Droitwich is SO bracing!

Day 4 - Stourport-on-Severn to Droitwich

Having had a great evening in the splendid Hollybush, we were up bright and early to set off onto the river. The weather was freezing, blowing a gale, with sleet and the occasional flurry of snow for good measure. So we all got soaked and frozen in the course of the journey, but nothing actually went wrong. The river was well behaved and scenically rather dull, but then we only saw a small stretch of it. The Droitwich Barge Canal is of course a miracle of restoration and one mustn't be churlish, but I really do wish they hadn't seen fit to surface the towpath with coarse, sharp grit, that gets walked all over the boat and worst of all gets into the ropes making them horrible to handle.

First impressions of Droitwich... Well it probably isn't fair, but here goes anyway. We are currently on the (gritty) towpath outside the basin, four feet out from the bank, awaiting Harbourmasterly organisation. The town centre is theoretically not far away, but it looks it. It is, on first viewing, all a bit bleak. The weather is not going to help as it is forecast to be dull, windy and bloody cold up to and through the weekend. The rain might stop though, so maybe that will feel better.

We do actually have quite a busy programme of events to amuse us, once the weekend starts, and access to the Working Men's Club which is standing in for a beer tent (just as well as it might be a bit warmer). On Friday we have a talk about the restoration of the Droitwich canals, with two different guided walks on Saturday (neither of which I have signed up for); film shows, 'tat' auction, quiz, and an organ recital at a local church. I shall probably go to all of them except the walk.

Right now though, I think I had better clean up some grit.

A good pub at last

Day 3 - Kinver to Stourport-on-Severn

The last couple of nights have seen us find a couple of disappointing pubs, but we have hit the jackpot tonight - the Hollybush in Stourport. Only just in the Good Beer Guide, but one of those places you can tell is right as soon as you walk in the door. As that is where I am sitting now, this will be brief, as I need to get back to my beer - very local, from Bromsgrove.

Disaster level reduced

Day 2 - Wightwick to Kinver

I think we're doing quite well. Both the number and severity of disasters seems (touch wood) to be decreasing, whilst our ability to cope with them grows. Famous last words of course.

Yesterday started with us getting very slightly stuck on the bottom shortly after leaving Wightwick - by the first lock I think. Jim got off to try and push from the bank with the long shaft, but just him getting off the back of the boat was enough to enable me to reverse off and the shaft wasn't needed. Which was a shame in a way, because in the excitement, we managed to leave the shaft on the bank after going through the lock. It was only later in the afternoon, when we got properly stuck, by bridge 36 and on the outside of two moored boats on the offside, that we realised. Later at Stewponey we met the BW mpan who had picked it up. He now reaslised it was ours but at the time he had, for some reason I wasn't quite able to follow, decided to give it to a group of hire boaters who were following behind us. So, if you are a Morris dancer travelling in a group of three Black Prince boats, I would really like to hear from you. Or indeed if you're not, but think you may have Chertsey's shaft (it's 14' long, made of ash, and has 'Chertsey' written on it in marker pen).

Willow is so far behaving very well. He complains very loudly at being shut in while we travel but I think it would be far too stressful than if he weren't. I tell him it's no worse than being in a cattery. When we stop and let him out, he sniffs the air, strolls up and down, catches a mouse... and, so far, comes back to the boat. This morning he has been out since quarter past six and hasn't strayed far - perhaps because he hasn't had breakfast yet!

Iain and Clair on Plover are being very kind and helpful to us, last night starting to move boats to organise us a mooring space before we arrived at Kinver. I am coming to agree with Jim that Chertsey is a slow boat, notwithstanding the skill or otherwise of the crew. There are times now when I can tell wesimply can't go any faster because of the depth of the water, whilst other deep drafted boats race ahead, and I wonder whether reducing or moving the ballast might be the next thing to try.

Better have breakfast now, got the brass to do and the anchor to fix before we set off today.

Travels with my cat

Day 1: Stretton to Wightwick




So far, so good. Left Stretton with Plover at lunchtime and put in a short afternoon to arrive in Wightwick at about quarter to six. Willow was shut up safely in the cat containment facility he wasn't distressed or worried, but he made his feelings plain. When we stopped, we let him out and he wandered about, hissing at dogs and ingratiating himself with people, but on the whole behaved very well. Buckden came along in the opposite direction, en route to Ellesmere Port and tied up with us, and after eating (our dinner included the baked potato that wasn't quite done at lunchtime, plus some splendid purple sprouting broccoli from Iain and Clair's garden) we popped Willow back in the back cabin and went off to the Mermaid (a pub very much in the same vein as the Swan and Bottle at Uxbridge and numerous others, with matching olde beams and chamingly mismatched furniture, but there was nothing wrong with the Harviestoun Bitter and Twisted and we had a nice evening. I am now writing this on the table flap whilst Willow, having finished his supper, sits on his special cushion and has a wash, but I shan't be able to post it until I can open the hatches in the morning and get a signal.

An ill wind

Today was the final day of getting ready to go to Droitwich, so we thought we would wind Chertsey so as to be all set for the morning. We untied, and with Jim steering and me waiting on the bank, Chertsey whizzed backwards the few yards past the winding hole, winded, and started to reverse back alongside Bakewell. Not a chance. I should have known, really. The reason Bakewell isn't tight into the bank at the back is because Chertsey, on the outside, won't go any nearer. There is just enough depth for the back of a motor boat at the end of the mooring near the winding hole, but nothing like enough a boat length further along. It's only silt, and one of these days we might get around to shifting it, albeit temporarily, but things work fine as they are, if only we would remember. So I made a cup of tea while Jim took Chertsey back (forwards) to the winding hole and spun round again. We still needed to get Chertsey's back end nearer the end of the hosepipe to replenish one of the fresh water tanks and thereby correct a rather pronounced list that had developed, so this involved mooring on the outside of two other boats where it was deep enough, and then reversing back to where we started. Job done though. Everything, hopefully, loaded. Water, coal, potatoes, cat food...

We met another blogger today as Captain Ahab and Belle passed on, en route to the Llangollen. As they hovered alongside Chertsey whilst we had a chat, Willow showed his mettle as a boat cat by hopping onto the roof of Wand'ring Bark. Andy had to reverse back so that I could grab him. Let's hope he takes to travelling as well as he has taken to static boat life. I have made him a collection of collars - a circle of 10mm elastic with the boat name and my phone number written on in marker pen, and we have even bought him a harness in case he fancies coming into town with us. He's not bothered by the collar but seemed rather cowed by the harness. This is going to be interesting.

