uneventful. There seems to be a lot more water than when we came up, more too than yesterday, when we did have trouble getting out of Rodbaston lock. I went off on my bike again, which was good fun and I suppose good exercise too. We had thought about trying to get all the way back to Kings Bromley today - another day pretty much like yesterday, and you've seen what that did to me, so I thought better of it this morning and we decided to go for a later start and spread the final leg over two days. As it turned out, that meant a 10.30 start and as a result of that and the bike, me helping a lot of people through the locks. I never mind that though, always a pleasure with my trusty Duntan windlass. And one of the people we met, Paul, I really hope to meet up with again. He came up to Jim and said 'That's Chertsey, isn't it?' - bearing in mind the boat still bears no identifying marks. Paul told us that his father and uncle both worked at Les Allen's, and did Chertsey's rebottoming in the eighties. He was a fund of information about the time Chertsey spent at Oldbury - which goes back even before Richard Barnett's ownership and includes the 'missing years'. I've given him my contact details so I do hope he'll get in touch - he even said his uncle might too.

Now I just have to hope that this will post...

Fending for myself

Well, not really, but you must know by now that I can't resist a terrible pun... Anyway, fender news later.

Back to last night in the beer tent... What with the dogshit and the fair and the multitudinous yoof, I didn't start out with high hopes of this festival. But the beer tent was excellent. There were over a dozen beers, from memory, and some ciders, all served without froth on the top much to the consternation of the locals. There was great music from a couple of blokes, one with guitar and voice, the other with woolly hat, extravagant moustache and electric violin. Their country-y/folky/familiar standards set a super atmosphere and we were in there from about seven until after midnight. I would say however that the number of beers on offer significantly outnumbered the number of available toilets, which seemed a bit of an oversight. Oh god, that dogshit...?

There was the obligatory raffle, and I'm afraid I won a prize. As always, my luck is just sufficient that my number is drawn after the bottles of scotch, the bottles of wine, and the bumper sized boxes of chocolates have already been picked off, leaving behind the unwanted gifts and the items that are worn about the corners from having been passed from raffle to raffle. My trophy was one of those collectible (why?) Wedgewood plates, this one featuring a whimsical scene of horse drawn boats (carthorse drawn, to my untrained eye), attended by bonnetted and neckerchiefed people while a red steam locomotive (the future!) thunders across the viaduct behind them. Even if I liked hanging-up plates, which I don't, it is twee beyond belief. But given the alternatives (two men's handkerchief sets, one spotted, one with those brown borders which had obviously been doing the rounds since the seventies); a satin (satin! And as near to black as makes no difference) duvet set, or another plate, this one featuring illustrations of knots. In German) you will see why I came away with this particular souvenir of the evening.

For some unfathomable reason (I hadn't eaten off my new plate: 'Decorative art object. Not for food use. Unusual colour pigments may contaminate food') I was feeling rather delicate this morning, not to say bilious, and have been carrying myself around carefully and feeding myself small morsels all day trying to build up my strength for tonight's onslaught on the beer tent. I fear the music will be louder tonight.

There are a number of small stalls here, and I have got myself a rather good mirror to put on the table flap, round, and thick glass with a bevelled edge. I asked the woman how much, she said a fiver. I hesitated, and she said, 'It's old!'. My quizzical look acknowledged the undeniable truth of this, as it was mounted with rusty clips on a piece of plywood embellished with chipped plaster flowers. No, she said, I mean really old, antiquey old, it's at least fifty years old... I asked her if she'd take three and settled on four.

The other major purchase of the day was a front fender, finally. Not quite traditional as it's black polyprop, but it is wrapped in a section of tyre to stop it snagging and getting worn out, so that hardly notices. Until we can get some staples to attach it to the cants, it's tied with blue string to the hinges of the deck lid, but it doesn't look bad and hopefully should stay in place and absorb a proportion of the impact of the inevitable blows on lock gates.

Rain rain

It's been tipping it down here all day. Never have I watched the weather reports for the west Midlands with such morbid interest. However, the sort-out we had over the last couple of days unearthed a Rule bilge pump - with float switch! It's not as powerful as the pump we currently have installed, but would have the inestimable advantage of us not having to go up and switch it on every time it rained... The hold offers a large catchment area for rainwater, which then all collects in the back end and once above the level of the floor - four inches, which doesn't take long - it's lapping about the bottom of the paint tins etc, making them rusty.

