Books I read in January

It's time to resurrect the never-popular 'Books I Read In...' feature. January started with four books in as many days - nearly four in three days, in fact - such is the nature of a rainy New Year's Day.

Ian Rankin Rather Be The Devil
Reliably good latest Rebus novel. Can't say too much about it - it was my Christmas present to Jim and he hasn't read it yet!


Cathi Unsworth Without The Moon
Police procedural set in WW2. Didn't live up to the gushing cover quotes; rather dull.


Tim Footman Leonard Cohen: Hallejulah
2009 biography I suspect hastily reprinted. Much thinner in every sense than Sylvie Simmons exhaustive 2013 tome; more of an annotated discography. Occasionally slightly amusing, but you can't really respect someone who dismisses 'Sing Another Song Boys' and 'Closing Time' and instead raves about the insipid 'Bird on the Wire' and someone else's version of 'Hallejulah'.

Sabine Durrant Lie With Me
I finished the Cohen biography on the Thameslink, so I had to quickly find something at St Pancras for the rest of the journey, so grabbed this in Smiths. Pretty good psychological thriller; if I saw the ending coming a mile off it's probably only because I read far too much of this sort of stuff.

B A Paris Behind Closed Doors
Another psychological thriller. Good plot idea, but could have been handled so much better to create real credibility and suspense.

Trevor Yorke  Britain's Railway Architecture and Heritage
I saw this on the second-hand shelf in Sebastian's shop and demanded it for Christmas. He forgot, but I got it for new year. Lovely photos, very helpful drawings, and plenty of material for wistful longing - it taught me more about engineering and architecture in a few pages than many much longer books have ever managed. 

Liz Nugent Lying in Wait
Now this is much more like it on the psychological thriller front. Using multiple viewpoints to really good effect, complex, engaging characters, and a genuinely enexpected, but still credible ending. Excellent stuff.  

Scarlet Thomas The Seed Collectors
Cleverly written, occasionally funny but ultimately tediously weird family saga.

Ann Cleeves Too Good to be True
Essentially a short story (a 'quick read') which suffers from the same as all short detective stories - no time to do more than skim the surface of character and crime before wrapping it all up neatly.

Kerry Wilkinson Down Among the Dead Men
Competent, un-gripping Manchester gangland tale - no sympathy for, hence no involvement with any of the characters. The second book I've read this month that makes it seem implausibly easy to incapacitate a Very Dangerous Person by persuading them to drink whisky laced with ground up pills.


Susan Hill The Small Hand
Ghostly novella. Nice writing, but the plot did nothing for me.


Rose Tremain The American Lover and other stories
I used not to like short stories, until I took a course on them and tried to write a couple. Now I really appreciate the skill and the artistry required to create a perfect small sketch rather than a great sprawling canvas of a novel. And these are wonderful examples of the craft.


David Brookfield The Skillful Teacher
You may surmise - and you would be correct - that this was one book I wasn't reading for fun. Nonetheless, as far as the genre goes (and it goes pretty low) this was good - lots of useful practical ideas and hardly any pseudo-theory.  

Andrew Marr Children of the Master
Enjoyable political romp, runs out of steam a bit towards the end. 

M.J. Arlidge The Doll's House
Workaday, unthrilling thriller. 

Books I didn't read in January
Tom Bowyer Broken Vows: The Tragedy of Power
I was looking forward to this; no fan of Tony Blair, I was anticipated a well evidenced, forensic dissection of New Labour policy from this biographer with a reputation for mercilessly skewering his subjects. But it read like the worst kind of Daily Mail journalism, and I couldn't stand it.  

Eighty today

Today is Chertsey's eightieth birthday.

At least, January 29th, 1937 was the date recorded for her delivery to the Grand Union Canal Carrying Company, so she was probably finished a bit before then. The real date to celebrate would be the day she first got her bottom wet, but there's no way of ever knowing when that was.

I really liked the idea of holding a party to celebrate at Chertsey's new local, but the chances of getting enough people to trek out there on a freezing day in January seemed pretty minimal. So instead we - Chertsey and I - will hopefully have a joint bash six months hence, when I won't be eighty, but will be having a birthday of some sort, give or take a day or two.