Primed and ready to go

If you had been passing Stretton today you might have wondered what all the shouting and swearing and weeping and wailing was about... Nothing to worry about, ladies and gents, just me doing some painting - an activity I find uncommonly stressful. Having found some rather good black paint - Blackfriars C90, for metal and wood, heat resistant to 150 degrees C, and nice and shiny - I decided to smarten up the area around the stove. This had been painted in matt heatproof paint, but that was two years ago now and since then we've added some more fireboard, which was rather unsuccessfully painted cream (you can see it in the photo at the top of yesterday's post). Above that were Chertsey's plaques, but I have decided on a new position for them. All of it was very discoloured, mostly from soot from the Beatrice stove last year, and I decided that a coat of nice shiny black on the whole lot would look smarter, and provide a good background for any bits of brass that end up there. Well, it's nice enough paint to work with, and covers well, but what an awkward area to work in, especially with that edge to keep neat. And then a few hours later, just as it was nice and sticky, I went and leant the cuff of my cardigan against the edge, leaving a patch all rough and fluffy (although Jim successfully got the black mark out of the woolie, so not quite all was lost. Golly, I did shout though). All in all, although not perfect, it has probably been worth the agony. I think it does look better already.

The other thing I have used that paint for is to smarten up one of the tins that I bought from CanalWorld's David Schweizer for putting a Primus stove in. The Primus (pressurised vaporised paraffin) has many advantages over the Beatrice (paraffin via a big wick) - it is far more economical, more efficient and a lot less messy in terms of producing soot. On the downside, however, there is an arcane ritual to be performed to light it, and the slightest draught spoils the magic and leaves me (once again) swearing, sobbing and dying for a cup of tea. The tin, which is made from a bulk Peak Freans biscuit tin (they'd have been scooped out and sold by the pound in the shop) should overcome this by shielding the pre-heating meths flame from draughts. I've put a wooden base in the tin to raise the pot stand level with the top of the tin, so that the kettle can sit safely on it, whilst the lid can still fit on to keep it clean and tidy when not in use - and it fits neatly into a perfect storage spot too.


Oh yes, we're leaving for Droitwich on Sunday.

Step inside

Here is the finished step, and a nice tidy cabin.
Going to mess it up with a bit of painting now.

Washday

Today we hung the washing out for the first time this year! I've been doing most of my stuff, with the exception of big heavy things like jeans, every week and hanging it in the bathroom to drip over the bath for a day, before transferring it to dry by the Squirrel - there is a hook in the ceiling for the multiple-peg-thing (aka the knickerhanger), and a coat hook behind the stove to hang things on hangers, or they can be draped over the hot water pipes. But today we had a proper line outdoors, because at last it is spring, and all my stuff was dry in time for Jim to wash some of his bits too, rather than taking them to the laundry in Shifnal (I don't care greatly for the laundry; they have to be told not to put fabric softener in with the towels, and it comes back smelling of Someone Else's washing powder, which I find disconcerting. There is a coin-op launderette near Dawn's hair salon in Cannock, which I might give a try when it comes to doing my jeans. But I've plenty of pairs to go yet.

I set out today to see if I could get some shorts, and was quite successful - one pair of Calvin Klein denim ones in Age UK, unbelievably, size 8 (they must be very generous), and some in Asda, boys age 11-12. Kids must be getting fatter. So that should ensure a cold snap for Easter.

Step up

When I got Chertsey, the footboard - the step that you stand on to steer - was made of a big piece of ash, which continued across to form a shelf next to the stove. Only at the time, there wasn't a stove. When the Epping was fitted, a slice of the shelf had to be cut away. The step was also cut back, although this turned out not to have been so necessary, especially once the brackets supporting the step, which would have fouled the oven door, were replaced by a piece of steel welded in place. The loss of three or four inches off the front of the footboard is noticeable; if I want to stand inside the hatches and use the long tiller bar that like, my toes dangle over the edge, which is tiring after a while. For a long time, I was on the lookout for a new step - a nice big chunky piece of oak or ash or elm which might even give an inch or so of extra height. But nothing of the sort materialised, so I turned my thoughts to a plan B. It was thinking about putting vinyl on the step that presented a possible solution - if any join was going to be covered up, we could let a new piece of wood into the missing bit of step (you can see the shape of it in the 'Check' post), and, as luck would have it, if we were to cut off the shelf part (which I wanted to remove anyway, and eventually replace with a steel shelf next to the stove), this would just fit the gap. Now obviously it was necessary to find a strong enough way of joining these two pieces, so that it would be able to take the strain of someone standing on the edge as they got in and out of the boat. Jim reckoned that five deeply countersunk six inck coach bolts, along with glue, and possibly a plate underneath, would do the trick. As it was Sunday by the time we got round to doing this, we went to B&Q for the bolts. Big mistake. For a start, they only had five inch ones, so the sinking holes had to be drilled deeper. Then despite Jim having drilled proper pilot holes, every bolt either bent or broke - one broke in two places. They were worse than useless, and caused a whole day to be wasted. Yesterday we did what we should have done in the first place, went to Kelsalls and got some six inch Timberdrive bolts. These cost about £14 for 25; the B&Q ones were £6.85 for ten - so cheaper as well as infinitely better.

The footboard yesterday afternoon - spot the join

Once the piece was let in, Jim filled the holes and also used filler to smooth the join, before sanding it all down. Now in fact the join barely shows, so we were having second thoughts about putting the vinyl on it after all. The current view though is that we will, as the join will probably show once it gets dirty, and the vinyl will be non slip and waterproof, as well as looking a bit like that old photo! The edge and underside of the footboard will be painted with red oxide, as I have done with the lower step (I don't have a proper traditional coal box step on Chertsey) and I have liberated a piece of old brass step edging from one of Bakewell's side hatches where it isn't really needed as it is no longer used as the main entrance to the boat. This will keep the front of the vinyl from being caught and should look nice as well as marking a tactile edge to the step.

As you can see, the step is not completely square; the slightly sloping side was the best way of making the most of the available wood.

Chequered past

I probably shouldn't be reproducing this photo, but it is for educational purposes... It's from Michael E. Ware's Narrow Boats at Work (Moorland Publishing Co., 1980) and is no. 105 of over 200 wonderful photos. The book is of course long out of print, but copies seem to be available very cheaply - get your hands on one now!


Anyway, in response mainly to Amy's comment on my check vinyl, here is the photo, from the early 1940s, that inspired it - not so much my choice of check, but its extensive use! Obviously in the photo it would have been lino rather than vinyl, but it's true to the spirit of it.

I'm not sure I could cope with all those photos and plates though, although I do seem to be moving towards a more traditional style of back cabin decor.

Beer blogging

Thanks to an article in yesterday's Guardian, I was directed to Pete Brown's Beer Blog, and via that to the wonderful world of beer blogging. After a long evening's tireless research, I reckon Pete's is probably the best of the bunch (he is a proper journalist, after all; I had even heard of his books). It was very instructive though, especially to the levels of beer snobbery (and worse still, inverted beer snobbery) that exist out there. I'm adding Pete to Ye* Blogroll to remind me to read him regularly, and I hope you'll enjoy it too - lots and lots of links to follow up as well.

*Pronounced 'the' as I'm sure you know, 'Y' being the nearest a modern keyboard can get to the old English letter thorn which was pronounced th as in the, and not, um, as in thorn.

