Rain, rain... and I'm not away

I love to sit inside watching a good downpour. My favourite spot is sitting in the back cabin, by the nice warm stove, with the slide pulled over but the back hatches open, watching the rain shine the boats, wash the hedges and buildings and replenish the canal.

This on the other hand is the view from my office window... I wish I was on the boat!

Boat baby bonnet

When Eloise came to visit us at Braunston, the sun was beating down and her mum and dad were not best pleased that she refused to keep her hat on. Ah, I thought, what she needs is an old fashioned bonnet that ties under the chin (nice wide straps, not nasty cutting elastic). I wondered whether one of the craft stalls would have one for sale, but no. I found the next best thing however, on the Lichfield and Hatherton Canal Trust's stand - a diy bonnet kit, which I purchased as Eloise's (first) Braunston souvenir present.

Well, today I finally got round to making it. The kit came with plain white fabric, which I didn't really fancy, so yesterday I bought something a bit prettier, a nice old fashion printed cotton, and used the white pieces as a pattern. The instructions were mostly easy to follow, though I was glad I had some experience of sewing, putting in gathers etc as they were not very detailed. It was quite fiddly, because it was so small, but the finished product was quite impressive with all its frills and furbelows.

Naturally, Eloise still didn't want to put it on, so here is Tweenie the teddy modelling it instead.

Farewell to Warrior

On Friday we went over to Bill Fen to prepare Warrior for the handover to Adrian and Linda, the new owners. It was sad to be saying goodbye to a boat we'd put so much into, but it also felt right passing it one to someone else who'd fallen in love with it at first sight, just as we did.

Perhaps unwisely, we left the final pumpout until Saturday morning, only to discover that the weed in the marina made it impossible to reverse. So Warrior's new owners arrived to see us poling the boat across the lagoon (and wondered if we'd taken the engine out!) and then became better acquainted with the rather arcane Bill Fen pumpout than they had perhaps intended.

After Jim had gone over everything again, and I explained where I'd hidden the fire extinguishers, it was time to take our final leave.

Over to you Adrain and Linda, and I hope you have many happy years cruising on Warrior.

(and let me know if you want to take the blog over - I'm sure it can be arranged as it's on a separate account from this one!)

More hecticness

Hectic times at work as we enter the season of exam boards and discover things that should have been done four years ago need doing NOW, tracking down marks in a system generously described as Byzantine, rounding up people and mollifying external examiners... And of course all go on the boat front too which means for the last few weeks my feet have hardly touched the ground between weekdays at work and weekends boating.

This weekend again we shall be off, firstly to Bill Fen, for the handover of Warrior to Adrian and Linda on Saturday. On the way we shall stop at Craftmaster's new works at Over (very handily placed) and collect the paint for Chertsey. Then after the handover we'll leave Adrian and Linda, and Warrior, at Bill Fen and drive over to Alvecote to drop off the paint with Martin, and just maybe have a pint or two, but then it's home again on Sunday ready for work bright and early on Monday.

A bouquet for Braden Motors

Do you recall we had a bit of a car saga just before setting off for Braunston, the first time, necessitating another few hours on the phone swapping the insurance around. The problem was that Fang's (well, when you've got three cars that are essentially the same, you have to differentiate somehow, hence Bluebird, Fang and Tufty. In the past there have also been Trusty Volvo, Thrusty Volvo, Rusty Volvo, Snowball, the Silver Beast and the Flying Brick. And there was Crusty Volvo, but that was an honorary title for the CF Dormobile camper)... Fang's automatic gearbox's high pressure oil cooler pipe had sprung - or decided to reveal - a leak.

Chances of repairing it: nil. Chances of getting a new one: nil. Chances of getting a second hand one: slim; it's a vulnerable and unwieldy bit of kit which is unlikely to survive long at a car breaker's. Nothing ventured, however, and Jim rang up Braden Motors. We've dealt with them before for both new and second hand Volvo spares and have never been disappointed with their efficient, cheerful and friendly service. This time, their chap (it might have been Terry) said he'd have a look, and when he rang back to say yes, he'd found us a set, I agreed there and then to buy it, and gave him my card details. Then when Jim got back from the shops I asked him how much he'd been quoted. No idea, he said, I didn't ask.

The next day a parcel arrived from far-off Hackney. A big cardboard box which must have been 5' x 2'6 x 8". In it were two long, spindly, oil cooler pipes, lovingly packed, and an invoice for about twenty quid, plus six quid p&p. Absolutely brilliant.

So as it's nice to be able to say good things about a company and its service, I thought I'd write this to say how super Braden Motors are.

Strings attached

Yesterday we arrived uneventfully at Alvecote, and spent a lovely evening chatting with Viv and Simon and a couple of other people, and a total of five dogs, all of whom were very well behaved and lovely (and that from a hard line cat person).

We've been allocated a pontoon in the marina, as part of the boat gathering that's taking place this coming weekend, although hopefully soon after we will be moving down to the dock for Martin to start painting.

As the bank is quite low here, and the fenders fly over it, I've used a rudder string to hold the rudder to one side, safe from banging into the bank if the boat moves. People sometimes wonder why there's a hole in the top of the rudder. This is one answer. It can be used to help lift the rudder if it needs to be reseated while the boat's in the water, though I wouldn't want to have to do that.

You shall have some pie

Because we are in Atherstone, home of Nightingales farm shop, purveyors of the finest pies in the land. But not for much longer it seems, at least not from the current premises. We took a stroll into town this evening and there was a notice in their window saying that they'll be closing the shop in October because of a 52% rent rise. Out furure hopes must now be pinned on farmers' markets.

So, we have made it this far. We tried hard to be good and come by public transport, but dear me, it was hard work. Firstly I had to go into work on the way to (start to) sort out a minor crisis, so so much for the plans to go via Watford Junction. I had to buy new tickets via Euston and hopefully I can reclaim the cost of the unused ones under Southern's 'Rainy Day' guarantee, despite the constant blazing sunshine that has turned my nose quite red. That meant we were late for the one bus from Long Buckby to Braunston. Why, you might ask, did we not get the train to Rugby where we would find buses galore? It's the old skinflint thing again; the Network Card area stretched as far as Long Buckby and no further; go there and you get a third off the fare, go to Rugby and pay full whack for the lot. However, having arrived at Northampton, realised we were going to miss the bus, having phoned two local taxis neither of which was available, I purchased from the guard two singles from long Buckby to Rugby and we continued on to there. Having gained the bus stop outside Rugby station, I was so befuddled by the incomprehensible information therein, that I was obliged to telephone Amy Duck, whom I knew had made the journey last weekend, for advice as to where to catch the bus. She said we should walk up a long hill to the toen centre (well, a parade of shops) and get one from there.

