Devices and desires

We have had people popping in and out of the engine room this morning with micrometers, with a view to reproducing a nifty little device that apparently only we have:



I don't know what it's called but what it does is to drop the decompressor when you're handstarting it, so that you don't need to take a hand off the starting handle. The spiral thread means that it only happens once the engine has had a good few turns and is hopefully ready to fire. The spring would be attached to a bracket to make it work, but it's taken off for electric starting.

Titch!

Yesterday Andy on Dove brought over the gorgeous titch pipe he has made for Chertsey. We didn't previously have one and missed it.



We have now had to ask Andrew whether he'll be able to make us a new standard engine pipe as well, the previous one having taken a serious hammering on the way here (can't remember exactly where; it was case of simply getting into completely the wrong position coming through a bridgehole. Didn't just mangle the cutter this time, but actually managed to split the pipe at the bottom of its seam. Unable to get it back into shape, Jim has sawn it off to make a sort of midi length one.

It is still possible to find bargains in charity shops! On our way to Alvecote this morning we stopped off in Penkridge and visited the local charity shop, where I found a set of Edward VIII dessert dishes, one large and six small ones, a really unusual mug with Edward VIII's abdication on one side and George VI's coronation on the other, and a lovely Queen Elizabeth II mug - a fiver for the dishes and two quid each for the mugs, and most of them of course dating from 1937, the same year as Chertsey.















Plus I finally put up the lovely hooks that Jim bought on eBay for some ridiculously small amount like four pounds..



Lots of photos posted courtesy of the wifi in the Samuel Barlow.

Location:Bargains

Bakewell's bottom

Bakewell is currently out of the water for blacking - and our first inspection of her bottom, which I'm pleased to report is in good nick.



The current blacking is bitumen, and very sound, so as Bakewell isn't likely to be getting much rough treatment Jim spent all day yesterday pressure washing it and is putting some more coats of the same on it.



I just turned up in time to get a rare sighting of a butty's bottom. Tomorrow we are off to reunite with Chertsey at Alvecote.

Plucky podger lives to prod another day

Just before going to bed last night I had one of those 'it won't work but there's no harm in trying' ideas... and it did work!  I have retrofitted the broken rag rug tool with an external flexible tensioning device - i.e. I have wrapped a rubber band around it, and amazingly, it works; it provides enough force to hold the fabric strip and pull it through the hessian, and leaves a long enough point to poke through. Hooray for Heath Robinson!

Rag rug interrupted by tool tragedy

There I was, happily getting on with a new little rag rug, pulling strips of old skirt and blouse through the hessian that Jim kindly fetched up for me at the weekend with my trusty old tool (they appear to have no other name; I tend to call it a podger though I know that strictly speaking it isn't, but it has the same effect)



When suddenly its little pointy jaws refused to bite on the cloth... Its spring has broken!



This is a tragedy*. The trusty tool has been with me for many years, since being purchased at a jumble sale, and has made many rugs. I have searched the internet already for a replacement, but they seem very few and far between (It would of course help if I knew what to call it other than 'tool') and fairly expensive, although no doubt worth it, but any recommendations of where to find one would be gratefully received.


*Not really.

Picturing the impossible

Last weekend I went back to Newhaven for a belated brithday celebration with sons 1&2. On Friday night we went to the Hope down on the quay for a few pints of wonderful, distinctive and froth-free Harveys (it wasn't completely froth-free, being quite lively, but that's ok as it was naturally occurring rather than artificially induced froth). Nothing tastes quite like Harveys; or rather (see Pete Brown's beer blog's latest post), nothing has a flavour quite like Harveys; that sulphurous aroma when you first put your nose in the glass would, I'm sure, put me off if I didn't know how wonderful it tastes. Then on Saturday morning we trekked into Lewes for a bit of charity shopping (nice Monsoon black velvet evening jacket in the Red Cross shop but that was about all), and picked up some more supplies at the Harveys shop. Our birthday meal was a takeaway from The Viceroy (formerly the Last Viceroy, but known to us as Mr Ahmed's since many years ago he was a neighbour). We each chose one main and one side dish and laid them all out as a buffet, along with rice, poppadoms, naans and pickles, and amply demonstrated the fact thatbpeople eat morebif presented with a variety of stuff, by polishing the lot off, which we would never have done if we had each eaten what we had selected.

And then I got my presents! The good thing about your children getting older and richer is that you get better and better birthday presents from them.

Aaron got me a beautiful Victorian cut glass bowl



And Sebastian has got to know an artist and printmaker called Sarah Jones

One of her range of prints is of the Sussex Ouse at Lewes, with the Harveys brewery on the left. This picture is just as it appears on her website so I hope she won't mind me reproducing it rather than just linking to it:



But Baz thoughtnof a terrific refinement. He gave her some photos of Chertsey and she has superimposed Chertsey onto the river, calling the resulting print 'Chertsey visits Lewes' - an impossible journey, but what a fabulous one!



And what an amazing, beautiful and imaginative pair of presents.

Friends reunited

So we left Chertsey tied up alongside the Samuel Barlow car park at Alvecote, and went home...

Monday of last week I got a text from Izzie on Bath (which we last saw at Cowroast) saying that they were tying up next to Chertsey, and then this week, Jim got these photos from Adrian, of Warrior, now in its new colour scheme and signwritten, side by side with its old mate.

Adding to the library

On my recent return visit to Newhaven, I carted back all the canal related books that hadn't made it onto Bakewell. I don't have a massive waterways library, but it is growing steadily. Last week I added to it with these two from a collection being sold off by the BCN Society.



My sudden interest in the Grand Junction Canal (as opposed to the Grand Union Canal Carrying Company) may be explained over the coming months, but on the other hand, it may not.

Anyway, I have learnt a fascinating little fact already, which (with apologies to those of you who have known for years) is that part of what is now Braunston Marina used to be a reservoir into which the bottom lock emptied, to be pumped back to the top, thus avoiding losing the water to the Oxford Canal.

Anger management

I do try not to get cross, I really do. Even when people slew across the canal in front of me, or try to come through a bridge that is clearly mine, thinking that if they toot their little horn enough I'll get out of the way, or when a man in mirrored sunglasses is standing on his boat, arms folded across his chest, watching my approach, just waiting.... waiting... until we pass, to ask sarcastically 'Don't you slow down for boats then?' - which I wouldn't mind so much (because sometimes it's a fair cop) if we hadn't been absolutely crawling (what else can you do on most of the North Oxford) and his boat didn't move an inch as we approached.

