Retail therapy

I may have mentioned before the irresistible lure that charity shops exert upon me, especially when I'm in a strange town with unfamiliar stock. I've had many a treasure over the years, including most of my wardrobe. The strangest find must surely have been the Measham teapot that turned up in Newhaven, of all places. So when Ali came down, after we'd exhausted what Newhaven had to offer (PDSA, Sense and Searchlight) we set off to Lewes, where I think we found and explored seven outlets. On the whole they seemed very expensive, and we didn't buy much. But their prices were as nothing compared to the one (Barnados) we popped into in passing in Brighton, which was unbelieveably dear (£12.99 for a pair of very obviously not new boots? I think not). Presumably they know their market and are selling stuff and bringing money in at these prices, but I can't imagine who's paying them.

All of this was by the way of introducing a link to Charity Shop Tourism, a blog with great promise, but, like the shops themselves, often something of a disappointment.

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.

In preparation

Today has been a day of preparation. We started by stocking up on provisions at Morrisons in Rugeley, then visited Rugeley's rather excellent hardware shop (I finally got a proper paraffin funnel for the Primus, and some handles for the back doors, among other delights) and hit a few of the charity shops, enabling me to acquire a splendid multi-coloured mohair cardigan, obviously unworn and a rejected gift from someone's doting auntie; well, rejected no more. This will be my chilly evening party wear for the duration.

We got some diesel from Kings Bromley Marina, and finally bought a couple of bus bulbs there too - should you be looking for a source of these 12v, 15w bulbs with a standard bayonet fitting. We filled up the water and replenished the oil, and loaded the coal, bath, bicycle etc.

Then Jim rubbed down and primed the back doors, so they will soon be rendered weatherproof. We chatted with Blossom, and Brian from Harnser, who came by. Then we went back to the Old Peculier in Armitage (or is it Handsacre) to try out their menu, and it was good, and the landlady was nice, and the beer was decent (especially for Jim, as they have draught Old Peculier, as you might imagine). So now we are all fuelled up and ready for the off tomorrow.

Look what I've got NOW!

This is proving to be a very lucky week for acquisitions.

On returning from Kings Bromley on Saturday, Jim found on Freecycle a lightweight folding camping table - exactly what we were looking for for Chertsey - and was lucky enough to get it.


But this just about beats everything. Look what he just brought back from the local tip:

A real, proper, old tin bath. My heart's desire. And it doesn't leak either. I even reckon it should just about fit in the cabin. I have been after one of these for so long, and never thought I'd find one. And what did it cost? Only 50p more than a pint of Harveys in the Warwick Castle.*

*£3.80

Long day's journey into Long Eaton

We are now the last remaining (albeit somewhat involuntary) guests of John and Sheila... over the this morning and yesterday the crews of Petrel, Lacerta, Sharpness and Bath have quietly slipped away, although their boats remain; only Sharpness with us out on the canal, the rest n the private arm. The gazebo has been packed away, the empty beer barrels removed, and no trace remains of last night's happenings except, of course, the railway track leading to the shed where the tram and its coaches now sleep. Did I dream it all, I wonder...

So today we had to get to grips with practical matters, and Trevor (owner of the steam locomotive) ran us into Long Eaton to show us where the bearing shop was. We never investigated Long Eaton last year when we were on teh Erewash; I think we might have stopped for a paper. It has the usual collection of shops in a soulless pedestrianised high street, but very few people using them - a glance through one of the alleys showed why - the vista opened out of a gleaming new Tesco Extra. Ho hum.

I was expecting a man in a brown coat with a pencil begind his ear, but in fact the bearings counter was staffed by a woman (Sue) in a Trent Valley Bearings t-shirt, who very quickly got to grips with what we needed and told us they would get the bearings etc in for tomorrow. Meanwhile I had noticed a leaflet on the counter saying that among other things they also did machining, sso we left the shaft with them too. Sue rang back later to say that they could remake the shaft, at what seemed a reasonable price, so we have asked them to do the lot. We even popped back later with the casting so with any luck they will assemble it aall too - and that should be done by Wednesday.