Check!

I decided that a piece of vinyl would be just the thing to make the sidebed look clean and tidy. (It's got tatty old graining, which i don't want to look at because it's tatty, grubby and dingy, but I don't want to paint over because it's old). Then I thought, a bit would be nice on the step too. And if the join could be covered up with vinyl, we could let a piece into the footboard, so my toes wouldn't be hanging over the edge. If there was any spare, it could go on the floor where Willow's food and litter tray will be when we're on the move (of which more anon). And another bit on the dark floow would brighten things up a bit. Any really spare bits could go in the bottom of the cupboards.

Now, of course the holy grail of back cabin lino is one with a small, diagonal black and white check. No chance. Everything is at least 6" squares, sometimes eight, and always on the straight. I did once get three small (about 5' x 3') pieces with a six inch diagonal check, albeit slightly marbled, at Barnsley market. I rolled them up, tied them with some scarves, and bought them home on the train. Two of them went into Warrior's back cabin, and the third is at the house. I toyed with going back to get it for about a second, but it wouldn't have been worth it.

We shopped around, all the big chains; no small squares, and up to ten days to have it delivered to the shop. Then I said, let's just try that little place in Penkridge - it's called Penkridge Flooring and is (the young man told me) an offshoot of Stafford Carpets. And lo, there was a nice black and white 4" check, and what's more, they could get in in the next day, so I went mad and ordered a 2 x 2 metre piece. Of which I have probably used just over half, so far, and am ready for a very surreal game of chess. But it really does look much brighter and by covering all the little cracks will make it easier to keep clean, and will keep dust and splashes out of the side bed too. It is - very unobtrusively - slit in places to allow it to be rolled back for access to vital bits, or removed in sections.

The rather extreme version of the modesty flap will be explained later.

Fender fitting

Now we're finally getting on with all those little jobs we said we'd do before going boating this spring. One of them was finding a better way of fitting the front fender than trying to attach it to the T-stud, from where it was always slewing to one side or the other. It needs to be positioned so that it can be lifted easily too, and flipped up onto the fore end. So, we have used two of the cast brass screw-in eyes that we bought from Malcolm Braine at the Ellesmere Port boat jumble many years ago, screwed into the oak cants. There are now just two of these left, which I think will go on Chertsey's back doors. The others are on Warrior, holding up the washing line in the engine room, and holding the lovely French stove in position.

Interior decor

The other day I finally got round to putting the rest of my beer mat collection on display in the back cabin. OK, it's not much of a display as only I shall see it, but it brightens the place up (solid oak can be a bit coffin-like), and almost every one has a memory of a place or an occasion attached to it. Copper Dragon - from when we stopped at their (then) new pub in Slaithewaite, nearly six years ago now, and having left the bottom paddles open as instructed, came out to find the pound empty. Enville Ales - not sure where I got the mat, but it reminds me of 2010's Black Country gathering; Enville Ales in the beer tent, but when that got too noisy, it was off to Ma Pardoe's. Harveys and Dark Star to remind me of Sussex; Titanic from the Albert Hotel in Huddersfield, a gorgeous pub when I was there, all marble and mahogany. And Hale's Ales - bought back by my sister from Seattle.

I have two new ones to add - Bath Ales, from my trip to Oxford; an enjoyable day if not the most productive one. I saw the pub, The Grapes, at lunchtime, but thought it wisest not to go in before my interview (perhaps I should have done), but headed straight for it afterwards, for a couple of expensive (but nice) pints of Golden Hare and a disappointing sandwich (putting a slice of apple in a cheese and pickle sandwich and charging £4.50 for it does not make it a 'ploughmans'. Not even a ploughman's sandwich), and made the acquaintance of three rather amusing property developers from Ohio on a kind of grand tour.

New phone trauma

I don't really like change, not unless it's a change I've chosen to make (like moving onto a boat, something like that) at any rate. Well, who does. New versions of familiar software, changes to Blogger, just makes me want to run away and hide.

Way back in 2007, I had to buy a new phone. I was persuaded to try a Nokia N95 8gb. Oh, how I loved it. So square, so black, so heavy. Such a lovely solid clunk when I slid out the keyboard. In no time I was texting away with one thumb, loving the T9 set up, easily changing words when necessary. Lovely display, 5mp camera, great video, slide the screen the other way and it had separate controls for the MP3 player. I am yet to be convinced that a better phone has ever been made.

But it's in its fifth year now, and starting to slow down. It keeps switching itself off. For some time, I have been coming to terms with the fact that I am going to have to replace it before it gives up the ghost altogether. I wandered round phone shops, picking up the merchandise, but nothing came near. Either it didn't have a numeric keypad, or not a good enough camera; or not enough memory. I didn't want much - just a texting machine with a few extras really - but it had to feel right.

Then No. 2 Son said that No. 1 Son had a new phone he thought I would like. I looked at it and I did like it. It didn't have everything I wanted - in particular, no numeric keypad, just a touchscreen one or a little slide out querty keyboard. But it had a good camera, and while the integral memory was tiny, it could take a micro SD card. Most of all though (shallowness alert!) it was shiny and black and heavy and it went clunk. It was a Sony Ericsson Xperia Pro Mini.

I rang up Vodafone, who have been badgering me to 'upgrade' since my beloved N95 was six months old, and gave them the glad tidings that at last I had found a phone I was reluctantly prepared to switch to. First they said they didn't have one, then that they did. Eagerly I awaited at the Post Office the next day to collect it, but when I opened the box, it was the wrong phone. There were bits of Xperia Pro Mini in the box, namely the backs, but they didn't fit the X10 in the box. I sent it back, having first had the obligatory argument with the call centre.

In the end, I have had to switch to Orange to get the phone I wanted, and that was only through Carphone Warehouse. Don't ask me how these things work; I'm not a young person. There is an upside to this, then, in that Orange seems to have much the best signal here. Fortunately they didn't seem to associate me with the person of the same name who had a big row with them about a dongle a few weeks ago. (Somehow I ended up being sent a bill for £1 as a result of that, complete with return envelope. Rather than argue about it again, I just sent them a cheque for £1). I could have bought one outright and carried on with my Vodafone contract, but it worked out a fair bit cheaper this way.

So, I am currently running two phones, as I try to get used to the Experia. It looks and feels lovely, but for a start, I don't like the jolly speech bubbly way it displays texts. I don't like the way it turns my (or others', I suppose, if there's anyone left still innocently using them; I was shocked to realise that that's probably how mine have been looking to others for ages) sweet little punctuation mark smileys into vulgar brightly coloured cartoon characters. I quite like the way the T9 works, but haven't yet worked out how to go back and change a word post hoc, and I definitely do not like the way it is very easy to accidentally send something before you've finished polishing it.