Anyway, Chertsey will be getting lots of birthday treats over the course of the year - blacking, engine tweaking, and a trip to Walsall to name but a few. And, hopefully, a trip up the Ashby around late July.

It's a bit sad that she's spending her big day alone though. If anyone at Alvecote is reading this, nip round the back of the Barlow and give her a pat from me.

The joys of planning and the delights of anticipation

I am the sort of person who does like to plan things. Sometimes unexpected nice things happen, and when they do, that's great. But nice things happen far more often if you plan them and set about making them happen. I also like to plan because I'm not a massive fan of dealing with the unexpected. If it's bad, I like to be able to prepare for it, and if it's good, I like to be able to look forward to it.

Of course, a certain amount of planning goes into a boat trip - but that's mainly around deciding the route and making sure there's enough time available. Occasionally we'll co-ordinate meeting up with someone, but we tend not to have an itinerary of things to do and places to see en route because there isn't the spare time available (much as I like the idea in principle). And we generally tend to be travelling to an event which has already been planned and organised for us. Nonetheless, I have in the past been quite remiss in not making the most of opportunities to see and do interesting things, having been entirely concerned with getting there in one piece. Hopefully I can remedy that a bit on our putative summer trip up the Ashby, and also maybe at Easter, to an extent.

So I am very much enjoying planning my trip to Saltaire. It's easier, because there's only my time to consider (and my interests too!)  I have a date in mind not too far off, and am pulling a few ideas together of things to do when I get there...

Yes, it's destination number 167

I don't suppose that anyone who's interested needs this final clue.

My first Random Town visit will be - as Halfie correctly, but cryptically, surmised - to Saltaire, a Yorkshire mill town with a difference, on the Leeds-Liverpool Canal. I visited last July, on our works outing. Most of our time then was spent in the massive Salts Mill development, exploring its shops, galleries and cafes. I went for a little wander around the village (is it a town, or a model village?), which was quite an odd experience - I recall it as a small island of well ordered picture-box pretty stone houses (a three bedroom one will set you back a quarter of a million) surrounded by a sea of untidy, unruly deprivation - into which one had to venture to get anything as mundane as a bottle of coke and a bar of chocolate.

I believe - please correct me if I'm wrong - that the boat Saltaire is the only one of the large motor boats to exist in two halves - i.e. that there are two Saltaires. This is more common with the 'small' boats, and particularly of course with butties, where the stern end becomes the fore end of a new boat (although I can't off the top of my head think of any large GU butties this has happened to).

I shan't visit this weekend, as I need a bit of time to plan and think about it, and anyway, I have a stinking cold. But I shall go soon. I'm very much looking forward to it.

The Big Town Tour - first stop

As luck would have it, the first Big Town selected at random is within easy striking distance of Sheffield. I can get there in an hour and twenty minutes for £12.50 return - it'll probably be the cheapest trip of the tour. It has a unique and famous industrial history, and it's on a waterway - one I've not boated on and possibly never will.

 By amazing coincidence, I visited there last year - and for the explicit purpose of visiting too, not to do or buy anything, or to see anyone, but just to visit the place. It was well worth it too. I've checked, and I didn't blog about it at the time, so I could just cheat and post some of the photos from that visit (and I probably will, but honestly, because I have some nice ones, and it was sunny) but one thing I didn't see was the station. This one did fall victim to Beeching - but was resurrected nineteen years later. So next time I have a free weekend I'll go again. I wonder if these two things I didn't buy but wished I had will still be there.

 I thought £12 was a bit steep for an empty tin, but this seemed much better value. I was kicking myself even as I walked back to the coach for not grabbing it.

Of course you can guess where I'll be going... If not I'll post a really heavy clue tomorrow. The fates have been kind with their choice of first stop on my tour.

Touring the Towns

DG had his Random Boroughs, in which he picked a - guess what - random London borough from his special jam jar to visit and write about. His latest random visiting project is the 'Herbert Dip' - the fifty two putative boroughs originally recommended by the Herbert Commission in 1960. While DG takes his randomised journeys in and around London, he travels further afield pretty frequently too - today he writes about Middlesbrough, for example.