She was right (of course) hurrah! And eventually we were on the right bus. The driver seemed rather a surly chap as he took our fares, but there was a smile and a kind word for all the other passengers, who all knew him by name (Trevor) and regaled him with tales of their day. A local bus for local people, we concluded. It was a pleasant journey though, and we arrived in Braunston at about six - having left home at half past ten. It is indeed true that narrow boating is all about slow travel.

And since then, we have spent two days getting from Braunston to Hawkeabury, and thence tonight to Atherstone. Onwards to Alvecote tomorrow, after a quick review of the shops here.

Another (the first being Mike's brand new iphone being handed in to the police after he dropped it on the towpath there) nice thing happened in Nuneaton today (this is specially for the Wotevers). As we passed some of the many allotments that line the canal here, an old bloke chucked us a bag of potatoes he'd just dug up. Isn't that lovely.

It's been a beautiful evening here and I'm still standing outide writing this at nearly ten pm (BST, unfortunately). I've been sitting listening to the birds - really listening to all their different sounds. It's as exotic to me as the sounds of a tropical jungle, as all you can hear at home are the monster herring gulls. And I've been looking at the trees and hedges; so many shades of green and different varieties of leaf. The flowers are gone from the brambles, and little green blackberries already starting to form.

Off we go again

We are meant to be going back to Braunston today, to take Chertsey to Alvecote, where Martin (Kestrel) is going to do the paintwork. We weren't planning to do the painting until next year but made a snap decision at the weekend after talking to him and looking at the work he'd done on Stanton and Admiral, among others, which we were pretty impressed with. Being a skinflint, I have already purchased out tickets to Long Buckby, going via Watford Junction. Not only is this cheaper, but it cuts out the tube, which is a boon on a hot touristy day.

However.

The best laid plans etc etc. Before we go, I have to sign off some results at work. These were meant to be available on Thursday, but still haven't arrived. Had I but booked tickets via Euston, I could have just nipped out en route and attended to this - now I will have to see if I can change the tickets, but first I would really want to know that the damn things were there for me to sign!

Then, to add to the excitement, we are planning to catch a bus - yes, a bus! - from Long Buckby to Braunston. I have a feeling this may turn out to be a rather fraught day.

On the turn

Many thanks to Alan for sending me some photos of Chertsey in both the Saturday and Sunday parades. (You might have noticed that I have hardly any boaty photos from Braunston this year. This is because I determinedly took my old 35mm SLR camera with the intention of using up my final half dozen rolls of film - in the event I was so busy I only got through one and a half. But all the same, not many digital snaps).

This is us having just come out of the marina under the Ladder bridge on Saturday. This manuoevre was completed perfectly (even if I do say it myself) largely because sheer luck left us in the right position after lots of waiting while boats not involved in the parade were 'bypassed' through the marina. You can see that I'm 'rowing' the tiller. Some people say it works; some say it doesn't. It must depend on the boat because I can say with certainty that it does work, as a way of bringing the front of the boat round at very low revs, with hardly any forward movement. We got round the moored boat on the offside without having to reverse.

This is us attempting to go into the marina on Sunday. This time Chertsey didn't start in the right position and I made a bit of a mess of it, compounded by the fact that the engine then stalled. Nonetheless we rescued the situation by dint of Halfie fetching the long rope from the T-stud and Tony hopping off and pulling the front round, so that by the time Jim had restarted the engine we were round the turn and ready to steer through the marina. What a team!

The Braunston Marathon Challenge

For those who can't quite face the gruelling BCN Marathon Challenge, Braunston this year offered an alternative test of nerve and patience, otherwise known as the 'Parade'.

Prior to last year, all the boats present participated in a single parade, which became known and dearly loved for its chaotic nature. In 2010, when ninety-plus boats attended, a new regime was implemented of twice daily parades, with half the boats taking part in each (although the year's featured boats in the basin can go in all of them if they want). This was felt to have worked exceedingly well, so was reproduced this year.

Thus it was that Chertsey was ready at eleven o'clock, all passengers aboard and engine fired up, ready for the off. Now if I'd had a bit more experience of this I would have known that being tail-enders in our spot by Butchers Bridge, it would take a while before we actually moved off. I wouldn't have reckoned on it being two hours though. So... we finally set off at one. The parade course runs from a given boat's starting point down the canal to Braunston Turn, where we... turn. We then come back up as far as the main Marina entrance where we turn in, turn left and negotiate between the pontoons to emerge at the other end under the ladder bridge back onto the canal, to resume our original position. This route I would guess would normally take ten to fifteen minutes. We were back in our place at twenty to five. Ahem. Most of the hold ups appear to have been caused by boats getting stuck on the bottom, a fate which fortunately did not befall Chertsey. Because the going was so slow, I was able to manouevre quite impressively (certainly better than on the Sunday), and had a wonderfully appreciative audience of (latterly cross-legged) passengers - Bones and two friends, Neil (who has written a great post about it) and Kath from Herbie, Caspar Ghost and his brother Sleepy Hollow (OK, Gary and Kevin) from CWF plus Gary's daughter; Bill and Michelle from Shilling, and Adrian and Linda, now of Warrior. Afterwards we repaired, naturally, to the beer tent where people and conversation ebbed and flowed delightfully until it was time for day visitors to leave for home.

We returned later to the beer tent, but once again the experience was spoiled by what could have been a good band had they not been massively over-amplified. Does anyone really go to Braunston to listen to a band? Surely people would rather talk with the friends they meet only sporadically as boats' paths cross throughout the year. On the Friday night there was a band that wasn't even good, and despite the rain many people preferred to stand outside, in waterproofs and under umbrellas, with their beer getting increasingly watery. Still, if there's one group of people who aren't going to be deterred by a drop of rain...