Of course, the ideal situation is to minimise the collection of water by diverting it over the sides with some cloths, but I need to regroup the finances a bit first; the gunnels are going to set us back a round thousand pounds, and pretty much the same again for the cloths. So for this winter, I reckon it'll be a case of keep pumping.

Drilled and pinned

Finally finished attending to the tiller too. Jim has ground the swans neck down sufficiently that the long tiller bar goes right on. He's got the gang of steering it like this now, which is good, because I like it (and need all the leverage I can get). He's drilled it to take the tiller pin, which is the pair of the one Warrior has. It's not actually a sawn down poker, though it looks like one; its a built up handle from something, three separate bits held onto a threaded rod with a nut (which you can just about see in the photo). It probably doesn't need a pin at all to hold the tiller bar in place, but when you have one as nice as that just looking for a role...

Got it covered

We'd been trying to invent some means of making a cover for the air cooling vent so that when the rain was horizontal (or bouncing off the cabin top) it wouldn't run down inside the trunking. And to no avail - although I have since seen a boat with a specially made wooden box that goes over the top. Then Jim came back from a Lifeboat event with two reflective rucksack covers, intended to make cyclists more visible (hence they are emblazened 'East Sussex Fire and Rescue'). Right size, strong elastic, and even a securing strap to go underneath. Perfect. Now all we need to do is find and seal the leak where the water seeps under the flange.

No crumbs in my crumb drawer

Ah, the crumb drawer, the concept of a special drawer just for catching crumbs surely the result of some old boatman having a good wind-up at Tom Rolt's expense. Never be caught calling it that, I've been told; death to credibility. And of course, the idea is daft when you think about it.

Nonetheless I do find myself calling the knife drawer the crumb drawer, for one very simple reason: the bloody crumbs get in there regardless. All over the knives (or in my case useful odds and ends). Always I forget to sweep off the table after making sandwiches, tip it up, if only to get past, and ooops, another load of crumbs in the drawer.

But no longer. I have installed my lovely Formica tray, government stamped 1963, which I rescued from being thrown out by the university just before I left Huddersfield. (Long term readers may recall the adventures of the yucca plant that was rehomed at the same time, and travelled on Andante's fore end from Huddersfield to Stretton). This tray not only looks the part, it is big enough to capture all the detritus of sandwich preparation and, indeed, most other culinary activities. The useful things drawer is now much cleaner as a result.

Flawless floors

We brought the floors from Chertsey's cabin home on Saturday, to clean them up. I'm going to paint the side bits with red oxide, but the removable central sections are such nice wood - solid oak again - that they will look better unpainted. The paint would soon wear off anyway, and while I quite like that look, I like old wood better.

The floor comes out in three sections. There's a single plank that lifts out first, and gives access to the greaser for the plummer block that supports the propshaft, a short section of four planks at the back, which comes out when I want to see how much water's in the stern tube drip tin (very little lately) and the rest a larger section forward. There is a slight hitch in that I seem to have left the single plank section behind, on the bank, in the excitement of removing the larger sections. It should be sitting there waiting next time we go back... I hope.

Jim has sanded the floors to remove spots of paint, old varnish and dirt, and oiled them. They still look lovely and dark and old. Also, he's got his router out and cut a rebate in the underside of the floor where it sits above the propshaft coupling, as it has been rubbing slightly. Had we had it here, he'd also have made a recess in the plank for the plummer block greaser, as when it's full the floor pivots on it.

Castles in the air

And other little jobs.

Having bought a set of nice brushes yesterday, I finally got around to putting a first coat of Craftmaster varnish on the roses and castles on Chertsey's hatches. This was a job which was long overdue. The paintings date from at least the early 1970s, and very possibly earlier. Because Chertsey was unused for so long, and the hatches shut tight, they were protected from the elements. Now the boat if being used, they are exposed to the sun and the rain and of course this is fatal to the fragile old paint, which was already starting to crack. I haven't attempted any repairs or repainting, nor have I rubbed them down at all, I didn't dare, so the patchy patina of discoloured old varnish remains. All I did was gently clean off as much dirt and grime as I could with a weak detergent solution, followed by meths. Hopefully a few coats of varnish now will preserve them in their current state for years to come.