Now, I would like to see more of this country. Until fifteen or so years ago, I'd hardly seen any of it, isolated in the little corner of the south east that for so many people is England. Since then, thanks to a couple of jobs I've seen a few bits of West and South Yorkshire and Derbyshire, and thanks to boating, quite a few places strung out along the inland waterways. But there's more, so much more. I have never, for example, been to the Lake District (not that my proposed project will help with that), although I did once live in a Windermere Road.

I like railways. I am fascinated by the fact that the large Grand Union boats were apparently named after towns randomly selected from a railway gazetteer. I have often idly thought about visiting the stations of those places - and some of them are no longer active of course; some may not even still exist.

Yesterday I came back from Newport (Gwent) on the train, and instead of changing as I usually do at Bristol Parkway, I changed at Temple Meads - the first time I've been there. It looked like a very fine station and I was right down the end of the platform about to take a photo when my train came in. Whilst on the journey home, a thought began to form in my mind...

What if I set my favourite random number generator to pick a number between 101 and 186 (we'll stick with the motors for now) and plan to visit the town or station after which that boat was named. It might not be practical, of course, to visit, say, 115, 128 or 165 on a whim, but I could still research them and plan a fantasy trip. Plenty of others though would be a realistic weekend outing. Many of them are places I've already been (103, 105, 111, 112, 113, 116, 120, 121, 122, 143, 146, 148 (of course!), 156, 160, 163, 167, 168 (many times), and 175) but in many cases it was a flying visit and/or a long time ago. Most likely it wasn't by train, and I didn't photograph the station, let alone write it up for the blog. So any one of them would be worth a second visit, plus there's a nearly 80% chance of picking somewhere I've never been.

At the very least it will give me something to write about (you may have noticed there's been a dearth recently). I'm thinking that any visit and research would have a strongish railway focus, looking also at any waterways connections and industrial history. So once I've posted this, I will pick my first random Big Town (some of which of course are really quite small) and see where it takes me. There's a good chance it will be somewhere in England - seventy seven of them are - but it could be one of the seven in Scotland, or the one in Wales, or even the one in Northern Ireland.

So come back tomorrow to see where the Big Town Tour will take us first.

To put you out of your misery, a key to the mysterious numbers may be found here.

Rare archive footage...

Apologies to those of you (you know who you are) who read eighteen page CWF threads and will already have seen this...  Courtesy of David Gunby (of Barrow) - the Fuhrer proves to be surprisingly perceptive.

Back to the Black Country

Everyone's talking about their boating plans - it must be that time of year. It doesn't look as if there will be a big trip for us this year, for two reasons - firstly, whatever we do will have to be fitted round Chertsey's docking - both for blacking and for a look at the engine; and secondly, because I can't take big chunks of time off work for the foreseeable future. I seem to have acquired a lot more responsibilities (not that I'm complaining about the money that comes with them), including being responsible now for exams, including exam boards which very inconsiderately take place in June and August (I'm not too bothered about the February ones).

Having boated late into the year last year (finishing at the beginning of December, in contrast to the previous year), I'm now itching to get started as soon as possible this year. Easter seems like a good time to start, and we were planning to go to Ellesmere Port. A habit has grown up over the past decade or so that in addition to the regular Easter gathering at the Port, in alternate years HNBC organise an alternative, more southerly, gathering for people based further south. Thus 2014 saw us at Foxton, and 2012 Droitwich - we (that is, HNBC) usually try to tie this into an anniversary event, or campaign of some kind. In 2016 it was the Basingstoke, but because of the need to travel on the Thames, and the possibility that it might be too floody at Easter, we went in the summer. So, the HNBC alternative Easter Gatherings tend to be in even-numbered years. So I assumed there wouldn't be one in 2017, and thus planned to hit the Port for only the second time with Chertsey (I think we've been three or four times in all).