I try, but I don't always succeed. Any little annoyance is magnified by the circumstances of boating - you may want to try and communicate; to explain that actually, this isn't fast, to suggest to people that it's usually better to keep going and steer rather than try to stop dead - but the noise of the engine and the increasing distance means that any communication has to be conducted at shouting pitch, and that not only sounds aggressive, but also engenders aggression and even in the few seconds available things quickly escalate as each participant seeks a quick and snappy putdown to get their message across. Sometimes with hindsight I wish I'd stopped and reversed back, and had a proper conversation.

I especially don't like exchanging cross words with fellow bloggers. Despite the obvious fact that boating bloggers are as varied as boaters themselves, and of course I couldn't possibly get on with all of them, it still feels as if we should be some sort of community. And especially when it's a blog I've read and enjoyed in the past (even though I didn't recognise the boat, which I am not going to name). That man was still wrong, but I wish I'd gone back and had a chat rather than shouting.

Rallying round

The IWA National Festival was, as many have noted, a relatively quiet and poorly attended affair, disappointing for many of the traders who took stalls there. Notwithstanding that, we found ourselves having a most enjoyable time, and helping some of the stands towards breaking even. Notable were the Cotswold Canals boat jumble, where we must have spent over Forty quid in total, but with a big box of tools, fittings, undercoat and a historically interesting but contemporarily useless windlass to show for it, and the brass and knick-knacks stall where we returned time and time again, finding something new every time. There was also of course the hippy clothes, frozen yogurt, Indian food, and beer.

And the Chesterfield Canal Trust, where yet again the 50p box yielded treasures. Amongst all the old Waterways World guides and Nicholsons - interesting enough in themselves - there were a few - I think only three - programmes from previous IWA Nationals. And two of these were events which Chertsey attended.



The 1970 rally at Guildford, for which I have the plaque,



plus a photo of Chertsey en route, and the 1964 'Festival of Boats and Arts' at Stratford upon Avon.



I don't have a plaque for this one, but there are photos of Chertsey there, both posted by Max Sinclair on Canalworld, and featured in an issue of Waterways World. This is from the period of Chertsey's life (1962-69) about which we know least, when it was registered as a houseboat, although there is certainly no conversion in the 1964 photos, just some rather tatty cloths. It was at this time that there was apparently an organ in the hold, which was played at the Stratford gathering.

Despite enjoying Cassiobury in the end, I was still pretty certain I wouldn't need to be attending another National any time soon. Until the announced the venue for 2014: Stratford upon Avon, fifty years after Chertsey's first appearance there. How can we not go? We just need to get hold of an organ....

We stop for now..

Return to Stretton
Day 6
Hawkesbury - Alvecote

Another eight hour day, again in hot sun. The weather has been fabulous for this trip, and in that regard at least it must rank as the best boating holiday ever.

We didn't go and see anywhere new ( though the lower GU was pretty unknown to me, and unexpectedly pleasant), but have had a very enjoyable time.

Tomorrow Jim returns to Penkridge by train, and I to Sheffield. We are still undecided whether to move Chertsey back to Stretton the weekend after next, or stay here and attend the Alvecote historic boat gathering in four weeks' time. After last year I thought it wasn't really my cup of tea, as itball got a bit rowdy, but there were plenty of good things too, not only the company, and a load of fantastically turned out boats, but the beer and the breakfasts to name but a few. So while I would't have travelled here just for the gathering, the possibility of attending on the way home is quite tempting.

Better late than never

Return to Stretton (stopping at Alvecote)
Day 4, Gayton to Braunston
Day 5, Braunston to ...

Best laid plans

Return to Stretton day 3
Fenny Stratford to Gayton Junction

Not much to show for a day's boating, you might think, and you'd be right. Just as I texted Clair to say we were on schedule and hoping To be enjoying a birthday mixed grill in the Greyhound, than the engine started to slow down of its own accord. About a mile south of Stoke Bruerne, we pulled into a lovely (if nettly) overgrown bit of towpath for Jim to investigate.

Having first suspected a fault in the fuel lift pump, the problem was eventually traced to a loose banjo joint, allowing air into the system. Tightening that up seems to have done the trick, but as the starter motor won't engage when the engine's hot, it took us a while to check it out. In all we were stopped for about four and a half hours. I'm not complaining; it was a lovely spot and the sunshine was just perfect.

We set off again about five o'clock, up the Stoke Bruerne locks, once again pairing, fortuitously, with the Wyvern hireboat Bluebell, and then through the tunnel, stopping not very far the other side as dinner was ready. I have discovered that the Beatrice stove is excellent for this all purpose recipe - cut up whatever vegetables you have to hand, add a tin of chickpeas or beans of some kind, and a jar/tin of Pataks curry sauce or some Italian tomato stuff, and put over a low flame until the vegetables are cooked. It barely needs stirring and all the veg, including onions, is done to a turn, even without prior frying. Tonight was fresh broad beans and cabbage, an onion, a tin of butter beans, and bolognese sauce, topped with cheese. the vegetables might not sound inspiring but it was lovely and very substantial.

I have started remembering to make the lunchtime sandwiches before we leave, which is also useful.

Anyway, clearly our tight schedule is now all gone to pot, so in a way the pressure is off. We have arranged to leave Chertsey at Alvecote this weekend, and have booked birthday dinner at the Nelson insterdof the Greyhound. I shall miss visiting the latter pub, butbthe food at the Nelson when we visited last month was outstanding, so that will be something to lok forward to.

It's extraordinary to think, now that Chertsey is back on the Grand Union after probably thirty-odd years, how many hundreds of times she must have been up and down it in her working life. I know it's fanciful, but it's almost as of the boat knows its way around the bends and into the locks. Not instinct maybe, but perhaps engineering. Apart from the trip down to Cassiobury (and I only did that as far as Cowroast) this os only the second time I have travelled this part of the GU (the first was on Chiswick, a long time ago) and I only now appreciate how lovely it is.

Literal web log

Return to Stretton day 2

Dudswell top lock - Fenny Stratford
11 hours
About 20 miles
26 locks

Faster progress today because fewer slow people in front of us. Perhaps we'll manage an earlier start tomorrow!

Red Lion, despite being a 2010 CAMRA local pub of the year, has only Doom Bar and Pedigree. No food so making a curry out of the veg that was only slightly mouldy. Broad beans tomorrow!