I've also been making progress with the interior painting; it is a very slow process in such a small spacem constantly having to move everthing around. Meanwhile Jim has been cleaning up in the engine room and has wrapped the heatproof bangade around the exhaust. So lots of little jobs are finally getting done whilst we're laid up here waiting for our part to be made.

What happened before we left

Now I'm getting round to retrospectively organising my Chertsey photos, starting with last month's. June was a very busy and productive month, starting with collecting the new engine, and ending at Braunston. That bit's already been covered; the rest of the story is here.

The great British (boaters') barbecue

Shades of Abingdon, 2008... Bones and Maffi will remember.... Of course, the first time in three weeks that it's rained and we have a barbecue. I have drunk two bottles of Old Empire (5.7%) so forgive me if this is even less coherent than usual (and is that dripping noise the stern gland, or is it something to do with the kettle cooling down... and if I don't check now, will I have sunk by the morning?)...

Now, the barbecue came about because in Sainsbury's yesterday I spotted some reduced price, top notch, kippers. Now kippers I can take or leave, but Jim is particularly partial. So we bought them, thinking to fry them in the big frying pan I had brought from home as a (unsuccessful) experiment, but lunchtime frying on the Primus proved rather a messy and stressful business so we decided to try and do it outside, but the Primus simply would not light outside as there was a very slight wind. So we thought, well, the instructions say grill them, so perhaps if we got a disposable barbecue we could do that. Whish is what we did and how we can to be having a barbecue, complete with beer, in a heavy drizzle this evening.

Today... Jim took up the floors in the engine room and found two inches of water, which had ingressed at vaious points including the hatches, and a bolt in the handrail (now, not entirely surprisingly, discovered to be substantially rotten). He also fixed down the electrical conduit so all looks nice and neat, and, hopefully, tightened up the fitting so that the second water tank doesn't leak.

This morning was spent exploring Rugeley, which - of course - was much better than our first impression. The charity shops weren't outstanding, but I did get a new pair of 501s for £3.50, a nice little hammer for my useful things drawer (ex crumb/knife drawer, though there are a couple of knives in there) and some more net curtain wire (well, you never know when it will come in handy). A good hardware shop too, but sadly the fastenings shop we noted on our previous fleeting visit seems to have bettten the dust.

Had to light the stove to fend off the rain, then spent the afternoon doing marking while Jim slaved away in the engine room.

Oh god, I'm pretty sure it's the sterngland. But there's no point looking til the morning is there...

Tanks anyway (ouch)

Thanks in particular to Andrew for your comment yesterday. The answer is that I have no idea, and yes, it was to fit the fitting already on the tank. Which it now turns out, leaks anyway. But more of that later. You should have seen the palaver required on the other tank (although at least that doesn't leak). Anyway, they're in, raised up on stout wooden frames so that we can get a bucket or can underneath. So we now have a 200 gallon fresh water capacity, and pretty much nothing to do with it - no toilet, no shower, no water pump, no taps. We are indeed a travelling water point, and happy to fill anyone's can for them! Listing a bit at present, as we filled the first tank before realising that the second one leaked. And as always listing to starboard so that I'll be tilting the wrong way in bed. Why is it never the other way? When the gunnels are done we will probably have boards across the back end covering the tanks - neat and hopefully convenient.

Yesterday when we arrived, Blossom was here and we had an enormously long and entertaining chat about his youthful escapades. Hence we didn't start work on the tanks until today.... Have decided to leave the sterngear be pro tem as it hasn't leaked a drop, but we will do it before we go anywhere. Especially as the next place we go might be out onto the Trent (again, so soon?) to give the engine a 'good thrashing' (technical term) in the hope that it might cure its oily exhaust.

Packing it in

Look what I got in the post this morning. Lovely half inch stern gland packing, ordered yesterday afternoon from Uxbridge Boat Centre and posted at cost. See how glossy and sinewy it looks - a million miles away from the rather tired and dry bit of string (which I reckon probably wasn't even half inch) that we got at Braunston from a well known person who shall remain nameless. Wish we hadn't even bothered putting that in now!

Home on the Cheese Wharf

Well, I've heard it called that, from back in the days when this was a dairy. So here we are, another relatively uneventful four hours has brought us to Chertsey's home mooring, from where we will do a bit of a car shuffle in the morning and then set off for home... well, for the house.