But it appears there has been a bit of a mix up, which I can't guarantee I've fully got to the bottom of, but this is what I've pieced together from what was announced at the HNBC November 'social'. The Boat Museum at Ellesmere Port are celebrating the fiftieth anniversary of their first gathering, or their fiftieth gathering, either this year, or next year. At some point, it was believed that this would be in 2018, so HNBC decided not to organise an even that would clash with it. They therefore organised an alternative event for 2017. It then turned out that the Boat Museum are having their celebration in 2017 as well. So we have the clash of Easter Gatherings that we set out to avoid. 

This leaves us faced with a difficult choice: should we go to the Port, as originally tentatively planned, or should we abandon them for the heady delights of Brownhills and Walsall. Well, we have decided on the latter, for a few reasons. The Port will still be there next year, and in future years (obviously, Brownhills and Walsall will be too, but the thought of company renders them a lot more attractive. We might even get to visit Walsall Art Gallery before it closes). Brownhills is nearer our Alvecote base, by quite a long way, meaning that we won't be so tight for time. Hopefully quite a few fellow-HNBCers will be going as well. We even hope to take a brief detour along the way to meet up with the Princess Lucies. And... we get to travel a new route, never previously traversed in Chertsey, not indeed by me - the dreaded (not least by Jim) Bottom Road.

The Garden Bridge

I don't know what all the fuss is about over the proposed, massively expensive, potentially doomed, Garden Bridge over the Thames.

It's already been done, at far less expense, on the Coventry Canal. Can't those metropolitan elites think of something original?

Back in time for a bit more boating

Following my celebration of a thousand Chertsey posts, I thought I's continue counting backwards in hundreds through the posts on my previous blog, Warrior.

So, at -100, we have a brief, unillustrated, record of a day I often recall, with some small degree of pride - the day I steered through Islington tunnel thirteen times. This, in July 2009, is surrounded by posts detailing the excitement of Chertsey's purchase, though none of them fell on the magical 100 mark.

2009 a top posting year, with 267 posts, so it's little wonder that they weren't all exciting. Thus at -200 we have a brief quizzical look at county councils' logos. (I am well aware that I mentioned a county council in yesterday's post.) I wouldn't even bother clicking on that one, to be honest.

So let's hurry on to post -300. This edges us back into 2008, and my brave attempt to create an advent calendar with a Christmas-themed quote for each of 24 randomly selected photos. This one in fact is worth a look - it represents one of my finest sand-sculptural hours (which actually took place in July 2007, my heavens, nearly a decade ago.)

Back to -400, and still no boating. This one sees me at a conference. Extraordinarily, it appears that Boris Johnson was there and gave a speech. And that I had been at an even where Ken Livingstone spoke the previous week. This is extraordinary because I have absolutely no memory of having seen wither of these performers live, and had you asked me, would have sworn I hadn't. It just goes to show how worthwhile it is keeping a blog.

Post -500 features the Bill Fen pumpout. Hooray, a popular boating theme at last. And in the comments Nev introduces us to the concept of 'poking the pyramid'. You may of course rather wish he hadn't. Of course we haven't got a pumpout any more, dumpthrough or otherwise, and neither has Warrior. And I have still never emptied a toilet. I was gearing up to, recently, but the boat was tied up in such a position that I couldn't have got it off and across the other four boats between me and the bank.

Hooray! Post -600 finally sees Warrior on its travels - we are in March, in August 2007, en route to the IWA National at St Ives. I heard the other year that the weeping willow we planted at Floods Ferry before we left in 2005 is no longer there. The cat who attached himself to us at about the same time is still around though.

A return to dullness with -700 - discussions of Warrior's paint, and the painting of the engine - but with no pictures. But I do remember how exciting it was - and how cold - painting Warrior's engine as it sat on a trailer inside a shipping container at Stretton. Warrior has been through a couple of different paint schemes since then, but I don't think the engine has. Ironically, of course, Chertsey's engine is the same colour, Quite possibly the only two engines that colour (muscat) on the entire waterways system, and we've had both of them.