The weather on Sunday in contrast was scorchingly wonderful. This time we were in the afternoon parade, and I was banking on a lot of people not bothering. I don't know how much numbers were down by, but we certainly accomplished the course a lot faster (within two hours I reckon) and commensurately less gracefully. Thanks are due to Halfie, and Tony (Wotever) who saved the day with a long rope (and me who had the foresight to put it there ready for just such an occurrence) when I managed to stall the engine whilst cocking up the turn into the marina, and to Jim (Chief Engineer) for restarting it both then and when it stalled again as we were coming out. So, less pretty, but we still managed it without major incident. Moveable ballast on Sunday comprised Tony and Patti (who brought wine and chocolates which I hid away for later, mmm, thank you) and Halfie, (who brought beer, which we drank, and very nice it was too). We were also joined on Sunday by No. 1 son, his partner and little Eloise, who seemed to thoroughly enjoy herself. This is of course just the start of my indoctrination of her...

Of course Braunston is also a marathon of non stop partying and on our return from the Sunday parade I wondered over to the marina and ran into Alan and Cath (Sickle and Chalice) and, a lovely surprise, Graham and Jane (Alnwick). We stayed chatting so long that we were given free beer, clutching which we wondered back to Chertsey to chat some more. Then after they left to find some dinner, we got into conversation with Nick Hill, and it was nearly nine when we rushed into the Nelson just in time to order food, Bill and Michelle, whom we were supposed to have been meeting on the way, having very sensibly given up waiting and were already in there.

Why Braunston is better than Glastonbury

Augmented list

1. Sunnier
2. Nicer toilets
3. Cheaper food
4. Quieter (except in the beer tent)
5. Less mud
6. More boats
7. No Beyonce
8. Better campsite
9. Fewer half-witted young people (c. Jim)
10. More boats

Boaters' preoccupations

Browsing and catching up on my favourite blogs this morning, a little phrase leapt out and caught my eye. Who said it isn't important (Adam, if you're reading this please forgive me); I just thought it was the sort of thing that would boggle the mind of any ordinary person, whilst being immediately comprehensible, and indeed a matter of sympathy, for any boat owner, particularly one with a macerator.

This morning, the loo is much more powerful...

Depending on whether we can find our way around a little car problem (cracked auto box fluid pipe) we should be headed for Braunston today, or failing that tomorrow. Therefore you must not expect long posts and certainly no photos until I get back, but keep an eye on the Twitter feed and I'll try not to bore you to death. Look forward to meeting you there!

Paper dashing

Croxley Mill, somewhat earlier than Chertsey's delivery there. One of my favourite photos, reproduced by kind permission of Diamond Geezer.


I have on my desk a photocopy of a faint page from a duplicate book. The original writing has been gone over to make it legible. It says:

(I haven't reduced the photo so if you click on it you can see a bigger version.)

This probably represents Chertsey's last commercial load, and almost the last canal borne coal to Croxley Mill. The traffic, which began in 1824, finally ended just a few days later.

The story, in which Chertsey plays a small part, of the attempts by the Ashby Canal Association to keep the canal open by securing carrying contracts, is told by Gerald Box in Clinging On: The Moira Cut, Coal, and the Last Days of Carrying. (Available from the IWA shop). It's not sparklingly written, as the title might betray - I believe it started life as an MA thesis - but it's fascinating reading for anyone with an interest in the last mini-rennaissance of canal carrying in the late sixties.

This was a time when the big companies had long since given up trying to make canal transport pay (as early as 1949, after the Docks and Inland Waterways Executive - later to become BW - had taken possession of the GU fleet as part of the nationalisation programme, the biggest independent carrying company, and one of the oldest, Fellows, Morton and Clayton, had voluntarily sold out to them). Smaller outfits, with what we would now call leaner operations, such as Blue Line and Willow Wren had entered the fray and taken over a number of boats from the rapidly dispersed BW fleet in the fifties and early sixties, but by the late sixties they too were feeling the pinch, as more and more cargoes were moved onto road transport. Factory arms were being closed and filled in, and canals across the country were being effectively, and often legally, abandoned.

By 1970 Blue Line was just about hanging on - their 'Jam 'ole Run', which ended in November 1970, is generally held to have been the very last regular long distance traffic - but increasingly the few remaining traffics were being carried by the new No. Ones; rather different perhaps from the traditional, proud owner-operaters of earlier years; people, often young people with no canal background who had purchased a boat in one of BW's regular disposals and dreamt of a life working the cut, 'following the trade' to use Tom Foxon's term; picking up loads as and when they could, and hoping to do no more than sustain themselves but to find their reward in the hard but attractive lifestyle of a boatman.

One such young person was Richard Barnett. In 1969 he was a newly qualified accountant, but presumably the prospect of a lifetime spent in some back office did not appeal. So he purchased Chertsey - not direct from BW, as they had disposed of the boat in 1962 or 1963, but from the subsequent owners (and who they were remains a bit of a mystery, these being Chertsey's 'missing years'). Richard Barnett's business partner at this time - unofficially, for reasons that will become apparent - was a student called Richard Pearson. It was in fact the latter Richard, who had barely steered a boat before, who was entrusted with bringing this 23 tons of coal from Gopsall Wharf on the Ashby Canal (on the Leicestershire/Warwickshire border) to John Dickinson's paper mill at Croxley on the Grand Union near Watford. Nick Hill has the steerer down as ? on the loading note; I was able to tell him that it was Richard Pearson having met Richard at Braunston last year, when he told me the story.

The continuation of this contract represented a victory for Nick Hill (he who signed the loading chit nearly forty one years ago and who was helping to fit Chertsey's new gunnels the week before last) and others on behalf of the Ashby Canal Association. Keeping traffic moving on the canal was primarily begun as a means of keeping it open, preventing it from silting up, being choked by weed, and being abandoned, after its upper reaches were closed by mining subsidence. After Willow Wren pulled out, the Ashby Canal Association formed a trading arm and took over the contract with the paper mill itself. It then subcontracted the carrying to anyone who was willing and able to take it on. The story of the chutzpah with which they achieved this, and through it their ultimate aim of keeping the canal open, is worthy of a post in its own right.

A Lidl drop of beer

Since a branch of Lidl opened in Newhaven earlier this year, our lives have been transformed. We are genuinely spending less on food and household shopping, partly because it encourages us to shop around, and partly because sometimes things are very cheap. Good things too, not the second or third class stuff that passes for most supermarkets' economy ranges.

But there are other good things about it too. Firstly, there is not masses of choice. One brand of tinned tomatoes, one brand of beans, one brand of cat food. Take it or leave it. It saves time as well as money, and is strangely liberating. There's no piped music and no pseudo TV and radio stations pumping out adverts. It's light and bright and clean and the staff are efficient, whilst not wasting their energy on pretending to be my friend.