Return from Cassiobury

Can we get back to Stretton in a week?

Day 1
Iron Bridge Lock, Cassiobury - Dudswell Top Lock

About 12 miles
31 locks
12 1/2 hours
32 degrees

Came as far as Berkhamsted with the London Narrow Boat Project boat Guinevere, being returned to Braunston by Mike and his crew - excellent lock sharing!

So far, so...

Up bright and early this morning - as I have been every morning, in fact, since this summer finally began - and set off with my bag full of clean boating undies, and another one containing the contents of my Beanies organic vegetable box (did I mention I accidentally landed in the painfully trendy bit of Sheffield?) down the hill to the station. Even at eight in the morning it was sweltering, and I would have succumbed to the temptation of getting on the bus, only I didn't have enough change and I couldn't face the bus driver's look.

This time I was off to Watford Junction, where Iain verybkindly met me and took me to meet Chertsey at Cassiobury Park, where we are attending the IWA National Festival (or 'The National' as the cognoscenti know it). You may recall that I was not relishing a weekend of being entertained by Sheridan the Robotic Sheepdog.

I've not been to many Nationals - we went by car to Beale Park and Preston Brook, and in Warrior to St Ives, and that's it. The thing thatnpeople are noticing about this one is that there isn't actually very much emphasis on boats. Cassiobury Park is a lovely park, but the main festival site is a long way from the canal. There are only about eight historic boats here, and we're not really displayed to best advantage. I don't know how many other boats have come and are strung along the towpath, but they certainly don't feature heavily in the publicity material.

On the field there are some of the usual stands, but I don't think it's my imagination that there are fewer than in the past. No Waterways World; no boatbuilders; strangest of all, no CRT fundraisers... There are lots of food stalls and a beer tent with about half a dozen real ales.

There is no mud, which must be a disappointment to the Wergies (or is it spelt WRGies?). The whole site is very pleasant indeed, and our towpath mooring most agreeable. The temporary infrastructure that has gone into this weekend is very impressive, and there are dozens of volunteers making sure no one leaves by an incorrect exit. The are some nice little bits and bobs to buy (but the best ones have already been snapped up of course). Best of all we have met up with the Plovers and the Owls and the Warblers (Izzie on Bath has accused me of having a bird fetish and this will only bear it out).

As for the festival itself, I shall reserve judgement until tomorrow at least.

Shipyard Songs sharing

You may recall me raving a few months back about the Unthanks' 'Songs from the Shipyards' CD and above all, show, in which their songs accompany a compilation of archive film charting the boom and decline of shipbuilding on the Tyne.

There really, really ougt to be a DVD release of it, but I guess they have their reasons.

What I stumbled upon today, however, looks every bit as good, if perhaps more transient. I say looks, because I'm at work and haven't had the chance to listen to it, but take a look and a listen to this website.

Travels update

For various reasons (mostly to do with eating, drinking and socialising) I didn't post regular updates of our journey back from Braunston. A grand total of no people whatsoever have expressed and concern, nay any interest, about this, but I thought perhaps I should bring you up to date before the next leg begins.

Following a brief delay in leaving Braunston, we set off in the company of the josher Owl, and the extraordinarily hospitable Jim and Sue thereof. Owl is one of the loveliest conversions I have been inside, all beautifully polished wood. Its butty, Hampton, is done out in 1930s style and is equally impressive, although it wasn't with us on this trip.

Because Jim wanted to go back to Newhaven before the National (I had to go back to work), and wasn't 100% confident of the security of leaving Chertsey at Cassiobury that far in advance of the festival, we had a change of plan, arriving last Thursday at Cowroast, where Owl moors, and leaving Chertsey there. We had hoped there would be a spare space on their offside moorings, but when we got there, who should be on it but Bath! No problem, there was space on the 14 day moorings by the marina entrance, and there we left Chertsey.

Jim has gone back today to fond her safe and sound, albeit covered in tree sticky, duck poo, and, apparently, even goose crap, so he has spent the afternoon scrubbing it all off. I can't get off work until the end of next week, so local lad Alan Fincher (of Sickle fame) is going to accompany Jim on the final leg. When I initially texted to ask if he could, Alan replied that with 33 GU locks it would be a hard day's boating, but that he was up for it. I quickly assured him that we'd been planning to take two days over it!

So, I believe they leave tomorrow, and all being well I shall join Chertsey at Cassiobury on Friday.

Enormous thanks to Jim and Sue for their great company, amazing hospitality, and lifts to and from the station.

To do list

I have come back from the latest bout of boating with a new list of little tasks, Chertsey for the further improvement of.

They include:
Step
Bedscrews
Primus
Stern tube floor sect.
Sump and pump stern tube
Lace plates
Cabin painting
Window cloths
Mini rugs
Cabin cushion
Boarding under counter
Weedhatch?
Information board
Tiller pin hooks
Engine pipe spline

Some explanatory notes may be required.

1. The step needs its corner rounded off, for easier egress from the cabin - i.e. to get your foot past the stove. This is especially pertinent since buying the boiler, which I keep kicking. When this is done we can replace the current brass edging with a shorter but more rounded piece, which will look nice and be less vicious.

2. Two of the screws have come out of the bed cupboard hinge, meaning that I dare not shut it in case it all bursts out at the bottom. So they need replacing with larger ones.

3. The Monitor stove which I bought unused (but fifty years old) is now getting regular use in the hold. So I thought it would be good to clean up one of the real old Primuses I bought a couple of years ago for display in the cabin, especially if we go to the Black Country Museum gathering in September.

4. At present, you have to take up half the cabin floor to check how much the stern gland has been leaking and empty the basin. (And, of late, mop out the bilge.) A two-plank removable section would make this task a lot easier.

5. But what I would really like to do is make a sump bigger than the existing basin, with a tube in it connected to an attractive manual pump, and this obviate the need for taking the floor up at all.

6. Despite heretofore having a violent revulsion towards them, I have now decided that a hanging up plate or two would be just the thing to brighten up the corner by the stove (you can't buck tradition; these things didn't evolve without a reason). I was doing my round of the charity shops last weekend and I thought, if I see a hanging up plate, I shall buy it. I turned around, and there was this:



7. I need to finish painting the interior of the cabin.

8. The ex-UCC window cloths I bought at the legendary Droitwich tat auction were a real boon, but they are only 3' wide, but come down to the gunnel and protrude below the top cloths. So I would like to get a couple of translucent top cloths, a couple of inches shorter than the black ones. They cpuld then stay permanently in place, and the black ones folded back to let light in, or replaced to look proper.