And now this is bothering me. My Vodafone contract requires a months notice. I'd be happy to give them a month's notice prior to stopping using the phone, so I rang them up and they said that they could do anything on the phone but that; I would have to put it in writing. I could do this in an email but would have to give them all my security details, or it wouldn't work, and the email form is only 900 characters long anyway. But they gave me the PAC code and said that I could transfer the number to the new phone and the service would (fairly obviously) be terminated immediately. But I would then end up paying for a month's service that I couldn't use, and even if it's only a tenner, that annoys me. If it happens to everyone, that's a lot of tenners they're getting to not pay tax on. Any ideas, anyone?

I just wish I didn't have to do this at all, but my N95 is too precious to use until it falls apart or stops working entirely.

Oxonian interlude

Well, I don't know yet whether my trip to Oxford has borne fruit in terms of remunerative employment, but I had a lovely walk down the canal, and round the shops, and made the acquaintance of three charming American tourists in The Grapes, formerly a Greene King pub but as of very recently run by Bath Ales, where I had two very nice pints of Golden Hare and a disappointing ploughman's sandwich. I also acquired two more beer mats for my display, of which more later.

Here are some of the old boats in retirement as houseboats (I looked at their licences) right in the heart of Oxford.



Kilsby



And Ben (if I've got them the right way round)



The notorious new pontoon



And the remains of Castle Mill boatyard, behind Sextans.

I wonder if anyone ever uses the visitor moorings right at the end of the arm. It certainly didn't look like it.

Have you noticed...

That although you've probably bookmarked or clicked a link to 'www.chertsey130.blogspot.com', you are now in fact reading 'www.chertsey130.blogspot.co.uk'. Unless you are in the States of course, in which case you still get the .com version. Or in any other country, where you will have got the relevant nationally-specific suffix. And if you use Blogger, the same thing will have happened to your blog. A different (though the same) version for every country in the world.

I must admit I hadn't noticed, until Diamond Geezer pointed it out. He explains why they've done it here. (And how to get round it if you need to)

It probably won't make any practical difference to any of us boaty bloggers, although it seems it will clog up search engines other than Google, who own Blogger of course.

It does get you thinking about the unsettling aspects of the web, and of depending on Google for so much, but there's no point complaining or wringing our hands about it. You can have your own domain under your own control if you're prepared to pay for it, but if not - as one of dg's commenters puts it - you just have to remember that if you're not paying for the product, then you are the product.

The power of a big brand

I did think of calling this post 'the obligatory opinion on the CRT elections', but what sort of press officer would I be if I couldn't think of a snappier come-on than that?

The dust is settling around the elections now, and opinions are being voiced all over the place. I just want to focus here on a few points which I think are in danger of being overlooked elsewhere.

Clearly, the result was not to the liking of many bloggers and CanalWorld contributors - understandably. We had our own favoured candidates - in many cases bloggers and CWF members were candidates. Levels of support for them seemed high. But in the end, the results were dominated by IWA candidates, just as many had feared.

In a system which is in no way party based, any distinction between 'independents' and other candidates is going to be, to some degree at least, artificial; even spurious, and this distinction has done much, I think, to engender a very confrontational attitude. I - with all my political experience and the cynicism borne of it - was amazed by the extent to which some people emphasised this false dichotomy, saying that they would not vote for a candidate who had been endorsed by an organisation (even one other than the IWA), even though they would have put exactly the same candidate at the top of their list otherwise. When standing costs nothing, and campaigning on the internet next to nothing (so they would not be beholden to the organisation), I do not see what difference they think such an endorsement could make to the candidate's ability to carry out their representative role.

You can't blame the IWA. You might think that they should not have made so brazen an attempt to dominate the proceedings, but wouldn't it have been even worse if they had done it covertly, by supporting nominally independent candidates? I don't think you can blame the IWA, either for wanting the maximum possible representation, or for taking the opportunity to get it. Like the result or not (and the elected Council Members are not bad people, and will probably not be bad representatives for boaters) those candidates were elected fair and square.

You can't blame the system. 'Some 'independent' candidates got very close to winning positions in this STV election, and may, with lessons learnt this time, win seats next time. Under First Past the Post (the system used for Parliamentary elections) none of them would have come close, and nor would they stand a chance in the future against a well managed concerted campaign. And - if these positions prove to have any clout - make no mistake, next time the campaigns will be bigger, more concerted, better managed. It is in the nature of elective democracies that parties will form, simply because they provide such an advantage to candidates in elections. No democracy anywhere has yet found a way of overcoming this - using STV is the closest we can get to weakening the grip of parties on the political process.

You can't blame the losing candidates. Many of them staged excellent campaigns, and many of them were very worthy of a seat on the CRT Council. It wasn't their fault that they weren't successful.

So who is to blame? In any democratic process that is fairly conducted, as I have no doubt, despite a few minor glitches, this one was, there is only one place to lay the blame for the outcome: on the voters. The one major, blindingly obvious, point which is being largely overlooked or ignored is this: the result reflects the choices of the majority of voters. Around 7,000 people voted. Most of them have never read a blog or heard of CanalWorld. The IWA, on the other hand, has 17,500 members.*

You can call the voters misguided, you can even say they were duped, but I think you would, largely, be wrong to do so. What they are, in common with most people, is risk averse. Most people would sooner go to Halfords or Kwik Fit than an independent back street garage; to Wetherspoons rather than an unknown street corner boozer; to Pizza Express rather than a steamy-windowed family restaurant. Not all of us, but most people. That's why chain pubs, chain restaurants, chain garages are so successful, despite everyone knowing that the quality is merely good at best, and comes at a price. It is good enough, and it is a safe, predictable choice. That is the power of the big brand over the unknown, maverick, but sometimes vastly superior independent player. The independent might be brilliant, but they might be dreadful. Your brakes might fail, you might get food poisoning, the beer might be off. If you wouldn't take the risk in your choice of garage, pub or restaurant, why would you in your choice of candidate?

Those of us who supported Alan, Sue, Andy et al, did so because we knew them; they were already familiar to us. But we cyber-savvies were only a small proportion of the electorate. The vast majority went for the big, safe brand name - and the biggest brand by a mile in this market is the IWA. And that is why they did well. Not because they cheated; not because there was anything wrong with the system; not because the other candidates failed, but because they were the choice of the majority of voters. And that's what democracy is all about, isn't it?


*at least it does according to Wikipedia. I find it a bit hard to believe myself - one for every two boats on the system?

Walton en route

Yesterday afternoon we heard a boat coming in the distance, like you do... it's a josher... seems to be towing something... hang on, isn't that Martin off Kestrel (he who painted Chertsey)... Indeed it is... and Kestrel is towing... Walton, which we saw launched the other week (and got some rather good photos even if I say so myself, published in both Canal Boat and Waterways World).


They are off to Alvecote, where Walton is to have its engine (a Seffle) fitted, and to be painted in Mersey, Weaver colours.

I'm starting to go native by the way. I was chatting to one of the towpath hippies this morning, and as we went our separate ways, he said 'ta-ra', and without thinking, I said 'ta-ra' back.