They sell all sorts of mad stuff. Waders, diving suits, sticky backed plastic. Our first ever Lidl purchase was a shower hose costing £2.99 in the branch at Langley Mill. We despaired of getting any hose - and they were costing up to fifteen quid - to last more than a few months before springing a leak. The Lidl one is still going strong three years later.

The last thing that makes Lidl fun - and this must be their secret weapon - is that you never know what's going to be a real bargain from day to day. Prices go up and down from one day to the next. Naturally that keeps you coming through the doors; fortunately we don't live too far away. And today Jim has just been back to stock up on the current beer offer: Shepherd Neame Masterbrew (a very nice bitter) and 'Summer Sizzler', at 99p a bottle. I tried a Summer Sizzler yesterday despite the rather pathetic name and its name belies it, suggesting a light summer beer when it's actually a rather lovely (4%) IPA, so there are now a dozen bottles of it in the beer cupboard.

Movable ballast

My thoughts have been turning to Chertsey's ballast situation. At the moment we're carrying something in the region of three tons of canal water (possibly less as some has slopped out or evaporated over the past year...). This takes up an awful lot of space, being as it is kept in three large tanks sitting in the middle of the hold, necessitating squeezing through an 18" gap to get past them.

So I am thinking of using a combination of steel, under the floors, augmented by smaller drums of water. This will give greater flexibility as they can be moved about depending on circumstances. Also of course there are the freshwater tanks in the back end, which when full add another ton. These can be emptied in emergencies (we started to do so when we were stuck on the northern Shroppie on the way back from Ellesmere Port, but then BW magicked up some water and we were floating again without needing to empty the tanks). There is also the possibility of having a ton or so of coal, although that would of course diminish over the course of the winter...

I have got my movable ballast for Braunston sorted out though. It comprises:
Bill and Michelle (Shilling)
Tony and Patti (WotEver)
Casper Ghost + daughter + brother
Bones + Bones's friend's dad
Adrian and Linda (Warrior purchasers)

Any more and I'll be needing a Boatmaster ticket!

I hope I haven't forgotten anyone. You're all very welcome, and there are two parades, so I'm sure there'll be room for everyone.

Collectibles

Since Easter I've collected a few more townie photos for the album. Pleased with this most recent one - last seen when I was on its home turf. I was also very pleased to have identified it from the first sight of big Northwich stempost and those louvred windows.

It's Tyseley, home of the Mikron Theatre Company, who are currently touring down south, and will be putting on a show at Braunston.

Warrior sails into the sunset

It's been a bittersweet weekend, with a few tears, as we've cleared our goods and chattels from Warrior ready for its new owners. One thing we can't be accused of however, is taking the lightbulbs with us - in fact we are leaving what must be a lifetime's supply of spare bulbs.

As the Moomins were at Bill Fen as well, we decided to take a valedictory trip to the George at Ramsey Forty Foot. This pub has changed hands so many times since we started visiting (and this visitors' book has been lost and found again) but I think last night saw it at its best ever. Friendly service, excellently kept beer and decent food at very reasonable prices. It was empty when we arrived but shortly after we ordered, a family group sat at the next table. There was soemthing so familiar about the man I could see, I thought he must be a boater I'd previously encountered, but I couldn't for the life of me think of where. Then one of his party asked him 'When do you start rehearsals' and I realsied that if he was an actor, I'd most likely seen him on the TV (which I haven't watched for ten years now), and for some reason my first thought was The Bill (perhaps because every actor in Britain has been in it at least once). Over the course of the evening I becam certain this was where he was familiar from, and indeed, when I got home and looked at some pictures, confirmed that he was indeed Tony O'Callaghan, who played Sgt Matthew Boyden. Further research solved the mystery of what he was doing there of all places - he grew up in Ramsey. I think however that David Trimble remains the most important, if perhaps not actually the most famous, person I've encountered in a pub while boating - and I actually spoke to him.

We left around ten and navigated after dusk in brazen contravention of the Middle Level byelaws. Despite a heavy coating of weed, Warrior cut through the water as smoothly and as beautifully (and as fast) as ever. Moominpapa and I both captured the occasion - me on my ancient Canon PowerShot A700, and Moomin on his HTC Desire. His is sharper, but bluer.

Superstition

I'm not a superstitious person. I'll happily walk under a ladder (as long as it's secure and there isn't a precariously balanced tin of paint at the top) but there are a couple of superstitions I'll respect, either because they represent a nice idea or a kernel of good sense, or because of a link with tradition.

I was reminded of this by an interview in the Guardian today with Tea Obreht, the winner of the Orange prize. Among other superstitions that she grew up with in Belgrade, she mentioned one I'd not come across before:

"I learned that if you cross a threshold to go on a journey," she says, "even just to buy flowers down the street, you are not allowed to turn around and cross again until the journey's done – so if you forget your money, you're crap out of luck! You can be like, 'Please give me the money,'" she waves her arms wildly over an invisible threshold, "but my grandmother would physically hold me back."

That appeals to me; the idea that if you start a journey, whether a physical or a more metaphorical one, you should not return until you've completed it.

Other little superstitions I adhere to are that you should never give anyone a purse or wallet as a gift unless it has a token amount of money in it (also mentioned by Obreht), and also regarding gifts that if you give - or are given - a knife or scissors, or anything similar, you should always accept or give a token amount of money in return - things that can cut should not be given as gifts.

One superstition I grew up with, that I never came across anywhere else, is that if you bang your elbow, you should always bang the other one. It took me a while to grow out of that. I suspect it was a ploy on my mother's part to distract us from the pain.

Finally, a boaters' superstition mentioned in Tim Wilkinson's Hold on a Minute. His wife brushes her hair and on pulling the loose hairs out of the brush, goes to throw them in the canal. The young boy from a boating family who's crewing for them is aghast at this, and tells 'missus' that she'll go bald if she does that. As Wilkinson explains, the sense behind this is not to throw anything in the cut that could get caught round someone's blades. Instead, she is told, she should put her hair in the hedge for the birds to take for their nests. Ever since reading that, I've propitiated the fates by never throwing so much as a single hair into the canal, because I like having that link with that advice from the past.

Off to Warrior now, to start to clear our stuff out ready for its wonderful new owners.

Going backwards

Lately I've started - partly of necessity - to enjoy getting some practice at going backwards. Whether it's possible to steer a narrow boat in reverse is a matter of some debate, but what it comes down to is, it depends on the boat. With its big, balanced rudder and superior underwater shape, I would guess that a boat like Chertsey steers as well as any in reverse. Which is to say, of course, not really all that well. To steer at all in reverse is an achievement.