9. Rather than make a big rug - say 3' by 2' - I thought it might be more useful to make a number of smaller ones. A new one would come out only at night, for bare feet; the next oldest would go on the cabin floor beneath the step, and the oldest would be relegated to the step itself. I'm picturing something about 2' x 18"

10. I need something to sit on on the sidebed, whilst reading under the porthole.

11. A smooth floor under the counter, flying over the structural bits of steel, would make it a lot easier to get stuff in and out of this capacious but awkward space.

12. No, not really.

13. At the moment I have an A4 sheet of paper with information about Chertsey's history on it. I would like to develop this into an illustrated information board, with photos etc. I thought I might start with a cheap plastic clip frame from Wilko's.

14. A couple of hooks in the side of the ticket drawer cabinet thingy would make a good place to hang the tiller pin(s). They keep falling out ot the soap hole.

15. We need to tap a bolt into the exhaust flange and make a notch in the pipe to sit on it so that the bloody pipe stops revolving. Whitby has a notch on the flange and a rivet in the pipe, but I'd be afraid of it coming out and falling in the engine...

Braunston booty

I bought Chertsey a little present...



Mmm... Constant hot water.
Hmm... Constant polishing.

This little piggy stayed at home

In stead of going to Market Harborough. Jim's various meetings today seem to have been successful, but sadly meant that we couldn't make the time for a round trip to this significant town. It will have to be another time. I fancy a trip one day taking in the whole of the Grand Union and every branch and arm.

We have however finished our pub researches with a very decent meal at the Black Horse, after spending an excellent hour back in the Bridge 61, where we were made very welcome by proprietor and regulars alike.

We have moved Chertsey back out of the arm and are all set to be the first up the locks tomorrow, as long as no one gets out of bed before us.

Leicestershire or Leicester Square?

Today we spent a lazy day at Foxton, recovering and continuing our researches. Last night we spent a pleasant evening in the Bridge 61, chatting with the crew of Buffalo, who we met at the Retford and Worksop boat club the year before last. The beer from the local Langton Brewery, Bridge 61 and Inclined Plane, we good, but we thought rather expensive at £3.30 a pint. Well, we clearly thought wrong, because in the interests of research, tonight we are in the Foxton Locks Inn, where a pint of Rutland Beast is £3.70! My Castle Rock Sherriffs Tipple, at only 3.4% was £2.60. While only four nights ago, in the Great Northern, we were paying £2.80 for beer that was every bit as good. This has now superseded my previous most expensive pub pint ever, a record that has stood for at least three years and was set in the Warwick Castle in Little Venice. I imagine that the four pound pint has already been reached in London.

Tomorrow night we investigate the black Horse, and the other pub in the village whose name eludes me for the moment. Jim is meeting with the local CRT bod at half past eight (yes! I know!!) tomorrow morning, and the village hall representative at four o'clock. In between we intend to go to Market Harborough, unless I'm still too knackered.

Meanwhile, I'm not sure how long we're supposed to stay here... Any idea what this means?

The research begins

Kings Lock to Foxton
15 miles, 20 locks, 9 hours (nearly)

Well, we have made it to Foxton, and this is a brief post as we are about to begin our researches into the suitability of the area for next year's HNBC Easter gathering, starting with the pubs of course. On Monday Jim has meetings with various people, and tomorrow we were meant to be cleaning the brass, but I have persuaded Jim that we can fit in a trip to Market Harborough and still be able to leave for Braunston on Tuesday. We are actually moored on the Market Harborough Arm, so it would be harder not to...

The same river twice

Kegworth Deep Lock to Kings Lock
24 1/2 miles, 18 locks, 11 3/4 hours




Bit of an epic day today, mainly occasioned by the necessity of Not Stopping in Leicester, which, I can confirm, has the highest concentration of pissheads per mile of towpath of any city in England (I wouldn't like to speak for Scotland).

The old proverb has it that you can't step in the same river twice... And this river is very different fromthe Soar we boated on Warrior in 2009. Then we were going downstream and it was nearly - and ultimately, actually - in flood, making for a hair raising journeynthat has led me ever since to say that the Soar is the scariest river I have travelled.

Today however all was calm, green and sunshine and dragonflies and the delicious smell of weirs; riparian loveliness at its, well, most riparian loveliest.

Leicester is a funny place. Miles of town centre moorings that no one dares use, not even a hippy commune; masses of people who are mad, drunk, both or otherwise scary - and yet it could be great.

Random photo of Freemans Meadow lock by the football ground.

Six hours

Langley Mill to Kegworth Deep Lock
15 miles, 17 locks, 8 hours

When I got to Langley Mill yesterday I got chatting to Val, HNBC neweletter editor, very long time boater, and former owner of Saltaire, who has moored therebfor a very long time; quite possibly forever, in fact. I said we were aiming to leave reasonably early this morning. Leave at six, she said; be at Trent Lock by twelve. Mmm, I thought, given that it had taken us ten hours to get up the Erewash, even allowing for the factbthatbwe started from Shardlow. Well, I said, we will have Jim on the bike. Oh, replied Val, a bike. It'll only take five hours then.

Needless to say I was highly sceptical. We didn't manage even to get up very early, following an excellent evening in the newly refurbished Great Northern. Since being taken over by a small local pubco,they now have five, mostly local, real ales, and two ciders, all constantly changing. They also do food, but stopped serving at eight. So we decided to have a takeway from the excellent local Indian, Merhan, and asked the new landlord if we could bring it in, as we were enjoying his beer so much. No problem, and when Jim went to fetch it the landlord brought over plates and cutlery. So we had a fabulous repast, washed down with Kelhan Island Riders on the Storm.

Thus is was that it was gone ten by the time we were ready to leave. Jim divined that another boat was about to leave, and we decided to ask them if they wanted to share locks with us - always a bit of a gamble as you can never tell what sort of boaters people are going to be, but the crew of Ella were great. By which I mean they weren't prissy about getting their blacking scratched, roping up in locks, or opening gate paddles. With Jim on the bike setting the locks ahead we worked like a well oiled machine, and between us were indeed at Trent Lock in six hours. Ella turned off towards the T&M while we headed across to the Soar. Having made such good progress we decided to keep going for a bit longer. The weather had been very good up until then, cool and dry in the morning and warmer and even a bit sunny later.