Finally, post -800 (you will recall that there was a total of 859 posts on the Warrior blog). And it's... the start of the original rag rug that still sits on Chertsey's back cabin floor. Others have come and gone, but this first one, the heaviest and densest of them all, endures. I can't believe that it is now over ten years old. It's still doing a brilliant job.

And there we have it. More interesting posts are to be found either side of most of the featured ones, but if you set yourself arbitary parameters you just have to take what you're given.

Wetton muddy walk

I went for a walk with my Ramblers group today for the first time in ages - looking at my records, it appears not sinec June 19th! So a more gentle start might have been called for than twelve miles with lots of hills.

The description of the walk said: 'From Hartington, to Wolfscote Hill, cross the Dove, over Narrowdale Hill to Wetton. Walk north between Wetton Hills to Ecton Hill then back over fields to Hartington.' Which I guess is what we did. The interesting thing about this walk was that it was taking advantage of access land rather than sticking to footpaths. So we covered areas that many of even the most seasoned members hadn't previously walked, and for those who like to collect them (and there are such people of course, two of whom were on the walk), there were not one, but two trig points.  From my perspective, the focus on access land meant there were a lot of muddy fields. Oh, and did I mention the hills?

At the top of Wolfscote Hill, we were told that there were stunning views... on the day in September when the leader had recced the walk.

Down in the dale, things were prettier

This being the White Peak, there was lots of limestone (my direction of causality may be a bit awry there).

Lots of people like it, but I prefer the nearer, grittier, bleaker, and - significantly - less slippery Dark Peak.

The start point of the walk was a twenty five mile drive from Sheffield, but it was still slightly disconcerting as always to find ourselves on paths (we didn't avoid all of them) maintained by Staffordshire County Council.

Squared off

My first crochet project is finished! Seventy-two squares, begun in September and the last one finished on Christmas day, now all joined together, finished off round the edge, and heaven knows how many ends tucked in and knotted off.

And I must say I am pleased. It's not perfect by any means, but one thing I have discovered is that crochet (at least on this scale) is quite forgiving. It's certainly satisfying to have made something so large. I don't know what the next project will be. The ultimate aim is lace, but I don't think I'm ready for that yet. I need to find whatever is the next stage of working towards that. Whilst practising the melodeon too of course.

Hundreds and Thousands

Well, it's taken just over seven years to get here, but this is Chertsey's 1000th post!  Hooray! Throw the streamers and release the balloons!

I thought I would celebrate by looking back at every hundredth post since this blog started on January 1st 2010. And in order to maintain some semblance of suspense, I shall do so in reverse order, starting with post number 900, which, in some way appropriately, marked the tenth anniversary of starting my first blog, nbWarrior. This was posted on April 1st last year, and was post number 1,759. In it I hinted at exciting new developments to come, trailing what was to become my new Rivetcounter blog. If you want to know the simple reason why Rivetcounter never took off, it's this: I couldn't deal with the template. I could never get it to look or behave how I wanted it to, especially on iPads. So I stuck with the tried and tested, and very dated, ten year old Blogger template that I've been using ever since I started that Warrior blog. Rivetcounter has now become a repository for hostiong photos that I want to hotlink to Canalworld. Sad, in a way, especially as it's such a brilliant title and I couldn't believe it wasn't already taken. I believe Sebastian has snapped up the Wordpress equivalent too, just in case I should ever want to have another go. I am of course still trying, and still failing, to emulate the great Diamond Geezer.

The 800th post is also the first post in April - two years earlier. 2014 and 2015 were the thinnest posting years, and in fact 2015 evades having a commemorative hundredth post at all (2010, 11 and 12 have two apiece). This post, about the relative merits of different stoves, demonstrates a rather annoying occurrence: all the photos posted with Blogpress over the years have disappeared, so for more than one of these commemorative posts, you will have to exercise your imagination. This is where I raved about the Origo stove. It's still going strong, and it's still great. It must have paid for itself many times over since 2014 by making cooking a meal on the boat an easy alternative to going to the pub.