As I say, I've been having some practice lately. Winding round the turn at Braunston is a treat - done it twice now so that bit of the parade holds no fear for me now. And the week after next there'll be a bigger challenge. We couldn't leave Chertsey on the 14 day mooring on the North Oxford any longer, so we've gone up the GU, up one lock, and left it in the pound there. Now, it would be another four locks to the winding hole, IF the winding hole was operational, but it isn't, so come the rally we're going to have to go backwards back down the lock and as far as the marina, and wind there. That'll be exciting.

I have gathered some reversing hints from various people. Obvioulsy (well, fairly obviously) steering in reverse entails moving the tiller in the opposite direction to when going forwards. It can be very disorientating though trying to work out which way this is (for me anyway) so thank to Mike for the simple mnemonic of pointing the angle of the swan's neck in the direction you want the back of the boat to go. Thanks to Andy for two further sage pieces of advice: when reversing, watch the FRONT of the boat, not where you're going (except for occasional glances), and always go back further than you think you need to.

And finally, my own recent observation - don't be afraid to wind the revs up, because the great thing about going backwards, is that you can always stop.

Putting up shelves

One accusation that can't be levelled at Jim is a failure to get around to putting shelves up. No sooner had I said that I thought that a small shelf over the bed would be a nice addition to Chertsey's cabin (and provided him with the measurements) than a suitable piece of wood was found, cut to shape and varnished ready for installation.

Meanwhile I had found a suitable piece of lace and a length of net curtain wire, the primary purpose of which is not to look decorative (although it does) but to stop things falling off. My collection of coronation mugs is additionally Blu-Tacked in place for added security. I couldn't wait to get these out - two from 1937 (including one, the little Edward VIII one, which was owned by my father from that date) which is of course also the year that Chertsey went into service - and one from 1953. They've had to earn their keep as repositories for pencils, toothbrush etc - there's little space for anything purely decorative - but I think the whole corner looks lovely now. I've repositioned the brass rail underneath for hanging neclaces and suchlike on.

In situ

They need to come home again for a good clean (they've been lacquered at some point) but I couldn't resist posting a photo of my new hanging rails. Could have been made to measure! Imagine them all Brassoed and the ancient worn iron links blacked with stove polish. Now, I can no longer get the kettle on top of the Primus on top of the stove (well, not without a bit of a wriggle) but that's a price worth paying.

Please ignore the removable light fitting that I somehow failed to remove - brilliant they are, from B&Q; I've got four of them, they take AA batteries which last a good long while, have 27 LEDs each, and a hook to dangle from and a magnet to attach to the iron frames in the cabin. Best of all they can be moved about, carried in a handbag for use as a torch, and removed entirely for that traditional look in photos. When I remember.

More horsey bits

You will recall the I got my chimney chain (in Ely) from an old piece of decorative horse harness kit, plus of course various horse brasses. Well, today we were mooching about in Lewes and my eye fell upon these items, which I am hoping might serve as a hanging rail or two over the cabin stove. They're gorgeous and obviously old (from the wear on the links); brass wrapped around (presumably) wrought iron. I'm not quite sure what part of the harness they constitute, but they are stamped 'patent', 'solid brass', 'double cased' and 'No. 4'. I just hope they'll fit somehow into the space between the ticket drawer and the table cupboard.

Talking of which, just browsing in the Aladdin's cave that is Lidl, I came across rolls of sticky backed plastic, so I have purchesed two rolls in a red gingham pattern to give that authentic fifties look to the shelves inside.

Woodwork latest

I did that last quick update when I went into work on Friday evening; with five minutes to spare before rushing off to a class, it was somehow easier to write like a breathless four year old. (The inspiration was in fact Sebastian's first composition, which I can recall verbatim to this day: 'Today we went to Beachy Head and I saw a dead badger and I enjoyed myself except for the dead badger').

Now back at home and the woodwork nearly complete, so I will now try to do it justice. The planks in the foreground of the photo in the last post are Chertsey's. The narrower ones each became two sections of gunnel, and the wider ones were destined to become a front cant, and the wider gunnel sections towards the front of the boat. The gunnel pieces were sawn to shape and finished, then clamped in place so that the bolt holes could be marked. These were then drilled and recessed - a slight communications slip up here, as there were initially three options - to leave the bolt heads proud; to recess them and cover with oak plugs, which would add a lot to the cost, or to recess them more shallowly and fill with epoxy resin. I'd initially intended to go for option one, with option two as second choice; by the time the recesses were drilled, I was committed to option three. However, it will probably be for the best from a practical point of view; I am just not so sure how it will look.

Once each section of oak was cut and drilled, we painted its underside and ends with bitumen. Then Jim spread a layer of bitumen mastic on the gunnel iron, and over the top of that, laid a strip of impermeable membrane. This is to provide a barrier between the oak, which will leach tannic acid, and the steel. The bolt holes were then punched through this, and the gunnel fixed in place with stainless steel bolts (and nuts and washers) - a total of 134 for the gunnels alone. At the front, where the gunnel rises and widens, the rise is achieved through laying shaped pieces under the main gunnel, which is cut and shaped from wider planks. These are yet to go on.

However, the handrails are all now in place, and the back end beam has finally - after a lot of struggling - assumed the curve of the cabin top. The front cants too are in place - one of the old ones was in perfect condition and has been reused - the only alteration has been to round off the end so that a rope is less likely to catch on it. This one is made of some sort of hard wood - probably mahogany - and we think is a replacement fitted in Richard Barnett's time. The other one, which was oak and quite rotten, was probably considerably older. A new one was cut to match and a new triangular piece for the middle to complete the shape. These were all bolted on into a bed of mastic, and the T-stud replaced. The deck beam is fundamentally sound and the damage around the bolt holes is going to be repaired.

My visit to the sawmill

Today we went to a sawmill and I saw a big machine cut up trees into planks all on its own, only there was a man with a computer telling it what to do and we got the wood for Chertsey's gunnels and cants and on the way back we saw a great big hare and it was awesome.

With apologies to Sebastian, aged three and a half.