Ta-ra-a-bit.

Low level

No, not the reservoirs (this time) although I do feel for all those people trapped on the Fens by the de facto closure of the Northampton Arm (but look on the bright side, you won't have to do the Nene this year, and you can go and visit Cambridge before the Cam Commissioners put their prices up...). As for anyone who was hoping to visit the Middle Level... it'll wait, I promise you.


Anyway, my low level refers to Chertsey's cloths, now rearranged sans deckboard, initially because of a low bridge en route to Droitwich (but now we have finally looked at the map we have worked out that we won't be going that way), but also hopefully to offer less for the wind to get hold of. I kind of like to see a Big Woolwich or a Royalty clothed up like this anyway; it has a certain something about it. There is still nearly 6' headroom underneath, in the middle. Also, illogically, it feels much easier walking along the top planks - illogical because they're only about a foot lower at the back (and less than two feet at the front), and, without the uprights, the planks are more bouncy.

Lots of people when clothing up like this fold the topcloths in half. That won't work for Chertsey though; firstly we have a little more height than the milk crate minimum, and second, the side cloths are relatively short (I can't remember how or why I decided on that now), so half a topcloth won't cover the gap, while a whole one is too big. So we have had to tuck one edge under (or both, until I thought of doing just one), and have put a pleat, which you can just see, in the middle of the shaped front one..

The Paloma lives!

Here's a bit of good news. We were resigned to going and buying a Morco on Friday to replace the leaky Paloma, which would have been a Bad Thing for at least three reasons- it would cost nigh on two hundred quid, all the fittings would be in the wrong place, and on my past experience, Morcos just aren't as good as the no-longer-available Paloma.

But someone else here has had a similar problem, and it was mended by Paul on Prince, so I dropped him a text and asked whether he thought it was worth taking a look - and low and behold, he fixed it! It wasn't the heat exchanger this time (as it had been on Andante); that might have been too much to overcome, but an inlet pipe at the top. So, we have a fully working Paloma, which with the summer coming is a luxury beyond measure and a real bonus.

Tickety-boo

I am going to have a nice day out in Oxford on Monday. We have driven into Oxford once, and we couldn't escape, so I decided to go by train. Apparently since I was last in the jobs market, universities have stopped paying interview expenses, so I was on the lookout for the cheapest possible deal. If it meant a few extra hours to wander around the city of dreaming spires, so much the better.

Nothing is cheap in the world of rail travel though. The cheapest advance fare I could find from Penkridge to Oxford, via Birmingham New Street, was £47 - £23.50 each way. So I bit the bullet and went onto the Cross Country website to buy the tickets. I was offered the option of collecting them from a machine at the station, for free, or having them posted, for six pounds. Naturally I wanted to collect them at the station. But woe! Penkridge station does not sport a suitable machine, so that was a non-starter.

Then I thought, it's not much to get from Penkridge to Birmingham - I checked and it was £8.60 Anytime return - perhaps I should just book the advance tickets from Birmingham. So I went back and found the same trains - £15 each way. Result! Total cost £38.60 as opposed to £47.

But that's not the best bit. Travelling from Birmingham, I could get my tickets by post, £6, or to collect them from a machine would cost me a pound this time! There was a free option - an e-ticket, which is emailed and printed off. But how bizarre that this is available where it's not really needed, because there's a machine at the station, but not where it is needed, because there isn't.

(I expect there's a boring and sensible reason like London Midland (the Pengridge-Birmingham leg) can't deal with e-tickets or something). Still, I've paid a bit less and probably even made it cheaper than driving now, so I'm pleased. And I am looking forward to my day out, even if it isn't at someone else's expense.

Vale, Valerie

This morning as I made my way to the village I noticed Valerie tied up on the towpath. I'd sort of registered that Les and Jaq were in the general vicinity and would have loved a chat, but the curtains were all drawn so I passed on by. On the way back, I thought, especially after a very long queue at the post office, they are bound to be about. But no, it seems I caught them on a bad day, because all was still. I would have left a note, but I didn't have a pen. Or any paper. So I did the next best thing and rushed back to leave a comment on their blog. I was pretty confident they'd be passing us anyway, given that that was the direction in which they were facing, and sure enough, only an hour or so later they did.

I waved frantically and we said a quick hello, and they were gone. But a few hours later there they were on the towpath, having picked up the message and walked back from Wheaton Aston to visit. More cups of tea and interesting conversation followed, and we have met yet more new boating friends. What I forgot to mention was that Valerie is my mother's name, and my middle name.

Feels like spring

There have been green shoots poking up out of the ground for a little while now; delicate blossom on the blackthorn for a week or so, and tthe buds on the weeping willow just behind the boats have burst into leaf.

But today was the first day when it has really felt like spring. Warm and dry enough to be outside all day, doing jobs, casually chatting, sharing cups of tea, in a way that just doesn't happen when you're tucked away inside away from the weather. All the good things about boating, in short.


And at last it feels as if we are getting ready to go boating; preparing for our trip to Droitwich for Easter. Ian and Clair on Plover are going too, and have been here getting Plover shipshape. Jim (in his shorts for the first time in 2012!) was painting and rearranging Chertsey's top planks. For the Droitwich trip, because of a low bridge and to minimise the effect of wind, we are taking down the deckboard (and the cratch if we had one), the mast and stands, and clothing the boat up with the top planks low down. It's still necessary to give them a bit of height so that rainwater can drain off easily. Milk crates have been found to be just about the right height for this, but not being able to lay our hands on four of those, Jim has made some wooden boxes which will sit on the cross planks and support the top planks so that we will still be able to walk on them. I had to go round to the towpath to see from a distance whether they were all level and straight. One more box remains to be made, to go at the back end.


Meanwhile, I spring cleaned Chertsey's cabin, and brought all the brasses out for a clean.

Here we go a-jumbling

It's been a long time since we went to a jumble sale. Down south, they've practically stopped having them. It's a downward spiral - less good stuff and more rubbish is collected, because people car boot or ebay their good stuff; so fewer people go, less money is raised, until it's just not worth it. Plus since the advent of landfill tax it now costs money to get rid of what's left over, and for the reasons above, more and more is left over.

So it was interesting to see that there are still lots of jumble sales being advertised in the Express and Star. Most of them are in totally unfamiliar places, where we wouldn't know where to park or be able to find the hall, and we haven't been all that adventurous yet. But today there was one in Penkridge, which we know our way around reasonably well (as long as it's near the bun shop, anyway), and what's more, was in aid of the Lichfield and Hatherton Canals Trust, which made it feel kind of familiar and friendly.

In the glory days I would come back from jumbles absolutely laden with stuff, clothes, soft furnishings, furniture, bric-a-brac... The front room floor would disappear under a sea of fabric, maybe twenty per cent of which was destined to be used or worn with any regularity, and Jim and I would compare our purchases (he never bought as much as me), and then I would hit the washing machine for a few hours.