Post 700, in May 2013, saw us 'ready for the off' - ready to set off for Langley Mill for the start of an epic year's boating. I seem to recall that we had a great time there, with half the Holymoorside Brass Band in the hold. As for the trip to Watford, Jim has certainly never forgotten it. It is also responsible for Alan Fincher buying Flamingo, so he probably hasn't either.

Amazingly, the 600th post occurred exactly one year earlier, in May 2012. This was while we were living on Bakewell, and I garnered  a healthy eight comments by asking the good people out there to identify the non-flowering plants growing on the mooring. I now know what not to eat.

Number 500 sees us immersed in the machinations of the CRT elections, when CRT was still a novelty, in January 2012, and I was still the press secretary for HNBOC, which was still HNBOC. Willow gets a mention, as escapologist. He is still around, poncing off the little old ladies of Newhaven, and must be at least fourteen by now. Apart from the fighting injuries which he still regularly incurs, he's looking well on it.

For post 400, we're back in 2011, and we're in Burton-on-Trent enjoying a couple of pints in the Coopers' Tavern - Bass and Jaipur in my case. Now I must be getting old, because I eschew Jaipur these days because my head can't take it. Back then, Burton was only associated in my mind with beer - we had yet to meet two of the town's finest natives who have become brilliant friends, met not through boating, but through the new job that I was over a year away from getting.

Still in 2011, in January, post 300 found us hopefully - but nervously - anticipating our escape from Great Haywood, having found ourselves iced in for six weeks en route from Kings Bromley to Stretton, as we moved to our (then) new mooring, where we were to stay for over five years. Reading the subsequent posts reassures me that we did make it, although we had to contend with lock closures and fallen trees along the way. The post is actually mostly about getting cheap train tickets. I must admit that I have reached the point of complacent prosperity where I have begun to consider just getting an open return sometimes. As a bit of an aside, I've been doing a bit more driving lately on long journeys. I still can't make up my mind which is better. Driving, when it goes well, is certainly more convenient and capable of greater spontaneity. However, I can never quite shake off the feeling that I am doing something terribly dangerous and it can be quite nerve-racking. When it goes wrong, it can be cold and expensive, and often there's no toilet. Going by train requires more planning, and simply doesn't work for some places (e.g. Braunston). But when it goes well it is comfortable and hassle-free; when it goes wrong it is frustrating, sometimes worrying (being dumped at Doncaster station on a Sunday night to be told that the last replacement bus had gone without us), and sometimes there is no toilet. Rail travel goes wrong more often, but more mildly, than driving. And at least when it goes badly wrong you get a refund. So I think rail clinches it, in the end.

Back to Your Hundred Best Blogs. At number 200 - getting into the depths of history here - we have a disquisition on one of this blog's favourite themes: tea. It is clear from the way I bemoan the quality of bag-made tea here that I have not yet discovered Yorkshire Tea teabags. Give me a good teabag any day in preference to too few leaves crammed too tightly into a fancy little pot. In fact, as soon as I finish writing this I'm off to make a cuppa. We still have the big brown pot, maybe a little more battered now. I'm pleasantly surprised to see that the link to Mike's photos still works, and I've just spent a distracted few minutes looking at them... Lovely to have the memories of our first trip to Braunston, on which Mike was such a help with boating as well as chronicling the trip.

Finally, the 100th post sees us on our travels again - but on Warrior this time - a Fens break in the midst of restoration work on Chertsey in April 2010. We have visited the splendid antiques market at Ely and made a number of purchases.  I believe we did put some of that copper behind Warrior's stovepipe; Chertsey definitely sports some. That brass chain is still Chertsey's best chimney chain. The eiderdown, sadly, I no longer have. I gave it to my sister - I'm not actually sure she even really wanted it, but it seemed like a good idea at the time. The days of going at seven miles an hour are probably behind us too now.

Prior to starting the Chertsey blog, I'd already racked up 859 posts on nbWarrior, so perhaps I'll continue counting backwards through them. But that's for another time. Right now I have to go and watch West Ham get knocked out of the FA Cup, then I can stop thinking about it for another year.