Northwich test :-)

Having shamefully abandoned them for months (many, many months) I lent my labours once again to CCNA yesterday and took Tarporley out for a trip. I was particularly interested to see whether it steered as heavily as I remembered. In fact, it didn't. This may be because I've got tougher; it may be because they've straightened the rudder out (have they?); but most likely because I insisted on using the new long tiller bar which, since they had the swans neck straightened (not completely, obviously, just enough), clears the cabin top with ease. It does not however so easily clear the bums of more generously proportioned steerers, hence its under-use. I also admired the new fridge, gasped at the new toilet, and bemoaned the fact that they'd got a new kettle and not given me the old one. Then I went to polish the brass trim on the ornamental water can and made a disastrous discovery - there was NO BRASSO. The shame of it.

We were taking a hen party to Little Venice and then back to Camden where we dropped them off in the lock (no, not literally). I steered all the way back, and it did seem a lot easier - no doubt largely because I've had a lot more practice in the intervening months. Following Mike on Prince Regent I got round Cumberland Turn with no problem, and didn't bang or scrape anything all day.

When we got back to Kings Place, I made the rather gruesome discovery that the shiny new toilet was blocked. I reported it to the skipper of the day (thankfully not me), who recorded it in the log book for the next day's skipper, who is by default, Toilet Officer (I was on the Toilet Subcommittee, but don't recall making any meaningful contribution). Later that evening he rang me to say that this is what comes of taking 'parties like that'. What, I said, women? Apparently, yes. Clearly my Toilet Talk requires refinement.

All a board (groan)

Chertsey's new deck board is finished! Well, all bar the priming, rubbing and painting. A super job; thanks Jim. Unlike the old one, this one has a hardwood strip along the bottom, and it is finished with an angle to it, to take account of the fact that in position, the deck board tilts forwards. Unfortunately, we couldn't remember exactly how much - not that we'd actually measured the angle anyway. This is also taken account of in the cutting of the slots for the side pieces - which Blossom tells me are the bits rightly referred to as cratch boards, which I like.

Jim has also completed the new false cratch, but my photo of it has come out so dreadfully that I can't show it to you. The false cratch is the A-shaped frame which is linked to the deck board by the cratch boards. The whole assembly is then the cratch.

But where does the word come from? In horse boating days, the cratch was where the horse's fodder was kept. I've seen it suggested that 'cratch' is a corruption of the French 'creche', meaning crib or manger (originally of course, like its French counterpart, a place for putting hay etc. rather than a baby). Sounds plausible, except why would a French word have been used when there was a perfectly good English one? Maybe the word was already established as the name for part of a boat in France before somehow being transferred to English. On the Harland and Wolff drawing I've got, it's shown as 'crutch'; this I suspect is the draughtsman taking an unfamiliar word and hearing or reading it as a more familiar one. Lots of things on the drawings have different labels from what they were called by boatmen.

Chertsey's deck board is 22" from top to bottom; originally they were specified as 27", but (George on Sandbach tells me) lower ones were introduced for boats working on the northwestern waterways because of the lower bridges. It's interesting that Chertsey's deck board (and false cratch) are stamped with its GU fleet number, 130, if as this suggests they're not the original ones. I wonder if they might date from as late as BW days, as they kept the same fleet numbers. I know it's been well looked after but reckon it's unlikely to be 75 years old! Ultimately though, I really have no idea.

I've gone for keeping the lower profile - it will be helpful of course having that extra bit of clearance, but my main reason is that I just prefer the look of it; to me the big boats look better proportioned like that.

Another one tempted over to the dark side

An eloquent account, here, of the fatally corrupting influence of dabbling in old boats.

It might seem like a harmless day out, sunshine, beer, morris dancers, and ooh, a lovely backdrop of old boats. That's how we lure you in. Once you've taken that first whiff of old engine; that glimpse of fore end, before you know it the heady atmosphere has got you and you'll never be the same.

But like some other addictions, as long as you can fund it, you can continue to live a relatively normal life. Sometimes you can even put on clean clothes and go to work, and for brief periods string together semi-coherent sentences that aren't about original GU vs. north-western deckboards, hot rivetting or sources of canvas fire hose. For a while, anyway.

More wood

Sadly, the deckboard (which I think may be original or nearly so; it certainly has Chertsey's GU fleet number stamped on it), as well as being somewhat battered around the edges, also proves to have at least one rotten plank. The fact that it has survived this long is probably due to its having been stored off the boat in a shed for a few decades. Rather than keep using it until it falls apart completely, I've decided to have a new one made - and Jim has volunteered to make it!

So we brought it home (again, along with the false cratch) on Sunday and this morning measured it up in order to get the wood to make a new one. These things are never simple are they. It's built from planks of tongue and groove, about seven inches wide, and 7/8" thick. The width doesn't really matter, as the planks are sliced off top and bottom as it it; more, narrower ones will probably look better. But the thickness is a bit of a problem; modern standard thicknesses seem to be either too thin (20mm) or too thick (38mm). These thicknesses, as I have enjoyed learning (not today; I did already know) are not the actual thickness of the wood you buy, oh no; they are the nominal thickness of what it was before it was planed. A bit like Whitworth bolts, I suppose. So the 20mm is something less that 3/4" and the 38mm is about an inch or a little bit more. The overall thickness of the deckboard is actually formed of three pieces of wood, so using the thinner T&G but the thicker wood for the framing, overall it should come out about right.

We went to Wenban Smith in Lewes for the wood, and not only was the service excellent - very helpful and friendly - the wood is very good quality as well.
The new one won't feature the hole carefully drilled out for, presumably, the headlight.

Woodentop

We had a short but very productive weekend in Braunston. I chronicled every stage in photographs - and then left the camera on the boat. So instead we have a grand total of the three photos which I took with my phone.

We are in Braunston to get some woodwork done. Gunnels, handrails, front cants, and back end beam, I think the total will be. We arrived on Friday and set about removing the old wood from the foredeck - there were already cants in place, plus the breast piece that had bees nesting in it, and handrails which were so rotten the rain was running through them; the back end beam we removed last year as it was totally rotten, and the gunnels have always been conspicuous by their absence. Naturally we (especially Jim; que sera sera being my middle name, ha) were concerned as to what lacework, rust etc we might find beneath - the answer was none; all the steel was very sound. Hurrah!

Jim had come armed to lever ('horse' in his terminology) off the wood but with the exception of the breastpiece even that proved too sound and I was afraid of damaging the steel if we were too violent. So we got the ladder and lowered it through the foredeck hatch, and Jim lowered himself down it. I wish I had that photo. He set about the nuts holding the wood on without much hope, but found them to have been greased on installation forty-odd years ago, and with the exception of one, whose bolt was turning in a rotten bit of wood, they all undid. Better still, one of the cants is made of some sort of hardwood that was still in excellent condition, and with a little reshaping, will be reused.