Now, of course, that simply will not do. We no longer have a massive outbuilding to fill up with stuff that might come in handy one day (well, ok, there's Chertsey, but... no). So I had to try and be selective. In particular, I resisted some rather nice plates. Between us, in ascending order of usefulness, we came away with:
A Marks and Spencer blouse (too big)
An 'intelligent plug' which is meant to switch off things that are on standby unless the computer's switched on (didn't work with the laptop)
A box of wooden puzzles for amusing Sebastian (age 22) when he visits
A purple velvet 'chav top' (you know the sort of thing, like a hoodie without the hood. But hey! It's purple! And it's velvet!
An Indian print wraparound skirt with elephants on.
Five books.
A nice chunky little handmade mug for keeping things tidy in the bathroom.
And - the piece de resistance that made the whole trip worthwhile - an air bed! A double, old fashioned rubberised one, no leaks and not a trace of Wergie, which is exactly what Jim needed to replace the one that Willow has obviously put a claw through whilst secreting mice under the bed.

Tonight we are off to the nearby village of Bishops Wood to see (and hear) folk legends Ashley Hutchings and Ken Nicol. This is a rather odd, low key affair, sponsored by a very active local arts organisation, for which tickets had to be ordered by phone and collected from the house of the chair of the Village Hall Committee. Tickets cost £12.50, or £8 without the ploughman's supper. I am rather looking forward to it.

Tapestry

When Alan and Cath visited the other week, Cath noticed that I had a bit of a soft spot for Hornsea pottery.


Spotting my one jar in the 'Tapestry' design, which I was using at the time to hold utensils, she asked whether I would like another couple of pieces to match it. I was delighted to say yes as this is currently my favourite design (although I love the very dated seventies brown and orange ones too).


At the HNBOC AGM last Saturday she handed me a box of pots, but it wasn't until I got home and unwrapped them that I realised that there were two mugs as well as a jam pot with its original spoon. I hadn't even know they'd made mugs, and these are now my favourite ones to use every day. My big jar is now used for holding teabags, and the jam pot has become my sugar bowl, whilst my Bronte design tea, coffee and sugar jars now hold different varieties of herbal teabag.


Thank you Cath and Alan!

Towpath toddle

Eloise, who visited on Monday/Tuesday, with her mum, dad (No. 1 Son) and uncle (No. 2 Son), enjoys a toddle down the towpath.

On the whole their mass visit went very well, and a good time was had by all. How do you fit five adults, one of whom is allergic to cats, a toddler and a cat, into a pair of narrow boats?

Well, Jim took the opportunity to test out his travelling accomodation with a new tent in Chertsey's hold, whilst I stopped in Chertsey's back cabin and No. 2 Son had Bakewell's back cabin, leaving the family of three to squeeze into Jim's four foot bed - Eloise did have a travelling cot, but no way was she going to settle on her own, plus there was the difficulty of isolating her from the cat. Apart from both Jim's and Sebastian's air beds going flat, this worked fairly well. I will post another time about the clever carpentry that separated cat from bed.

We had buns from Jaspers on their arrival, of course, and then went to the Bridge for dinner, followed by the regular Monday night quiz. TThis was a very well run affair and most enjoyable, although our team (the Bakewell Tarts, natch) did not trouble the winners' podium. Then on Tuesday morning we took breakfast at the Truckers Rest transport cafe on the A5 near Cannock (thanks to Paul for the recommendation) - absolutely excellent and set us all up for the day.

Finished at last!

Not quite in time for him to take it away with him, but today I finally completed the Aran jumper that I've been knitting for No. 2 Son over the past year and a half.
By the time the boys visited on Monday, the front, back and both sleeves were complete, and I quickly tacked together a shoulder so we could just check it was still going to fit. It wasn't until after they left yesterday though that I was able to knit the neckband (last night) and sew it all together, which I did today, along with the fiddly but vital task of sewing in all the loose ends. The finished item weighs over three and a quarter pounds - and tomorrow I shall put it in the post to him.

I bought the wool from Edge Fold Wools and Yarns. The one I chose was a natural undyed Aran. When I ran out Elaine went to a lot of trouble to find me a few more balls, and I would heartily recommend her for friendly service as well as super wool. I think it will be a while before I tackle anything this big again though - sometimes my arms and wrists really ached after a knitting session!

Starcross'd

Meeting people in real life is hard. I've often thought that it's easier - well, certainly more acceptable - to attempt to strike up a romantic relationship with a stranger (by 'asking them out') than to begin a friendship, at least since the days at infant school when it was OK to go up to someone and say 'will you be my friend?'

But canal cyberspace, whether in the form of forum of blogs, acts as a great big dating agency for all sorts of friendships/mateships/acquaintances.. A cahnce to suss out people's likes and dislikes and attitudes and form an opinion of whether you would like them if you met them - because despite the warnings we issue our kids, and the few high profile exceptions, my experience is that most people's online persona gives a pretty good idea of what they're like.

And if you're fellow bloggers or forumites with a defining shared interest, what could be more natural than dropping by in passing, helping one another out, having a drink. I've met so many friends that way - if I mention just a few I'm bound to leave some out, but they include Alan and Cath Fincher (Sickle and Chalice), Amy and James (Lucky Duck), Bones, Hairy Neil, Neil and Kath (Herbie)... and now Jim of Starcross.

Jim was someone I'd wanted to catch up with for a long time, purely on the basis of his blog, so we were delighted when he dropped in on Sunday, first for a cup of tea on Bakewell, and then later (after the Archers), for a few pints in the Swan. We had a lovely evening in great company and are really looking forward to catching up again some time.

Whilst on the subject, I've become rather tickled by the idea of staging a Black Country Romeo and Juliet. Just the balcony scene, really.

Rowmeo! Rowmeo! Wheer am yow Rowmeo!!

Oh yes, and reading about Jaq on nb Valerie's experience of being an American in the Midlands, I did wonder what our visiting transatlantic friends make of the delicacy on offer at the Bridge and other local eateries - Black Country Faggots... mmmm... (though I had some in the Bridge last night and they weren't that great, not a patch on the ones at the Nelson in Braunston the year before last).

Why I need my Magimix

So that I can turn this...

...into breakfast

Drowning in birdsong

Three times now, on a certain part of the towpath on my way back from the village, I have heard a woodpecker. As I have never seen one, every time I stop, and try to locate where the intermittent sound is coming from - so far without any success, inasmuch as I have still not seen a woodpecker. But when I stopped today, and was looking and listening, I realised just how much birdsong was going on that I simply hadn't noticed. Not just the crows and the pigeons, that could be heard above the throng; not just the songs and chirpings of myriad birds I can't identify, but a veritable wall of sound; a sea of thousands of tiny tweets in which I was completely submerged. And a phrase from James's Boring Things blog post of yesterday came back to me - 'the transformative power of attention' - which to me means the way in which we can change our world just by noticing things.

I never did see the woodpecker though.