But by the time we got onto the Soar it was clouding over agian, then it began to spit, and by the time we got to Kegworth, was raining in earnest; that very fine rain that you can't hear but which makes you very wet. So having got soaked, we stopped and had a bottle of beer, and a butter bean curry cooked on the Beatrice.

Hopefully we really will get an early start tomorrow. We need to be at Foxton on Monday, which should, barring disasters, be a piece of cake, and have just decided to take a quick detour to Market Harborough.

Bad timing

I remember well the summer of 2006 ... Hot and dry; the sun beating down as I blacked Warrior for the first time.

A report from the recent Met Office conference has just confirmed that, because of temperature cycles in the Atlantic, 2006 was the last time we had a properly warm, dry summer.

It was in 2007, of course, that we started taking long summer boat trips.

The great pot shift

Re-reading my post about an interesting discovery in the washing up bowl (what do you mean, 'a life'?) I was reminded of a sign I saw in a teaching room last semester - 'Please do not leave dirty pots in the room' - which caused a bit of a double take, a pot being, to my mind, either a large vessel in which you cook something, or a (similarly sized) one in which a toddler pees (etc).

And this in turn led me to ruminate upon the question, similar to that of how far north I can pronounce 'bath' without being pointed and laughed at (around Northampton, I'm led to believe), of where washing the dishes becomes washing the pots, or vice versa.

Uncharted

As many of you will know, Tony Blews has moved his fabulous waterways website rankings to a new server (or something) meaning that the old code ceased working. Most bloggers have dutifully inserted the new code* into their widget and continued to be ranked against each other and compiled by Halfie every Sunday teatime. I've just deleted mine. From the perspective the common interest, I'm sure I shouldn't have. After all, the rankings will only have any validity if a critical mass of websites participate. But from a personal point of view - I'm always in danger of getting obsessed with it. People like me just shouldn't get involved with that sort of thing. So with one less thing to obsess over, I'll have more energy to devote to Grand Union fleet numbers.

*Lucky I proofread that - I had you all inserting a cod into your widget which doesn't sound at all pleasant.

Festival fun. Er.

Well, I'm just getting some forms filled in and ready to send of for this summer of festival fun and frolics.

The first is for Braunston. It costs nothing to enter, we get to meet up with congenial old-boat owners (important hyphen, there). There's a beer tent, there's music (admittedly too loud); bean burgers and parades. There are masses of gorgeous boats to look at. Entry to the public is the price of a day's parking so it's a great time and place to meet up with non-historic-boat-owning friends. What's more, the sun always shines.

Then there is the IWA National at Cassiobury Park. It costs £65 for a boat and two people. It will be largely packed with modern boats, including I dare say, quite a few shiny ones. It is in a field a long way from the canal. It will rain and the field will be exceedingly muddy (but not, of course 'as bad as Wakefield'). This is the entertainment timetable. I have already entered a deep depression at the prospect of  'Sheridan the Robotic Sheepdog ... touring the site on his electric tricycle welcoming children and grownups alike.'

We last went to the National in 2007, with Warrior. It was OK (very muddy, although 'not as bad as Wakefield') but I decided then that it was something you only needed to do once. However, we have volunteered to deliver the HNBC shop. A quick run down and up the GU seemed like a good idea at the time. Jim has volunteered to help with the Festival and has been appointed a Harbourmaster on account of his scaffolding skills (which tells you something). I shall be helping with the HNBC shop, which should hopefully keep me safe from Sheridan the Robotic Sheepdog who, to be honest, sounds deeply scary.

Village shops

It is often said that Sheffield is a collection of villages (it's often said about London too, and quite possibly every other city in the country too, though London must surely be a collection of small to medium sized towns). Of Sheffield though, well, parts of it at any rate, it is certainly true. And I live in a very nice village called Broomhill. It is by all accounts one of the nicest bits of Sheffield, and I ended up here completely by chance, having searched Rightmove for places within a mile of the office when I first got the job here.

It is well provided with shops, and for what Broomhill can't provide (knitting wool, mung beans), there is Crookes a mile or so up the road (with a fine selection of charity shops) and of course the city centre a couple of miles down the hill.

I have been making a conscious effort to utilise the local shops, as I have mentioned before, in particular Fruit-A-Peel, who are now experimentally stocking tinned tomatoes and chickpeas too. And on Friday I plucked up the courage to enter the record shop, Record Collector. I don't know why it should take a lot of courage as much of my adolescence was spent haunting the second hand record shops of Brighton as my mother sought to feed a burgeoning Dylan habit. I still can't see a rack of LPs without flicking through in search of a mono Blonde on Blonde.

So in I went, as if I did that sort of thing every day (it helped that the doors were open in the sunshine), and quickly located the 'folk and world music' section. Navigating it was a little trickier; it was alphabetical after a fashion but utterly random other than that, new and second hand CDs, folk and world, all jumbled together. I found a couple that were of slight interest, and next time I want a new CD I shall go to Record Collector* rather than Amazon - but I didn't see anything where interest and price converged at the right point.... until I gradually became aware that right in my line of sight was a second hand copy of June Tabor and the Oysterband's 1990 collaboration Freedom and Rain - the very record I have been looking for and what's more, only £3.



They got together again last year (or was it the year before) and produced Ragged Kingdom - my absolute favourite record of the year, albeit with two excruciating tracks which did not make it onto the pod. If you're familiar with the album I'm sure you can guess which they are. We went with Baz and Izzi to see them in Bexhill last year and it was a stunning show (not least because of Ms Tabor's entrancingly fabulous coat). What presence that tiny, sixty five year old woman has, and what a voice. I already had a lot of her solo albums, but hadn't come across Freedom and Rain, and though it was on sale at the concert, I bought a T-shirt instead. After the concert, which included a lot of material from the earlier album, was over of course I wanted to buy it, but the sales table was now overwhelmed with crowds and we needed to get away, so I thought, I'll just get it off Amazon... Well, I see you can get it for six quid now, but when I last looked there was nothing under sixteen, so I didn't. Which has turned out for the best.

Next challenge: the butchers

*I was going to put a link to their website, but it's very aggressive with its cookies, so I shan't.

Wot no potatoes

I know I'm going native because at the Langley Mill 'hog roast' I could be heard to exclaim 'Five pounds for a hot pork sandwich!?!!!! And you don't even get roast potatoes in it!'