On Saturday morning we set about swapping places with Betelgeuse, and I did a lovely bit of winding round the turn, which no one saw, and then cocked up getting onto the mooring, which everyone saw. Thenceforth the weekend was one of quiet industry in which thinbgs happened without you actually seeing anything move. By lunchtime on Sunday, when rain stopped play, the new block for the deck lid hinges was not only made but in place; the back end beam was made and temporarily bolted down to try to get it into the habit of bending before being taken off again for a bit of a helping hand;

the handrails, complete with a drip at last over the starboard engine room doors, were made, and on Jims part, all the old wood was removed and the steel beneath cleaned and painted.

Today the oak for the gunnels is being ordered; the handrails might have been fitted in our absence if the rain eased off, and a nice piece being selected for the new cant. We return a week on Thursday to continue the job. Very very impressed so far.

Oiling up

Here we are topping up the diesel from Liam in Middlewich. We'd passed him that morning, but hadn't had enough cash on us, so he said he'd catch us up in Middlewich. He arrived about an hour after us - having left an hour after us, served three customers and made a detour along the way. When he arrived, I was washing my hair, again - last time Ariel passed when I was doing that at Kings Bromley, Liam videoing the whole thing. It's nice now knowing a few fuel boats and buying from them - a couple of bags of coal from Alton at the Port too. I used to be too shy to ask and too nervous to seek them out, but now I actually know the people it's great. So far Chertsey has had diesel from Towcester, and Turners at Wheaton Aston as well as from Ariel. We've not got a properly calibrated dipstick (and didn't think to make one when we were starting from an empty tank, d'oh) but Jim has calculated usage at between one and one and a quarter litres an hour. We've never filled the tanks right up and I don't think are ever likely to! I've forgotten what the capacity is, but 'massive' just about covers it.

This was one of those posts which I started without having any idea what I was goinmg to say - does it show?

Tomorrow we are driving up to Braunston where hopefully work will soon commence on the gunnels, fore end cants and other bits of woodwork, so there will be some restoration blog stuff to read again soon!

Chain reaction

An extravaganza of chimney chains and chimneys for your delectation.

Food

The dedicated blogger never fails to photograph a meal if there's the slightest chance it might be of interest. Here is the Indian takeaway we had from the Goa restaurant in Ellesmere Port, when we were entertaining John-from-our-mooring. It was very nice, and not at all expensive.

Des Res

I remember the first time I went into a preserved cottage, at a mining museum in Wales - also the first time I saw a rag rug - and I've loved them ever since. I never go to the Ellesmere Port museum without spending some time in the 'Porters Row' cottages, and over the Easter weekend it was lovely to be able to wander in and out at times when there weren't too many other people around. What is it with me, that I really, really, want to move in?

A weight off my mind

Along with Chertsey, I acquired two gauging weights. One is from the Grand Junction Canal, a catroon weight shape with a ring in the top, and I fully intend to hang onto it. The other was from the Leeds and Liverpool Canal, and I wondered whether the L&L society might like it back. So ages ago, I emailed Mike Clarke of that organisation, and he said yes please, it would be good to put it on Kennet. How could we arrange to transfer it... He mentioned that he would be at Ellesmere Port and I guess I thought that he was thinking of transferring it to a motor vehicle. However, when we tracked him down, he had other ideas. If we could get it out of the hold, he suggested, perhaps we could put it on one of the narrowboats that was planning to make the Mersey crossing to the Liverpool Waterfront Festival, and they could pick it up from there.

I knew though that Severn, another Leeds and Liverpool short boat was also going to Liverpool, and it seemed much more appropriate for the weight to travel that way. Furthermore, I knew that Severn was possessed of a young, robust and sufficiently mad crew to undertake the project of transferring the weight - which we took a wild guess at being about 2 cwt - from the 4'8" depths of Chertsey's hold, down to the lower basin, and on to Severn. So I sought out Rick, Barny et al, and threw down the challenge, which they immediately picked up and leapt into action.
Barny and Sam got it out of the hold; another chap whose name I never got found a rather unothodox way of lowering it down the slope, and when we left, it was sitting on the bank next to Severn.

Now you didn't leave it behind, did you boys?

Now in pictures

Some choice cuts from the Port, from April 22nd.

Meanwhile, we have arrived home and Jim is emitting the traditional cries of anguish as he goes through his 700 emails and sees what he's missed on Freecycle - this time, a wringer, just like he promised me for my birthday!

Lumpy bottom

Monday, Fazeley Junction to Hawkesbury Junction (10 1/2 hours)
Tuesday, Hawkesbury Junction to Braunston

Not much to say about this epic day really, we just got down and got on with it. Nothing terrible happened but we got stuck on the bottom -or, more accurately, on lumps of stuff on the bottom - a few times. This was the worst I've known for actually feeling the lumps beneath the boat and hearing the shopping trolleys, bikes etc. dinging and scraping along underneath. Along one stretch a couple of boys with a home made grappling hook had hauled out loads of bikes and stuff. Good entertainment for them and certainly better than sitting in front of the computer, but no doubt it will be someone else's entertainment to throw it all back in again before long. This is one of the few stretched we have previously done in Chertsey, and I'm sure it's worse than last year even though there seems to be more water. I really begin to understand the expression 'the bottom's too near the top' - the top after all is the same all along the pound; it's the bottom that varies. Anyway, we made it to the Greyhound and hopefully tonight should see us in Braunston.

First love

Saturday: Stone to Rugeley
Sunday: Rugeley to Fazeley

Once again I was too busy enjoying myself, and then (not entirely unconnected) too tired to post yesterday. We thought Stone to Rugeley would be a fairly easy day's boating, so we didn't leave until late, first strolling around the town, checking out the charity shops, and breakfasting on Staffordshire oatcakes with bacon (and bacon and cheese for Jim) from the market, which was a nice treat. The oatcake itself, with all respect to a local delicacy, is not a lot to write home about, being rather like eating hot wet cardboard, but when wrapped around a bit of decent bacon does make an excellent breakfast. I forgot to mention too that we had some very nice chips from the shop in Stone on Friday night too - and I say that as someone who's very fussy about chips. They were fresh and not at all greasy or soggy. I also bought a fridge thermometer to test the various milk storage options, and I am very happy to report that the sidebed is the perfect temperature for storing beer and will henceforth be known as the cellar. Still working on the milk, but at least the important things are right.