With hindsight a secondary purpose of the Great Trent Thrash was o find out any weak points, and if this is the only one - and the oily exhaust is cured - that doesn't seem to be bad going.

This evening we made our way over to the New Inn for dinner. We ate there last year and found it most acceptable; this year was no different, and the beer is good too. Whilst in town I nipped into a house clearance shop. I have never seen so many pianos. I wonder f they ever sell any, or if they have just been collecting them, since about 1953. I selected six nearly new books - four of them hardbacks - and was charged all of £1.20, so was pleased with that.

Today we have been getting on with little jobs - I have done some washing and all the exterior brass (and bronze, as I now believe the portholes to be), while Jim has wielded the scrrewdriver. Tomorrow I shall finally varnish the paintings on the back cabin hatches, and get on with the interior paintwork, with the set of rather super brushes I bought this afternoon.

A funny thing happened today too... Yesterday, a boat was tied up next to us and was tied to Chertsey's mast. When moved by a passing boat it dragged the mast out of position (it's not fixed at floor level yet), also shifting the deckboard considerably. We planned to try to put it right after visiting Long Eaton this afternoon - but when we got back, someone had already done it.... Truly, Shardlow is a place of mystery.

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...

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!

Shopping and painting

Just a quick update of the last couple of days... Yesterday, as planned, we did painting. I started with a third coat on the engine room baseplate, and then we tackled the hold. We'd sucked out the water on Sunday, along with a lot of vegetable matter (if you'd asked me whether oak trees had flowers, I suppose I would have said they must do, but I had never actually had to give the matter any consideration until this week. I can now state categorically that they do indeed, lots of them, with little petals that once wet and then dried out get stuck to everything). So once it was dry yesterday we had to brush all of the detritus off and hoover it up again. And then, hooray, what might be the final coat of red oxide in the hold (that's at least five, up to about a foot, and three above that). And then, not fed up with painting (ha) we disposed of two gallons of blacking in the course of starting a fifth and final coat. Needless to say I was knackered by the end of that, and fell into bed at ten, only to awake at one to the unfamiliar but unmistakable sound of rain on the cabin top. Thank goodness the red oxide's quick-drying! - and we don't have to worry about the finish.

This morning it was still raining, so painting was out of the question (my disappointment, obviously, knew no bounds), so we did the obvious thing and went shopping instead. In fact first of all Jim had to track down a bit of the ducting that was missing from the new engine (because of the way it had previously been installed), and when he had successfully done so we went off to fetch it, which was very interesting and I got to meet Ian Kemp at last, and look at his PD2 in Comet, which is instlled exactly as Chertsey's should and will be. Then on the way back we dropped into Midland Chandlers for a brass shackle for the chimney chain (more on that soon), and left with two giant mooring pins, a spare windlass, a sixteen foot ash shaft, a cabin shaft (in kit form), 30 metres of exhaust lagging, a headlight, and a few little bits besides. What's more, we left with everything that was on the list, which is a very rare occurrence.

Change of scene

Yesterday we decided to take a break from painting and do something different. It turned out to be a lovely day, although not quite in the way that we envisaged. The plan was to go to Market Drayton, to visit a sawmill that had been suggested to us by a local chap, Andy, who was blacking his boat here (we last met him three years ago when he was last blacking his boat here). He'd already rung them up and got a quote for the wood we need for the hold floors, bearers and planks which seemed very reasonable so we thought we would go and see them, and on the way back pop into Newport where we had heard tell there was a shop selling cheap beer.

So off we went to the sawmill which is in a village called Hales, near Market Drayton. There's a Hales school, a Hales Club, Hales sawmill, Hales lodge and lots more besides. If I nipped up there in the middle of the night with a few apostrophes hidden about my person I could own the lot.