On the other hand, I am not yet entirely comfortable with strangers enquiring in detail about the state of my health prior to getting to the point of a business phone call.

A useful discovery in the washing up bowl

In our household this is called a scritcher, and I always use one in preference to a dishrag to do the washing up. Whilst doing it on Chertsey last week though, I made a useful discovery - useful that is when you don't have a draining board or a nearby dryer-upper (or even if you do have the latter but not the former). If, after cleaning your plate, mug, spoon or whatever with the scritchy bit, you give the scritcher a quick rinse and a squeeze, all whilst still holding the plate, mug, spoon or whatever in the other hand, you can then wipe it over with the sponge bit and it will remove nearly all the water. You can then put it down on a table or sidebed or hand it to a nearby (but almost redundant) dryer-upper without making any mess, and unlike using a teatowel or wrung out dishrag it can be done one handed.

Sun, tea and band

The BBC forecast wasn't wrong, and after two days of horrible cold wind and rain, this morning dawned bright and sunny. Just as well, as we still had to take the topcloths off, attach the rest of the stringettes, and roll down the sidecloths, clear out the hold, move the top planks, put the stands in and wrestle the mast back into place, ready to be decked with the bunting I made yesterday.



We were ready just in time to set off backwards into the lock at half past ten. Bath was already in there, facing downhill, and we breasted up. We then went down the lock and proceeded slowly past the long line of thickly moored boats towards Anchor Bridge. Bath was providing the motive power, but I was called upon to provide auxiliary steering - a sort of bowthruster I suppose - causing one wag to comment that it was the strangest tug-of-war he'd ever seen.


Once we got to Anchor Bridge, Chertsey nestled in the (very low) bridgehole while Bath winded, then we breasted up again, both now facing uphill. I attached the bunting - which happened to be exactly the right length - and the Holymoorside Brass Band bagan to arrive. Jim and Adrian helped them and their instruments into the boats, where we had chairs set out ready for them. Right on time (I think the time was 1200) we set off again, with the band playing, back past the line of moored boats, not touching a single one despite them being three deep (and despite one very agitated owner of a Shiny Boat clearly not believing us capable of such a feat), and slowly and magisterially arrived back into the lock, which was then filled very slowly, the boats and band rising triumphantly from the depths, playing, for some reason, New York New York, and not the traditional eighteenth century melodies I promised you yesterday. They played on for a while in the lock, before disembarking and taking up positions in front of the beer tent.



We left the boats in the lock a while longer, while we, with Adrian and Linda, visited the beer tent and the stalls, and then moved back to our spot alongside the dry dock, all the better to enjoy the second highlight of the day - our tea. Linda had cooked one of her spectacular meat and potato pies. Rather, because of the limited size of the Epping's oven she had cooked two smaller ones, but they wouldn't both fit in my oven, so one was sent over to be warmed through in Bath's - and in return Dave and Izzie joined me, Jim, Adrian and Linda on Chertsey's back end deck to enjoy pie, mushy peas, pickled cabbage and gravy, all seasoned of course with Henderson's relish. Fabulous - thank you so much Linda!


What a contrast to yesterday, which was cold, miserable and utterly uneventful. Today has been hot and sunny and a marvellous time has been had by all.

Individual stringettes

Today it continued cold and rainy, but with added wind. Nonetheless, in preparation for the removal of all the topcloths, and the rolling up of the sidecloths, which we haven't so far done, we prepared a number (about 34; I lost count) of individual stringettes which are to be stapled to the gunnel and can then be run through the ring and ties back on themselves tonhold the rolled sidecloths neatly. I doubt if this is the traditional way of doing it, but it seems to work.



Not wishing to backsplice sixty eight ends (and not having had the time, even if I was mad enough to wish to) we took advantage of Hempex's synthetic nature and heat sealed them. Jim bought a lighter for the purpose but we discovered that it was quicker and easier doing them on tne Beatrice, as that way we could each do two ends at a time. Except even under the cloths the stove kept blowing out in the wind.



Then I used the remaining Hempex, a couple of old tablecloths, and some gaffer tape to make some not very good bunting for tomorrow. I really will get round to doing it properly one day.

Walking to Nottinghamshire

This morning was cold and horrible, so rather than work on the boat, we decided to take the opportunity to walk the half mile or so into Eastwood. I had a vague idea that this had some D.H. Lawrence connection, but hadn't really been aware that it was where he was born, and the excellent birthplace museum, run by the local authority, was a very pleasant surprise. Trying the rather forbidding door, it yielded to let us into the gift shop, where two ladies were on duty. As we we the only customers at that point, they decided to start the guided tour just for us, and it was very well done. I just love recreated historical houses anyway, and the literary connection - and Lawrence's interesting life - made it all the more rewarding.

The house, in Victoria Street, was where the family lived until Lawrence was two - they occupied a further three houses in the town, each bigger and in a better area than the last, culminating in a five bedroomed house at the top of the hill. For a miner's cottage, the house seemed spacious - two up, two down with an attic, a shared wash house and toilet - but the rooms were large and reasonably high ceilinged. While Lawrence's father, Arthur, was a miner, his mother Lydia was educated and had worked as a schoolteacher. She was determined to pass the gift of education on to her five children, of whom David Herbert Richards (known to the family as Bert, but to everyone in his adult life, including his wife, simply as Lawrence) was the fourth (from memory they were Emily, George, Ernest, David and Ada). Bert was consided a bit of a mummy's boy, and didn't start school until he was eight - by which time he already knew more than most boys leaving school at fourteen, including French which Lydia taught him.

So I learnt something today, as well as sheltering from some vicious sleet and hailstorms which continued throughout the afternoon.

Preparations for the brass band have been postponed in the faint hope of better weather. Bath has had staging built in the hold so that at least the upper part of the band members will be visible; we have our extended deck over the back end, but beyond that it looks like our contingent will be seated at floor level, as there is no more material available to make staging. I have visions of them all being deafened as the sound bounces around in the hold.

We have come up into the basin forwards; the winding hole is a little way down the canal, at Anchor Bridge, which is where we will be loading the band. So the idea is that Bath, which is facing downhill, will tow Chertsey backwards down to Anchor Bridge. Bath will then wind, and we will breast up, the band will get on, and will play as we return to the basin, including ascending the lock, emerging from the depths playing the same music as was played at the opening of the canal in 1779 years ago, as has been done every five years since the first rally held in 1973.