Knitting, not nothing

Round about November 2010, I offered to knit No. 2 son an Aran jumper. I started, made a bit of a mess of it, decided it was probably going to be too small, got discouraged and put it to one side. As it was meant to be finished in time for his birthday the next February, this was not a good outcome.

Some time later in 2011 I got it out again, measured it, measured him, looked again at the messy bit, and made the radical decision to unravel it all and start again. After that there was (well, nearly) no stopping me. It was definitely going to be ready for his birthday this year. And then I ran out of wool. I'd ordered what I thought I needed from a wonderful woman in Derbyshire who spins it from her own rare breed sheep (sickeningly trendy I know, but it's lovely wool). So when I needed to make a bigger jumper than I'd initially bargained for, I couldn't just go down the nearest shop with a dye lot number.

Instead I emailed Elaine, and sent her a little sample of what I had left, and there followed a nerveracking week waiting to discover whether she could find any. And, hooray, she did; just about enough, that someone else had put aside and not bought. What a relief! So now I am frantically trying to finish this massive and heavy jumper before both sons visit next week.

Which is why I haven't got time to blog.

Should look nice on the mantelpiece

Yes, the answer was that all those boats have been recipients of the Hemelryk Award, presented each year by HNBOC to the 'most improved' iron or steel narrowboat - in practice, the best restoration. The reason I can reel off all the previous winners is because the trophy is currently sitting on Bakewell's sideboard. Not that Chertsey has won it, you understand - it wasn't even nominated (sob) - albeit largely because I didn't nominate it. No, we are merely looking after it temporarily while it is in transit between last year's winner, Swan, who handed it over at the Walton launch on Saturday, and this year's... You didn't think I was going to give it away did you? No, you'll have to come along to the AGM on March 3rd to find that out.

To be honest, this is rather nicer than the Keay award, which is a rather battered rosebowl which has seen better days, but then wooden boat restorers are so unworldly they probably don't notice.

Quiz time

What links these boats?

Seaford, Apple, Antlia, Venice, Clypeus, Bellatrix, Jubilee, Leo, Ditton, Banstead, Dragon, Dover, Buckden, FMC 138, Dove, Sickle, Whitby and Swan?

Answer later.

Nice notice

After the launch of Walton we repaired to the Commercial Hotel, Wheelock, where this notice could be seen in both ladies' and gents' toilets.

I wonder whether a polite and positive request like this gets a better response than the peremptory orders and threats we are more used to seeing.

Someone replace the blogroll

I've just had a bit of an overhaul here on the blog. The biggest difference is that I've added a blogroll of the blogs I like to read, so that I can see when they've updated (RSS? Nah.) I held off doing this before for the most venal of reasons - I didn't want to encourage you to click on someone else's blog and push it up the charts past Chertsey. But of course I'm not that petty...

Most of them are boat blogs, with a few additions, some of which were previously on the links list. Diamond Geezer will stay sitting on the bottom I fear, as he doesn't have the right sort of feed to show when it's been updated, but he posts every morning and you should read him. I have also added James Ward's 'I like boring things' because there is something wonderful about finding interest in apparently mundane things like modular buildings.

The old boat blog list remains the same, and the non-blog links. Meanwhile, Zulu Warrior will now slip down the charts as I will no longer be checking its extensive blogroll each day...

Slip sliding

Or rather, side slipping...

Today was my first proper assignment in my new guise as HNBOC Press Officer and, by default, official photographer. The event was the launch of Walton - a wooden boat built in 1939 at FMC's Uxbridge yard, and subsequently purchased by the Mersey, Weaver and Ship Canal Carrying Company. Walton is now owned by Ade, who has been working on its restoration for many years. The latest, just completed phase, has been the replacement of the fore end bottoms.

The launch was to be by the traditional side slipping method, whereby the boat is released to slide down greased timber runners (what is their proper name?), er, sideways. This morning I was suddenly struck by the responsibility I'd taken on - supposing my photos of this seldom seen and dramatic event weren't any good? I ferretted out the instruction book for my new camera and checked up on shooting fast sequences of photos - up to 3.4 per second. Once sure I could remember how to set that up, we set off for Malkins bank, somewhere I'd never been before.

A warm, muddy welcome awaited us, and we were offered soup while a small band played. A small crowd of children got very muddy, whilst nearly every boat restorer you've ever heard of joined the throng. I was given privileged access to the far bank of the dock - which wasn't very wide - and found myself what I hoped was a suitable position. At one o'clock on the dock, Walton was released, and I reckon my camera earned its keep pretty well:







Well, I have picked the best one (wonder if you'll agree which that is), cropped it a bit and sent it off with a press release to the canal mags, and also to the gentleman from the Stoke Sentinel who was there with his lovely lady assistant trying to get various boat people to pose in increasingly foolish ways on Walton - so look out for that on Monday if you're in the Stoke area; and if you're not, hopefully there should be something in Canal Boat and/or Waterways World next month.

Back in the old country

I been down that London. And thence further south still to check whether Newhaven is still there. It is, although Jim, though grateful for the Argus I brought back, says it's nothing like as good as the Express and Star.

My two day break started with lunch and a pint (Titanic Anchor) with a former colleague at the Bree Louise. If you are venturing into London from the Midlands, this is an excellent place to start. It's a couple of minutes walk from Euston, and has a really outstanding selection of real ales. You can also get a (admittedly average) pie and rather good chips (or mash if you prefer) from £6, and there's a discount on beer and pie if you show a CAMRA membership card. According to Mike, who accompanied me there once, it also has the most appalling gents he has ever visited in a British pub. But I will have to take his word for that, and suspect he may have caught them on a bad night.

Then after a trawl of Waterstones it was time to go and meet up with some more friends from Birkbeck for a drink (London Pride), and then, most excitingly, to go on with one of them to the highlight of the evening, dinner at the legendary Gay Hussar. Founded over fifty years ago, this Hungarian restaurant is famous as the haunt of politicians, cartoonists, and the staff of Private Eye. We didn't see anyone famous last night, but evidence of their presence was all over the walls in the form of cartoons and photographs. The food was enjoyable, and my smoked sausage starter was excellent, and very similar to the ones sold by Porters in Newark. We selected from a special offer limited menu which meant getting 50% off - three courses each, a half bottle of wine and two coffees for £48, including service - not to be sneezed at in a canalside pub, let alone in Soho. The portions were not too big, and my goulash (well, what else could have on my first visit) was very good too.

After a wonderful evening I got the train back to Newhaven to spend the night on Sebastian's sofa. No. 2 son proved a great host, and I had a pleasant morning chatting to family and neighbours before it was time to set out again on the long (but cheap! And comfortable) London Midland journey back home to the boats.

No sooner said...

than done!
There's something not quite right though....

New image...

As you will know if you've read Alan's blog, or his thread on CanalWorld, we spent the weekend entertaining Alan and Cath Fincher. Indeed, I was so exhausted by all the fun we had, that I haven't posted for three days.