The people at the sawmill were very helpful and positive about what we were trying to achieve, which was a good sign after many frustrating phone calls to timber suppliers all over the country. We ordered the softwood there and then, and then Jim asked, could they get oak? Yes, they could get oak. Air- or kiln dried? Whichever we wanted. Hmm. Can you get iroko? We've got iroko. Ah. Could you cut it to shape, if we gave you a pattern? No problem. This seemed to bode well, but I won't put out the flags until the softwood arrives and we see what it's like... which should be in 7 - 10 days.

So very happily we trooped out, only to find that the car wouldn't start. The battery was completely dead. Bit of a mystery, no sign of any problems previously. Jim thought it might be the alternator, so went back inside to call on the goodwill of Hales Sawmill, and very wonderfully, they sent a very taciturn chap around with the forklift to jump start it. We then thought we had better head straight back as being a relatively modern engine (1988) and petrol to boot, it needs a modicum of electricity to run at all, something that hadn't quite occurred to me at the time. So we were going hell for leather, watching all the electric guages going mad, and thinking we might make it, and even stop off at the Volvo breakers on the A41 to see if they had an alternator, when we got stuck behind a tractor turning right and ground to an ignominious halt. What I forgot to mention is that neither of us had brought our phones with us! So there we were at the side of a busy road, half on and half off the carriageway, trying to look distressed, and although it seemed longer it couldn't have been more than tem minutes before a bloke in a transit stopped and asked if we were all right. Now I know that is the standard form of greeting in these parts but he really meant it. Anyway, the upshot was that without further ado he towed us to a garage in Newport (where I think he said his brother worked).

In the ten minutes or so at the side of the road Jim had a closer look and identified the cause of the trouble - a wire had come off the alternator; the battery hadn't been charging for ages. It seemed odd to thank our lucky stars for breaking down there, but better than on the way home, on the motorway. The Tan Hill Garage (big plug, lovely people) fixed the wire and supplied a new battery, and when I went to pay the bill, all they charged for was the battery, and that wasn't dear. Our knight in shining Transit wouldn't take a drink either. This is why the day was so good - meeting the sort of people who really do, in the words of the cliche, restore your faith in human nature.

And it wasn't over. While they were sorting out the car we went off to find the cheapo shop (I hate supermarket shopping, but I adore independent cheapo shops where you never know what you're going to find) and it didn't disappoint. In fact it was so good we had to go back and get the car before filling our trolley with lots of beer (proper brands from 99p for a 500ml bottle), Pataks curry pastes in obscure varieties you don't find in Somerfield, thai curry sauces, wasabi paste (trust me, I told Jim, you'll love it), an air bed and pump for the guest accomodation and a crisp white cotton sheet for my Chertsey bed, socks and lots more besides.

And that's still not all, because on the way to the shop we passed a chip shop where the most lovely couple (very exotic looking (Cypriot, apparently) but broad Black Country (well, she was, he didn't speak but he smiled a lot) were lovely and friendly and sold us really nice chips for lunch.

So yesterday was a lovely day, marred only by the fact that come the evening I had developed a really annoying cough that kept me up much of the night and left me feeling quite wretched despite the splendid old fashioned cough mixture I bought in the cheapo shop (It's called B&M and it's where Woolworths used to be if you want to seek it out).

Today is very hot indeed, too hot to paint so I am going to settle down and read a book about the Gloucester and Sharpness Canal which I am reviewing for CanalBoat. It's nice and cool in Chertsey's cabin though, despite the blazing sun. One of the benefits of wood I guess.

Enough rope

It's spend, spend, spend now (well, until the money runs out). I've just taken delivery now of some ropes (sorry, lines) for Chertsey. Or some rope in the form of lines, perhaps.

I decided to get Hempex, as that is what we have on Warrior and I have been very pleased with it. It looks good, it's long lasting, and it's comfortable to hold and use. We bought Warrior's at Crick, three or four years ago, and we had it in our minds that it was 14mm, so that's what I ordered this time. Unfortunately, it turns out that what has come isn't quite 14mm, but 1/2 inch, and it looks quite a lot thinner than Warrior's - although I suppose it may get fatter looking with age. Anyway, I think I will stick with with it for now, especially as it is in lengths, already spliced (yes, I know, I really must learn to do it myself).