The delights of Langley Mill

You have to have a positive attitude, admittedly, but they can be found. One charity shop - Barnardos - where Jim got a fantastic leather jacket; a richly deserved reward for working all those heavy locks yesterday. There is an Asda - without which the Duck-Willows may not have survived, which has appeared since our last visit and seems to have taken over almost the whole town. This is not, in itself, a good thing. There is also still a Lidl, which is special for being the first Lidl I ever visited, where we were amazed at the eclectic range of goods on offer and bought a shower hose for £2.99 which has outlasted more expensive ones by miles. An there is the Great Northern pub, which was due to close this week for refurbishment, but was persuaded that it might be an idea to stay open for the duration of the rally. Only two beers on, but one was Navigation stout, which Jim and Dave found very acceptable, and a decent carvery put on for us at an excellent price. I hear tonight that the rally beer tent will feature twenty one different beers, plus two ciders, and even some lager, so as not to discriminate against those poor unfortunates with no taste. Tomorrow, if we're not too busy building staging in the hold, we may walk up the road and sample the delights of Eastwood.

Back at t'Mill

Day four, Shardlow - Langley Mill
Ten and a quarter hours, 15 miles, 18 locks (according to Canalplan)



So here we are, back in the Great Northern Basin again, after yet another uneventful day, making this, I think, our first disaster free trip. Hooray!

One thing we never really noticed with Warrior, when we came up the last time (in 2009) is the very low bridges. We knew in theory, hence we took down the deckboard and cratch before leaving; in fact we call running like this 'Erewash mode'. In practice however, it meant a lot of quick engine pipe removal, and in the end, once Jim was on the bike and I was steering alone, leaving it off entirely - with me muffled like a bandit with a hippy tie-dye scarf in the hope of fending off a few of the diesel particles. We really do need to get a titch pipe.

I remembered the Erewash as far more interesting than it actually seemed to be this time. There are some lovely old buildings at the bottom end, but most of it is semi rural looking (but with scary potential never too far away, if people are to be believed). The locks are still bloody heavy, although some of the more outlandish anti-vandal locks have been modified. A lot of the paddle gear doesn't work, meaning that sometimes you have to start with the rather effective gate paddles. That's my idea of fun, but might not suit the faint hearted.

I reckon that having Jim go ahead on the bike saved at least five minutes a lock (however long it took to empty it and get the vandal locks off) and so potentially well over an hour in total, even though we caught up with Cassiopaeia and Marquis as a result. This meant that we arrived in the basin just before it started to rain - the first rain of the trip - hooray again!



The other thing I'd forgotten is how much Trent there is on this route. Last time we came up here we came off the Soar (the way we are leaving this time) from where it's straight across into Trent Lock and the start of the Erewash. Coming from the T&M there's a bit of river to do and then a hairpin bend into the lock.

Fat and ugly

Barton-under-Needwood to Shardlow
20 miles (approx), 9 locks, 9 hours 50 minutes

Not all wide beam boats are ugly, but all the ones I've seen today are. And, just because you can just about squeeze it through the bridgeholes, doesn't mean it's a good idea.



Another pretty uneventful day. We had a brief hiatus when a joint came loose on a fuel pipe, but Jim diagnosed it almost immediately and fixed it within minutes. We then had to contend with the starter motor's reluctance to engage when the engine's hot, but even with that we were only delayed about ten minutes.

We met Colin and Annie on Eli at Horninglow. They are also on their eay to Langley Mill, along with many oher members of the Les Allen Register, who are having a gathering there. This will be rather exciting for us, as Chertsey as a little bit a Les Allen boat - he put the steel skin on Richard Barnett's oak cabin.

We got to Shardlow at about six, got a splendid mooring, and are now between supper and dessert in the New Inn, which is just as good as we remembered from four years ago, and where we managed to start a vigorous discussion among the regulars by requesting out beer without the 'sparkler' (i.e. flattener).

Tomorrow.... the entIre Erewash. We shall see.

High road, low road; fast road, slow road

Baswich Bridge (100, S&W) - near Barton-under-Needwood
11 hours, 22 miles, 13 locks



Another really successful day brought us nearly to Barton Turns Marina (but not quite!), tied up adjacent to the A38, which is one of my favourite roads. It's part of my journey from Sheffield to Stretton, and the best part - twenty plus miles with no roundabouts. That twenty miles takes about twenty minutes (if I'm trying to drive economically); today's twenty odd miles took eleven hours... And I reckon that if I had a car here, I could be back at Stretton (which we left yesterday morning) in about an hour and a half.

Although I knew that the A38 tpuched on the Trent and Mersey, I hadn't realised it ran parallel for such a distance.

Once again today, Nothing Bad Has Happened, and the sun has shone. There have been queues at some locks, and some annoying people, but Jim only shouted at one of them - a man in front of us who wanted to stop in the lock and fish for windlasses. We even had an ice cream at Fradley. Long may this run of good fortune continue!

A good start

Day 1 - Stretton Wharf to beyond Baswich Bridge
10 hours, 23 miles and 12 locks

A very good start to the day, in fact, because we winded at Stretton in about five minutes, which smashes the previous record. And a good start to the trip, because we haven't got stuck on the bottom once, and have got a lot further than we have on any previous Day One.

The hold has been cleared out ready for the brass band, and we are taking advantage of the extra space by establishing a camp in here, with table, chairs and Beatrice stove. This all started because I had the idea of bringing the Beatrice stove in here to make tea as we go along. I wouldn't fancy lighting the Primus on a moving boat, but the Beatrice is so stable that the worst that could happen is the water falling off the top and going into the bilges. And it hasn't happened yet. The tea has been pretty horrid, which I don't know whether to attribute to the ancient water in the tanks, the previous uses of the teapot we boiled it in, or the fact that the Beatrice doesn't quite get the water hot enough.

Ready for the off

At long last (can it really be the first time since August), we are going boating again, and I am writing this in Chertsey's back cabin, all cleaned and polished and stocked with provisions.

Tomorrow will begin with the traditional ordeal of winding, in a winding hole that is only just wide enough and only just deep enough, but, on the plus side, is right next to the mooring. Even if we return from, say, Stourport or Wheaton Aston, we can't tie up facing towards Autherley, as the mooring is only deep enough for the deepest bit of the boat at one end.