Aber added

There are so many boats missing from the sticker album that I have seen at close quarters in the last few years, but either haven't photographed, or can't lay my hands on the photos. However, browsing my old iPad over Christmas, now in Jim's hands, I found a lovely one of Aber, which was apparently taken on June 17th 2012.

Hang on, who's this?

Oh yes, I have grandchildren. And they're really rather sweet.

Eloise (nearly seven) and Max (nearly three - their birthdays are on the same day in March). Might even get round to taking them boating this year. One at a time. With a parent.

Now, can anyone identify the 'sheet music'?

Wot no narrow boats?

Chertsey is on the National Historic Ships Register. This doesn't cost anything, and does, I am sure, lots of very good things, so I shouldn't complain. Quite a lot of narrow boats are registered, and I know some have benefited from the small grants that NHS awards for restoration projects. They also run an annual photo competition, which I have entered, on occasion.

Every year they send me a nice calendar, with a historic shippy picture for each month. This is my default kitchen wall calendar for the year. For at least the last three years, one month has been illustrated with a narrow boat picture - December, for the past two years, because I suppose you don't get too many photos of snow-covered ships out at sea, and, in 2014 October (or possibly September) was illustrated with my photo (fame!) of the launch of Walton. It didn't win or even get commended in the competition, but unexpectedly seeing it in the calendar was far more rewarding.

But this year... no narrow boat pictures at all. Perhaps no one sent one in. I will make sure that I, at least, do this year.

HAPPY NEW YEAR

Hooray! I managed my 100 posts for 2016.

Once I'm back in Sheffield I shall pick up again and try to better that in 2017, even as the world collapses about our ears. I shan't be sorry to say goodbye to 2016, a year in which many horrid things happened - but it will also be memorable for the wonderful summer trip down to Woking and up the Thames, so it wasn't all bad.

I should have plenty to write about next year... on the cards is docking, an Easter trip to Brownhills and Walsall, a birthday cruise up the Ashby, the decoration of the back cabin and of course the Braunston (non stop?!) and Alvecote gatherings - but no long trips. Let's hope that whatever unexpected things 2017 brings are nice ones.

So here's to a good road for everyone in 2017.

Hints for Historic Boaters no. 453*

Choose a face flannel in a dark colour, preferably grey or black. A white one will only make you feel worried.

Even after washing it in Persil.

*not an actual number,

Off to the seaside

This morning we are setting off for Sussex to do the family Christmas stuff. I am of course taking the melodeon with me, to seek advice and guidance from some actual musicians. I can now play the melody of 'Hard Working Boater' all the way through, so I hope they will be suitably impressed.

I will not be taking my crochet, because I shall be coming back on the train, and, excitingly, the crochet is now at the stage of being joined together in ever larger squares. In fact, I have half a bedspread hung ober the back of the sofa already! I finished the seventy-second and last individual square on Christmas Day. But no photos now until it's finished!

A new rivet for the collection

Well, I don't actually have a collection, but I could start one. In fact, I think this is my second (oh, apart from all the ones in Chertsey), so perhaps that does count as a collection now.

Damn, forgot the scale. The head is about 40mm diameter

Anyway, this one isn't from a boat. I found it whilst on a Boxing Day walk, and if, as I am pretty certain is the case, it fell directly from above onto the towpath, it is from the Wicker Viaduct (span 41), properly called the Sheffield Victoria Viaduct, and better known for the bulk of its construction, the Wicker Arches.

Constructed in 1848, the viaduct last carried passenger traffic in 1996 (and last carried mainline traffic, to the now defunct Victoria Station, in 1970) but still carries local freight. (info. source here)

Do you think I should report that rivets are dropping out of it?

Hot dog

When we moved Chertsey at the beginning of December, we were worried about Ricky getting cold (in the summer we worry about him getting hot; he has neither fur not fat for insulation). Because he won't let us out of his sight, he can't just stay inside in the warm like a sensible dog.

So one of us has to sit on the back end with him and make sure he keeps his blanket on:

In the summer, it's a wet tea towel.