What lengths of rope you should have, for handling and tying up, seems to be a matter of some controversy. Based on my experience on Warrior and Tarporley, I've gone for four interchangeable 10m lengths; one for the front, one for tying up the stern, one for the back end and one for spare - which can be joined to one of the others if I ever need a longer one. 10m might seem a bit long for tying up, but I'm working on the basis that it's easier than faffing about with separate ropes for that, and sometimes I'm not going to be able to get close into the bank. Also it's good to be able to take the rope back to the boat after tying it off, and when using a ring I like to just put a loop through rather than the whole length of the rope as it makes casting off from the boat so much easier. Ideally, I'd probably even have liked them a bit longer, but that might just be me. Only experience will tell me if I've got it right.

By the way, a quick update and a good word for Trafalgar Marine, who we ordered it from. Jim rang them up about it and they were very helpful, including offering to take it back. The guy checked and agreed that it wasn't 14mm, and said that they would send the whole lot of their remaining stock back to their suppliers. Meanwhile I've decided that it looks fine from a distance, and as it was a special offer I'm sticking with it.

Chertsey's chimney

One of the things we did at the Little Venice Cavalcade was to collect the chimney that I have had made for Chertsey. It's quite difficult to get hold of a traditional-style stove chimney; mass produced versions are not only flimsy, but far too short. If you were standing next to it all day, you definitely wanted something that would carry the smoke way over your head - so working boat chimneys tended to be around 30" tall - and were often extended further with an old tin; traditionally a National dried milk tin. (I do in fact have a suitably ancient Ambrosia milk tin, but I am a bit loath to chop it up for this purpose, and anyway, being a shortarse, I probably don't need to).

At least one person who used to make old fashioned chimneys has recently stopped, but someone else has stepped in - Mike Pinnock (junior), of Clover and Fazeley, who Jim found through CWF (yes, CWF saves the day once more). Mike is happy for me to pass his number on to anyone who's interested in getting a chimney made, so do let me know if you would like it.

The chimney is all handmade, including the brass handle: and hook:with the chimney itself being made of riveted stainless steel, (The rivets in the seam are also stainless, and the copper ones are affixing the brass.)

with brass bands and aluminium D-band around the top.

It's single-skinned, so I may need to think about putting a liner in it. I'm very pleased with it. The finish isn't perfect, but then I wouldn't want it to look like a mass produced thing. It's solid and chunky and handmade, and I think very fitting for Chertsey. I can't wait to go up and put it on, along with its chain - and see whether my careful measuring was accurate. I shall also be measuring up for the engine exhaust pipes, and putting in an order for them next.

Speedy to Ely

We left Cambridge yesterday morning, with the Ducks along for the ride. Amy, being incredibly assiduous and self disciplined, spent almost the entire trip inside working, while James made the most of the opportunity to steer Warrior - and to check out what Moomin calls the Warrior Warp Drive with James's GPS... while simultaneously playing with the rev counter in the engine room. The speed limit for much of this stretch is 7mph/11kmh so we were looking forward to trying to break it :-).

Well, we almost managed, reaching a top speed of 10.7 km/h (6 2/3 mph), and cruising comfortably at around 10 (6 1/4 mph), but this is nothing compared to what Warrior used to be capable of, before Dark Deeds were done... Last summer, when Jim stopped for a pumpout, a chap leapt completely uninvited into the engine room and fiddled about with the governor. 'It was running a bit lumpy', he told Jim, 'But I've fixed it now'. It's just as well I wasn't there or I would have exploded but I think it was only later the full significance emerged, which is, in short, that Warrior's maximum revs are now limited to less than 800 (so we needn't have bothered with the new pistons after all then, huh). To think what might have been.