Took advantage of a quiet few hours to make Chertsey a bit more homely, putting up a brass rail and curtain for the porthole, and another rail over the bed to hang things on, plus some hooks for hanging up mugs. Jim has tracked down the oil leak that has been making a bit of a mess of the engine room... he thinks it's inside the cowling, necessitating the removal of the canvas ducting I spent much blood sweat and tears on. The dynamo (or the regulator) isn't charging the batttery, so that will need to be looked at. And we probably need to shove some more packing into the stern gland. But apart from that everything is super.

We had Atherstone pies again tonight, so lit the Epping and had plenty of hot water for washing self and dishes. This time while the cabin cooled down we vistited the Swan at Fradley junction, seemed like a very nice pub, lots of beers and well kept, but lacking in clean glasses when we visited. We have also acquainted ourselves with the facilities at Fradley, as these will be our local ones.

On our way home

A couple more books to add to the list - but at least that post stepped in yesterday when I couldn't get a signal. June's boring waterways picture will, however, have to wait. We're well and truly on the way back to Kings Bromley now. We stopped in Atherstone last night, feeling completely worn out as the exertions and excitements of the last week caught up. However, a bit of a wash and a cup of tea perked me up and we set off for the drink I'd promised myself at the Market Tavern. This was a bit of a disappointment though; while still a nice enough pub, gone were the Church End Brewery beers. Haveing been too exhausted to make sandwiches, we'd checked out the various takeaways on the way up the High Street (Atherstone has loads of fast food joints, and about eleven pubs. I don't know what the population is, but it's certainly well-served) and settled on the Raj Mahal, where the man who took our order was somewhat unenthusiastic, but the food, when we returned to collect it and served it up on returning to the boat was super, and exactly what was needed. Lacking an outdoor taple, Jim took the cabin slide off and laid it on the grass to provide a base for our repast.

While waiting for the food, we completed a survey of Atherstone High Street in preparation for a shopping trip this morning. There is one shop, called Toolbox, which looks tiny from the outside, but when it was open, and its wares spread across the pavement, turned out to be an Aladdin's cave of oldfashioned hardware; still tiny inside, a warren around which only one-way perambulation was possible, where we were able to furnish ourselves with fuse wire, paraffin, net curtain wire and various other arcane essentials. Atherstone also boasts a few charity shops, where we were quite successful, acquiring (ahem) a set of kitchen scales (to take home, I hasten to add), a lemon squeezer, some shorts and a brand new pair of boots for Jim, a 1953 coronation mug (I have an Edward VIII one, so now I just need George VI) and a couple of books.

But what of the boating? Well, it's becoming less eventful, in terms of groundings and collisions, and consequently even more enjoyable. Met a couple of people today who knew or knew of the boat, including one man whose parents had steered it in BW days. We didn't leave Atherstone until one (oh yes, we got pies too of course) and have stopped just short of Hudddlesford Junction, leaving a relatively short run to Kings Bromley tomorrow. Then tidying up, packing and.... Well, it doesn't bear thinking about really.

On parade

Oh dear, two posts to backdate; I really must be slipping. But a combination of the lack of signal at Braunston (no hint of the free wi-fi that the marina offered last year) with being rushed off my feet during the day and exhausted at the end of it, finally pushed blogging off the agenda. I will make up for it now though. Today we paraded for the first time, with me steering, and although it was slow and sometimes lass than graceful, we neither hit anything nor got stuck anywhere, which I count a success. Because I was on the boat I didn't get any photos, but I was later given a print by a reader, who is goung to send me an electronic version, of a really brilliant photo of Chertsey at the end of the parade, having survived the obstacle course through the marina, complete with its rather neat (even if I say so myself) chalk signwriting. So a photo of us setting off instead.

The other really notable thing about the day - and indeed the whole weekend - was how many people dropped by to see Chertsey. It was wonderful to see you all, and I'm sorry if you didn't all get the attention you deserved, it was just such a hectic day. One of the visitors was Richard Pearson, a long time friend of Richard Barnett who knew both him and the boat when Richard B. first bought it. He shared many anecdotes and it was just lovely listening to someone who knew the boat back then.

And to prove it

I'm now writing this crouched on the grass in the shade of one of the Admiral Nelson's outside tables. The sun's still beating down and everything is idyllic. Here's a picture of us arrriving yesterday.