As I am sure I have mentioned, we are off to Langley Mill, for the first phase of our now somewhat more epic and somewhat less round trip, as we are now going to take in the IWA National at Cassiobury Park instead of Cropredy (Baz 'n' Iz are still going to the Cropredy festivay, but have inexplicably elected to camp rather than boat). This outing should take ten days in total, and then we'll be leaving Chertsey at Langley Mill until it's time to proceed to Braunston.

And I really will try (signal permitting) to keep the web log up to date...

Tonight we are off to have dinner at the Bell Inn, better known as the Noted Ham 'n' Eggery. Easily the nearest pub to the mooring, within easy walking distance if you're prepared to take your life in your hands on the A5, but I had never got around to visiting it until last winter, when Mike and I walked there in the snow - and Jim didn't set foot inside until last week. The fact that we are returning so soon tells you that we were pretty impressed - particularly last week. Good food (albeit not a great place for veggies) and excellent young staff. Let's hope it's as good tonight to get the trip off to a good start.

Decisions!

On Friday I drove down from Sheffield to Stretton in my beloved Bluebird, who now resides there with me, then today Jim and I motored three quarters of the way back, and then beck to Stretton again, and tomorrow I shall go all the way back again. Today's journey was to a HNBC committee meeting. They can be lengthy affairs, punctuated in some cases, like today's, with a pub lunch - but things are improving! We started at eleven rather than ten, were finished by five, and - this is the best bit - make quite a few decisions.

Clearly, this doesn't sound like the most effective way of running a committee, but it is all rather enjoyable... a few hours spent discussing matters of mutual interest in the company of like minded people - what could be nicer. So there isn't really any hurry to get through the business.

Why, you may ask, did I bother coming all the way back to Stretton when I was so much nearer the meeting in Sheffield? Well, it's less than a week now until we leave for the Erewash, and a great deal of stuff has to be removed from Chertsey's hold so that the brass band can be fitted in, and that's much easier with two people. By tomorrow it should all have been transferred to Bakewell, temporarily.

Cruising envy

Every day now I'm reading about the travels of Starcross, Herbie and Captain Ahab, not to mention continuous cruisers Valerie, and I'm getting a very itchy tiller hand. Last year, with all the time in the world to boat, we barely moved from the mooring - an example of living-next-door-to-St-Paul's syndrome perhaps; this year, busier at work than ever, every precious day of leave must be used to the maximum. Easter having been, if not a washout, then a blow- and freeze-out, the serious boating begins on - oooh - Friday week, as we set off for Langley Mill. How I entertain them in the office, saying sorry, I shall be on holiday then, but I'll be popping back half way through to teach a class and pick up the car...

And we shan't be setting off alone. Sadly Willow aka Willoughby aka The Furry Gentleman will not be accompanying us on this trip because - happily! - Dr and Mrs Duct will be, as far as Burton at any rate.

Plans are afoot for the accommodation of half a brass band on Chertsey (the other half will be on Bath, which I guess sort of rhymes whichever side of the vowel shift you're on), and I have belatedly been informed that it is customary for boaters to don 'traditional' costume. I have not thus far needed to confront the thorny issue of fancy dress and the historical authenticity or otherwise thereof (it's permanently about 1950 on Chetsey, don't forget, externally at least... 1960 in the engine room and 1970 in the cabin... So hell, why not 1890 at the tiller...) but overall I am not a fan of dressing up. I have however conceded that I will wear a long black skirt, which is what I might wear anyway if it weren't so damned impractical for boating.

I have recently, on a couple of occasions, been out and participated in vaguely cultural activities, which, if I were Diamond Geezer, I would be writing about in a witty and informative fashion. Sadly I'm not, so (or quite possibly because) I don't seem to be able to be arsed. But I have been and heard a top architecture journalist talk about his favourite band and some people with very nice singing voices in a rather interesting church.

The grand total

No only can I not update the blog, I couldn't even update the 'how much I have spent in supermarkets this month' widget.

But I have been keeping a tally, and the grand total for April was ....

£39.20

That's more than I was expecting (and hoping) but I suppose it's not bad really. I don't really have much idea of what it represents as a proportion of my total spending. Quite a lot of it (at least £10) was beer (2 x 3 for £5 in Sainsbury's) and some of it is accounted for by the fact that I've been working long days and the supermarkets are the only places open when I'm on the way home.

Oh! This is my 700th Chertsey post!

A sense of abandonment

Walking the Sheffield and Tinsley Canal (1)

This is the most abandoned stretch of canal I have seen that isn't actually abandoned. More so by far than the Coventry as it struggles into the city of that name; more even than the far flung outposts of the BCN, which at least has the BCN Society to love it.

I tried to find a Sheffield and Tinsley Canal Society, and failed. The South Yorkshire and Dukeries branch of the IWA apparently organised a clean-up only a couple of weeks ago, so I found myself, most unexpectedly, at the weekend, rejoining the IWA.

There were runners and cyclists and fishermen - in dribs and drabs rather than droves - but not a single moving boat until I got to the locks. And to be honest, I would think twice about negotiating this rubbish, rope and plastic bag strewn stretch even if I could.

This is a canal that feels unloved.

A walk and a ride

I went for a walk this morning. About five and a half miles in total, of which approximately half was new territory for me. This was somewhere I was supposed to visit in 2009, but never quite made it. I can't get there by that means any more (and indeed, not many people seem to be trying), but I finally got there on foot. Once I got there the sun shone for a bit, then I turned away from one attraction, and treated myself to a new means of transport to get part of the way home. I took some photos, but they're on my phone, and only Windows can get them off. I might have enough material to spin out for the best part of the week... Just from one little walk. And I've already got the next stage planned.

Need to know...

I've been asked for my personal 'Top Five Things You Need to Know About a Narrow Boat Holiday'.

I haven't really given it much thought yet, but I thought I would throw it open to you, as you're bound to come up with things I won't have thought of.

I do remember one good tip under the heading 'what should you take with you on a hire boat holiday' which was a breadknife, on the grounds that the one that comes with the boat will have been down the weedhatch so many times it'll be no good for slicing bread.

I'll start my list here and add to it as and when I think of things...

1. The weather is very unreliable. Bring a variety of clothes, waterproofs, and sunscreen.
2. Sensible shoes, with good wet grip on smooth surfaces and, ideally, waterproof.
3. The windlass goes on the spindle with the handle pointing outwards.
4. Don't bother bringing all those books you meant to read/that novel you're writing. Somehow, although nothing happens, there won't be any spare time.
5. Things will go wrong. Don't worry about it.