We had to be sure to arrive in Ely in plenty of time to revisit the Riverside Antique Centre and the pound shop. Sadly the pound shop really had sold that tin of primer, but the antique centre came up trumps. I finally got my sailor shirt (I got a blue serge one as it seemed better value and more practical; I think it's German. There must be a website where you can look these things up... something for anorak anoraks). We also got what we went back for - this:

On the label it says 'chimney hood' but to Jim when he spotted it it screamed 'big sheet of reasonably heavy gauge copper that you've been after for years'. So this will be cut up and flatened out to provide a big piece to go behind the stovepipe in Warrior's saloon and hopefully there will be enough left over to do the same for Chertsey's.

Whilst hanging about in the vestibule of the shop waiting for Jim, my eye was suddenly caught by this:
An attractive piece of horse brasswork.... or a chimney chain? Yes, it will be a shame to dismantle the original piece of equipment (whatever it is) but the stitching attaching the chan to the leather is already worn or rotted away (someone has tried to stick it down with silicone, which will be fun to remove) and couldn't be redone without dismantling the whole thing, and I like to think that re-using it like this is part of an honest and respectable tradition. (I await Blossom's verdict with trepidation...)

And finally, I went and fell in love again... this time with this wonderful, silk, eiderdown.

It is so light and fluffy, so beautiful, so redolent of another age. I imagine snuggling up under it, or, as it's only a single, wrapping it around me, on cold or sad evenings... it will be immensely comforting, as well as warm, and far easier to look after than a dog.

Bridge of Sighs and size of bridge

What a super day we had yesterday. A late start saw us waking to drizzle (again) but undaunted we set off to meet Amy for a spot of charity shopping. We visited at least seven different charity shops, randing from the very chi-chi and expensive, to the wonderfully down to earth Salvation Army one. I succumbed to a new bag, with rather nice embroidery and a pair of what will be forever known as my Cambridge Pixie shoes, in lovely soft green leather and with the suspicion of a pointy toe. Very Cambridge.

We took a break half way through for lunch, and afterwards met up with James, who had been to Ely on a wild goose chase after a tin of Hammerite primer that Jim had seen in the pound shop but that wasn't there when he got there.. Sorry James.

Having done Commerce, the late afternoon was devoted to Culture and Amy and James took us on an unofficial tour of the University taking in the splendid University Library and some of the colleges, including their own (Clare and Selwyn), and St Johns, which we had a particular reason for needing to visit.

Where we are moored now, below Jesus Lock, is the normal limit of navigation, but the head of navigation is a little further upriver. Between April and September, powered craft aren't allowed beyond Jesus Lock because the river is thick with punts, but outside that season, it is possible, with permission, to take a boat through. The other problem is that there are some pretty low bridges (exceptionally pretty in fact), but James reckons that Warrior's low profile is perfectly suited to a trip along the Backs and up to the Mill Pond, so we went to have a look at the lowest bridge, the charmingly named St Johns Kitchen Bridge - which was best viewed from the Bridge of Sighs - a copy of Venice's famous landmark. Jim reckons it'll be fine!

Having been on our feet for the best part of the day - it was by now nearly seven, and we must have walked miles - we made our way back to the boats having agreed to meet up at eight at the Fort St George, before going on to Cambridge's newest and most wonderful (and that's against some stiff competition) real ale pub. So, a quick dinner of sardines on toast, get the fire going for later and to dry my boots, slip into a clean t-shirt and my new shoes, and off out again, to see not only J&A but also the legendary Big James and Emma from Kestrel, for a quick pint before pressing on again.