I wasn't sure whether taking Alan away from the internet for a whole weekend would help or hinder his election campaign, though I must say he certainly listened to us! As we chugged up the Shroppie Jim did his best impression of an election day tannoy car (he's had lots of experience) going 'Vote Alan Fincher' to no one on particular.

And David Mack of Fulbourne produced this wonderful illustration on CWF. I love it, because of course wholeheartedly support Alan, but I did feel I should point out that the other side, of course, says

Vote Sue Cawson!!!!

Cabbage colours

Some day I will get around to writing an erudite piece about the vital difference between delegates and representatives in the context of the C&RT elections, but tonight I've been sidetracked again by... ooh, look at the pretty colours...

Tonight I steamed some red cabbage, like you do, and was amazed when I came to do the washing up. The steamer in which the cabbage had been sitting was a glorious deep violet, while the water below had turned bright cyan blue.

A good brew in Brewood

Last night we ventured out to the Civic Society again, where the speaker this time was from the Bournville Village Trust, and told a slightly smaller audience about the history and values of this still extant housing association, founded by the Cadbury family in 1900 - not just for their workers, contrary to popular belief (and unlike Saltaire and Port Sunlight) but to provide pleasant, healthy housing to a wide variety of people and give them the opportunity to get out of Birmingham's slums. Bournville - and a couple of newer satellite developments - are still run on the same principles today. What I thought was great was that although no members of the Cadbury family have been involved in Cadbury's chocolate business (now owned by Kraft of course) for years, nine out of the twelve Bournville Village trustees have family connections.

Decent, sustainable housing and the lessons it has offered over the years is surely a far greater legacy than the ever shrinking Creme Egg.

Afterwards we repaired to the Swan for a pint of Directors and a packet of pork scratchings. As usual it was very busy, and we sat at a table with a couple of blokes and got talking to them, and one of them, it transpired, was the new(ish) landlord of the Bridge. We promised him that we would take our guests there next weekend rather than to Wheaton Aston for lunch. We know the Bridge's food is good (and very reasonable); it's just that mooring and winding might be a bit trickier, but I'm sure we shall relish the challenge.

Super supper

Yes, I'm afraid it's recipe corner again, but I'm really pleased with this one, as it was my own invention and turned out really well. Lovely comfort food for a cold winter's evening, and a brilliant dish for entertaining vegans (or vegans entertaining).

Butternut squash, roasted garlic and ginger risotto

2 butternut squashes
1 bulb of garlic
1 small onion
A cubic inch or so of fresh ginger
Half a pack (about 250-300g) risotto rice
A generous glass of white wine
Olive oil
Vegetable stock
Salt and pepper

Quarter and seed the squashes. Separate and peel the garlic cloves. Lay both in a roasting tin and slosh olive oil over - use a pastry brush to make sure it's all covered. Put it in the oven at mark 6.

Chop the onion and the ginger very finely. In a heavy pan, gently fry in olive oil until soft. Add the rice and stir to coat in the oil. Then add the wine and stir. Turn it down to a simmer and keep stirring. When the wine is nearly all absorbed, start adding the stock. There's a lot of mythology about making risotto - keeping the stock simmering, adding it a ladle at a time, and stirring constantly. Not necessary, in my experience. This is the cheat's version. Obviously you do have to keep a close eye on it, and you do have to stir it frequently, but it doesn't come to any harm if you leave it for a minute or two or add a bit more stock at a time. Once the rice is done (bite a few grains to check) and the liquid all absorbed, take it off the stove and put a lid on it while you wait for the stuff in the oven to be done. Season with salt and pepper at this stage.

When the squash is soft (after about an hour, possibly longer if the gas runs out half way through), scrape if off the skin with a sharp-edged spoon. Add this to the rice. Squash the roasted garlic cloves, and add them, and the roasting oil, to the rice too. Gently stir until everything is evenly mixed, and serve. Unlike most risottos, this one doesn't even need any parmesan to be sumptuous.

Really. Try it.

Lamplight

Before we left, Jim rang up the lovely people at Tilley International and ordered a couple of refurbishment kits - new plungers and washers - and some new mantles. The relatively new Tilley lamp (1980s vintage and bought boxed and unused at a jumble sale) had been working OK, but had starting losing pressure lately, while the older, brass one, bought in the antique shop here in Brewood (which sadly is no longer there) had never worked. The third lamp here is if I remember rightly, a more modern Bialaddin.


Jim sat in the back cabin and fettled this afternoon, and this was the result - three fully functioning lamps, and some nice photos, which put me in mind of paintings like this one.

Layers

Amy and Willow yesterday

The snow has gone almost as quickly as it came. By half past nine last night rain was falling, and it became much milder. There was still plenty of snow on the towpath as I walked into Brewood this morning. A few people had walked over it but I could still clearly make out the tracks of birds with big feet (coots perhaps), birds with small feet, and a rabbit. Along the side of the road were prints like a dog's, but with no human ones beside them, so I concluded that it might have been a fox. The going along the towpath was fine; it only became difficult once I got into the village, where the snow was trampled into ice on the pavements, and thrown into drifts of brown slush in the gutters. As it was so much milder, by the time I left the Co-op I had divested myself of woollie cardi and scarf. I walked for a while along a very posh lady who had just bought the Sunday Telegraph. She asked, wasn't I cold - as my top layer now consisted of a rather flimsy looking shirt. When I said no, she said, oh, what it is to be young, which was nice, but I thought I couldn't really collude in this untruth, so I said that I used to feel the cold, but had since discovered the miracle of layers. Ah yes, she said, layers. And thermal underwear, I said. Oh yes, she said, thermal underwear is marvellous. And so they are and so it is.


And for a rather dodgy link (recipe alert Nev!), dinner also consisted of layers. We bought some Jerusalem artichokes in Cannock last week, largely because you so rarely see them. The only time I'd had them previously I made a soup, but looking for something a bit different, I consulted the Blessed Delia. She said that they were good as a replacement for potatoes in potatoes boulangeres, and the recipe for that said that you could use leeks instead of onions, so here is what I did: Peel and thinly (1/4 inch) slice some potatoes (because I didn't have enough Jerusalem artichokes for the whole lot and, you will recall, we have a big sack of potatoes). I then parboiled these for five minutes even though the recipe didn't call for it because experience has taught me that potatoes never cook in the oven otherwise). I did the same with the J.A.s, and sliced but didn't pre-cook the leeks. Then layer these in a well oiled or buttered tin, starting and finishing with potatoes/J.A.s. Pour over about half a pint of stock. Lacking foil I then covered the tin with some baking parchment, and put it in the Epping, which was running at about 100 degrees C. After a couple of hours it was cooked and the top nicely browned, but I indulgently sprinkled it with grated cheese and put it back for another 45 minutes or so, uncovered. I have to say that to my mind this is not the most exciting dinner ever, but it was warm and comforting, easily cooked in the Epping, and the potatoes were very nice.