The easy run turned out to be a bit of an effort in the end as we were constantly batttling the wind (likewise today) which does make it all rather harder work, but we did eventually make it to Rugeley as planned to meet up with Blossom and Dawn at the Ash Tree - never been there before but having been to the Boat (?) at Braunston was immediately familiar with the concept - a Marstons family eatery, and not at all bad for all that. I had three pints of Pedigree (and you wonder why I wasn't blogging at midnight) and salmon hollandaise, but best was my starter of goats cheese and black pudding which I would definitely have again.

What made the day though happened as I was walking down towards Haywood Lock. Suddenly I stopped and did a double take: Pendorric. (Search the Warrior blog if you don't know the story...) I thought I should explain the fact that I was standing there with my mouth hanging open, so I told the owners 'this was the first boat I ever fell in love with'... and he replied, 'Have you got the Warrior blog?' (Not as spooky as it seemed at first, as he'd found it when Googling for information about Pendorric.). They were lovely people, who'd bought the boat only a week ago and brought it back from the Ashby where it spent the last six years to their mooring at Armitage, and they insisted on me coming inside and having a look. It was as beautiful as ever and in much better shape than when we looked at it at Whilton in 2005 or 2006.

And so on to today - again, we didn't exactly get off to an early start, and, again, the wind didn't make things easy for us, but we coped; we must be getting a lot better at this boatting lark. Nothing really exciting happened today, except the Nicholsons Book 3 blew into the Coventry Canal, so we are now on a Mystery Tour. It was zipped in a plastic folder, so might actually survive its immersion and drift up on some foreign shore... I wonder if someone will find it and read that it is inscribed 'Chertsey 2010' and it will find its way back to us... Stranger things have happened (v.s.). In the meantime we are going by memory. The ziplock folders by the way are jolly good for putting your Nicholsons in; not only do they keep the rain and the smuts off, but they keep it flat and stop the pages blowing about, and it takes a really strong gust to blow the whole thing away! It is possible too to turn the pages without taking it out.

Tonight we are not oing to the pub and tomorrow we really will have an early start. Hoping to be in Braunston by Wednesday at the latest as I need to be at work on Thursday. All good things must come to an end I guess.

Lockwheeling from Wheelock and avoiding a royal wedding

Two days' posts crammed into one as I couldn't keep my eyes open last night. First, the summary that I've forgotten so far:
Tuesday - Ellesmere Port to somewhere in the middle of nowhere.
Wednesday - SITMON to Middlewich, about ten hours.
Thursday - Middlewich to Kidsgrove, about ten hours, and definitely thirty one locks.
Friday - Kidsgrove to Stone, only about eight hours and twelve-ish locks.

So, Thursday was a good day for getting the bike out, and some lucky person (who actually happened not to be me!) got to cycle six miles and fit in twenty six locks along the way. We were aiming for the Blue Bell, but because we desperately needed to eat, settled for the Red Bull, which we were tied up opposite. The food was fine, the beer was too cold, and there was super music from a regular last Thursday night of the month bluegrass outfit with a great many members who played very casually in the corner. I was falling asleep as I sat there but it was very pleasant.

This morning began with a shower at Kidsgrove - and very good it was too, not to say overdue, and then it was off, with perfect timing, to spend the exact period of the royal wedding ceremony safely hidden in the Harecastle Tunnel. It may not be much of a boast, being as it's very straight, but I was very pleased with myself for getting through without so much as touching the sides, no, not even once. The weekends taking Tarporley back and forth through the Islington Tunnel have clearly stood me in good stead. A gentle run today has brought us to Stone, where we have tied up opposite the Star, where we spent a very pleasant evening in 2006 with a couple called Tony and Sheila, but which appears to have attracted a younger clientele since then. So once again taking the advice of beer guru Mike, we repaired to the Swan, and enjoyed a very nice pint of Church End Bad Rabbit and some pork scratchings (not the best I've ever had) in an absolutely packed pub. Once again quite tired (I've done my washing too, more of that anon) and mindful of my blogging duties, we tore ourselves away. Aiming for Rugeley tomorrow.

Branching out to Middlewich

Yesterday it has to be said was not a good one. Frayed tempers and lowered pounds and a cold wind did not add up to happy cruising. It looked as if today was going to start where yesterday left off, but then, lo, the sun came out and all was cheerfulness again. We'd set off at seven (and put in ten hours before stopping in time for tea), negotiated a few more big locks and Bunbury (where no one got confused this time and we two boats going up executed rather a nice shuffle with one coming down), and buy the time I was making sandwiches for an early lunch, having made tea and porridge on the move, hard captain that I am, we were turning onto the Middlewich Branch.

We've not been here before, and it was lovely - so glad we didn't change our minds about coming this way. The fields full of dandelions that we saw on the way down are now fields of perfect dandelion puffs, the air thick with a snow of their seeds. We passed beautiful bluebell woods, a haze of blue. The view through the trees over the fields and flashes was breathtaking. I don't understand Cheshire; the more you descend, the wider the vistas and the bigger the views.

We tied up on the towpath just short of bridge 29 (or possibly 30). All along here there are (small, floppy) signs saying the towpath is closed for improvement works, and I wasn't sure whether we were meant to moor there, but the signs weren't very big or insistent, and there isn't anywhere else as there is alot of improvement going on. I chap on a little roller or something similar came rolling along and I thought he was going to tell us to bugger off, but he just wanted to ask about the boat. The towpath along here is lovely, covered in wild flowers and with lots of moorings with picnic tables and barbecue stands, thanks to the Shropshire Union Canal Society, who seem to be really active and to do good stuff. They also managed to keep sending us their rathr lush newsletter for years after we stopped sending them a membership subscription.

Jim used our newly acquired First Mate guide to go and find the shops and most importantly a cashpoint while I waited for Liam on Ariel to catch up and sell us some diesel, and sought expert advice on the pubs of Middlewich. So many, and yet not a mention in the Good Beer Guide. Well, apparently there's a reason for that, so we stayed on the boat (well, the towpath) and enjoyed the lentils I started cooking at lunchtime. Here is a brief recipe interlude: Impromptu Lentil Curry. Take half a small pack of lentils. Add two tins of tomatoes and chop them up. Add a good dollop of HP sauce that you found in the back of the table cupboard and a sprinkling of black pepper. Cook slowly on the stove top for an afternoon, then go to Tescos and buy some curry powder. Add two teaspoons of this and serve with naan bread. It was jolly good and some much needed healthiness. Now all I need is some fruit.