Another long walk brought us to the Devonshire Arms, recently reopened in an entirely new incarnation by new owners the (local) Milton Brewery. The bar staff were wonderfully knowledgeable and enthusiastic about the beers (and cider) they sold, and it was all fantastic - just what I like beer to be (northerners look away now) crisp and clear with no head at all, definitely not fizzy, but not flat either, but a sharp, cleansing liveliness; glass filled to the brim, and no trace of foam or scum clinging to the sides on the way down. I started with the hoppy, golden Icarus, which was lovely, and then tried the Pegasus champion best bitter - which was also great. Jim stuck to the Nero stout which even I - not a lover of dark beers - could tell was lovely (but I couldn't eat a whole one). We also tried to convert Amy with the lighter Tiki, which for a not-so-strong (3.8%) beer had masses of flavour. And finally we shared a half of the 8.8% Caligula, smooth and sweet and scarily drinkable, although fortunately for me not quite my cup of tea. I fought Jim for the finishing of it though, and won.

Amy falls amongst real ale drinkers

And then - last orders being at midnight - we finally made our way back through Cambridge's deserted midnight streets to the river, and bed, where we slept the sleep of the virtuous who have spent the day in wholesome exercise... and awoke this morning to bright sunshine and the prospect of a pleasant trip back to Ely later.

Shopping in Ely and arriving in Cambridge

Still doing this retrospectively... so much easier than worrying about getting back from the pub in time, though I can report that we made a triumphal entrance into Cambridge yesterday evening and are tied up to Melaleuca on the visotor moorings just below Jesus Lock. They'll be leaving today and heading for home but we have time to hang about and explore this lovely city with its unbelievable quotient of good pubs, and have been promised a tour round the colleges by James and a charity shopping trip with Amy. But that's all in the future.

Back to yesterday and Ely... The Moomins set off relatively early, along with the Ducks, leaving us to follow once we'd had a look round Ely. It is a really nice city with beautiful buildings and good shops. There is a super housewares shop, not cheap but the best stock I have ever seen anywhere where we had a happy browse and I bought a sieve. Then on to the pound shop - again another marvel of its type with a wide variety of bankrupt stock as well as all the usual plastic boxes and cheap mugs, both of which we stocked up on as well as some springs(!)as Jim is still seeking the perfect one for the gear lever. He has replaced the previous one which was a bit feeble, with one that is a bit too strong. I prefer it, as now when you put it in reverse it stays in reverse, but it's quite an effort to get it back into forward and there is always the exciting possibility of losing a finger in the process. Then, scarcely able to carry our bounty, we pushed on to Waitrose... ooh, to be rich and classy and shop here all the time... for chick peas and spinach (the need to eat something healhy hving kicked in). After that we had to come back to the boat to drop all this stuff off before heading off to the antique shop.

Now this was really good, but ot in the way I was envisaging. We didn't buy any antiques although I was sorely tempted by a big enamel cooking pot, and fascinated by an egg preserving copper, but on the top floor there's an army surplus stall, which was utterly brilliant. Not least because normally when browsing army surplus you're being supervised by an army surplus psychopath in full combat gear, and secondarily because by London/Brighton standards, it was amazingly cheap. I could have got the sailor's top I've always wanted for a fiver (and probably will when we go back, although it's not really practical) but then I tried on a 1940s vintage Swedish naval (did I even know there was such a thing?) jacket and it fitted perfectly. And it has nine pockets including two great big ones on the back and it was £10. So I had to have that. And exploring further, I finally discovered a replacement for the anorak I've been attempting to pension off for a while. This has done good service, having been bought when we first had Helyn, but I am now the proud and very warm and comfy owner of a brand new, US government issue (Jim reckons) extreme cold weather parka, and by golly it's lovely. And it's not even khaki.

The shopping done, we had lunch and finally set off at quarter to three... only to stop five minutes later when I noticed that the habitual drip of oil from a long-term leaky joint had become a visible drop and a puddle. An impressively quick and effective repair was made with self amalgamating tape (well it certainly impressed me) and we were on our way again. The Ouse was still intrinsically dull but the sun had finally come out to bestow upon it a superficial sparkle, and that makes all the difference, and anyway, we were soon on the Cam, which might look exactly the same but is more romantic.

And then we were coming to the outskirts of Cambridge and surely one of the last really anarchic moorings left in the country... about which Jim and I had a trenchant disagreement... and then into the city to see the Duck on Midsummer Common, and James on the bank, and rowers all over the river, and right on up to the lock, the normal limit of navigation, dinner of chickpea and spinach curry, then off with Amy and James to the Elm Tree for more super beer, but time only to sample the one pub, which is why we will have to stay for a few days.

Roses and ratchets

I was browsing in the charity shop last week (not unusual of course) and I saw these curtains, so I thought I had better snap them up for Chertsey, remembering the trouble I had finding suitable fabric for Warrior's. Somewhere, of course, I still have plenty left of the lovely big linen curtains I made Warrior's from, but can I find it? Of course not.

Interesting, isn't it, how the pattern of yellow and pink roses and little blue and yellow daisies crops up again here, the same as in Warrior's different fabric and very reminiscent of traditional canal painting.

And by way of contrast, I've got myself a nice new ratchet, thanks to Jim spotting it on Tooled Up.

Sixteen quid and next day delivery. Wonder if I'm going to get the chance to use it in the next few days?

Jumble tale

Before we took up boating, out main weekend leisure activity was going to jumble sales. I was introduced to this rewarding passtime in my teens, by my friend Penny, much to my mother's lower middle class horror. Back then I mostly used to buy dreadful clothes for being a teenager in.

Then - must be fifteen or so years ago now - I introduced an equally horrified Jim to the concept and he was immediately hooked. We'd go nearly every weekend, sometimes to two or even three, in the surrounding villages. The quality and quantity of stuff was generally high, and the prices low. A lot of the stuff we bought didn't stay around long - it's in the nature of the activity that if you're not sure about something, you buy it anyway and think about it later - but looking around the house now I can see dozens of things that have become part of the furniture (literally in some cases) that originated for a few pence in a village hall. Pictures, including a number of nice Victorian prints; a lovely piece of needlepoint; a Mamod traction engine (one of Jim's great triumphs, beating a trader - boo hiss - for it), a Whitefriars glass vase, the overmantel in the front room (stripping the paint off that was a job and a half), a beautiful brass and copper coal shovel, my first ever purchase on the adult return to the sport... the list goes on and on... the kitchen scales, the lovely 1960s tableware that we use every day, literally hundreds of books, hand embroidered cushion covers and tablecloths, hand made lace trimmed linen...

In recent years though things have tailed off. Fewer jumble sales take place - partly because of the costs of getting rid of the unsold stuff. There is less stuff to sell, because people can ebay it, or Freecycle, or take it to the charity shop or sell it at a car boot sale, rather than waiting for a local cause to come and collect it. For the first time in ages, I strolled down the road last Saturday to the local Lifeboat jumble sale. We were promised great things, but it was very disappointing; mostly just a load of rubbish and very few clothes, all of which were dreadful. I came away with a (brand new, boxed) Prestige wall-mounted tin opener, an aluminium measuring cup (period piece for the boat), and a set of Tala metal pastry cutters, which I don't need but they were in such good condition. Baz bought a novelty folding clothes brush which is entertaining but totally ineffective, and we clubbed together to stump up two quid for a new multi-storey cage for Aaron's hamster, Beanz. I think that the glory days of jumble are over, but I have some great souvenirs.

Bargains galore!

Last week I sent off for some 'all occasion' cards from the IWA shop. At £4.95 for 25, and with little detail given, I was dubious as to what they'd turn out to be like. Well, they are excellent. Good solid card, blank inside, with a nice water colour view of Cassiobury Park Lock (albeit with modern boats in, but you can't have everything, and they are quite blurry) and best of all, a substantial 8 x 6 inches. Great birthday cards at under 20p each. Buy them while they last! They're on this page here, second item from the bottom.

What's more, while searching for 'cards' I came across this collection of waterways postcards 1900-1930, compiled by Hugh McKnight - a really substantial book, packed with gorgeous illustrations, and all for £2.99. Make a brilliant present to go with one of those cards.