But after we got back to Alvecote last time, we met a very similar dog wearing a rather natty fleece jumper. I immediately enquired where he got it. The answer was Equafleece (the website is well worth a look, for all the canine garments you could possibly want to buy, and many you wouldn't.) I decided to get Ricky one for Christmas. As anything and everything is a surprise to Ricky, it needed to be a surprise to Jim as well. So I sent Sebastian a link to the detailed instructions on the website, and asked him to secretly measure the dog. Not too hard a task, you might think... It was only as I started to input the figures into the site's calculator that I noticed that according to him, Ricky's neck was bigger than his chest...

Eventually we must have got the right measurements, because here is Ricky in his new jumper:

He has been quite glad of it in the recent chilly wind.  Unlike a coat, he can lie down in it comfortably, so will be able to wear it night and day if we do more winter boating - and can even have a coat on top if it's really cold.

Boxing Day

Hope everybody's having a splendid Christmas break. I think Jim and Ricky might be hoping for a bit of a break from my squeezing and squeaking...
Thank you for all your melodeon-related comments, questions and suggestions. In order...

Halfie... Can I play it? Well, it depends on what you mean by play. I have pleasantly surprised myself, not least by rediscovering that I can read music. Not necessarily quickly or fluently, but sufficiently to work things out, in conjunction with a button layout diagram from Melodeon.net, and a tuner app to find the low B I didn't know I had. Last Tuesday, when I took delivery of it, I worked my way through the melody of 'Poor Old Horse' (which is only a couple of lines, and doesn't have a low B, at least in the version I was using). On Friday, just before Jim arrived, I found the B and then started work on 'Hard Working Boater'. I am currently three quarters of the way through the melody; I hope to have it all fairly solid by Friday when we are going to see Sebastian and Izzi, so that they can advise me about adding chords and/or basses. I did try to find a teacher, but the only local one I could get contact details for didn't answer my email. For now I think I'm fairly happy just familiarising myself with it and working out my own fingerings, although I will no doubt form some terrible habits.

So, Cath... Playgroup sounds good, and I look to be free that weekend - are you going?

Alan... It's a German made D/G Pokerwork. I bought it without seeing it in the flesh, let alone trying it (because what would have been the point when I have no experience and no idea what feels good to me; I just knew I wanted something reasonable quality that I wouldn't be ashamed to be seen with, and the sort of music I like to listen to), sort of on impulse, albeit an impulse that had been brewing for some time, and really fermenting since the summer. So far I like it a lot; can't resist keep picking it up for another little practice.

The final impusle came about because of Bluebird breaking down... Before setting off, I'd put together a collection of randomly selected CDs for the journey, but had only just got into the second one when Bluebird refused to start. The change car that I came back in (Uxbridge) doesn't have a CD player, but rather than put the CDs away when I came back, I left them out to work my way through the selection. Thus two weekends ago, coincidentally just before the Herbies posted this, I found myself rediscovering this track, which is my inspiration and my aspiration. (It's from the 2011 June Tabor album Ashore but is actually just Andy Cutting with Tim Harries on double bass).  At least should I ever get to the stage of attempting it, I have my double bass player already lined up.

HAPPY CHRISTMAS

Christmas Box

I bought myself a Christmas present...

One that may be of particular interest to the Finchers and the Herbies...

Elfin safety (and that of other Christmas workers)

I'm afraid that this is a repeat, from Warrior in 2009, but I just reread it and it still made me laugh, so whether or not you have seen it before, I hope you enjoy it. Thanks as before to John Sheridan.

The Rocking Song
Little Jesus, sweetly sleep, do not stir;
We will lend a coat of fur,
We will rock you, rock you, rock you,
We will rock you, rock you, rock you:

Fur is no longer appropriate wear for small infants, both due to risk of allergy to animal fur, and for ethical reasons. Therefore faux fur, a nice cellular blanket or perhaps micro-fleece material should be considered a suitable alternative.

Please note, only persons who have been subject to a Criminal Records Bureau check and have enhanced clearance will be permitted to rock baby Jesus. Persons must carry their CRB disclosure with them at all times and be prepared to provide three forms of identification before rocking commences.

Jingle Bells
Dashing through the snow
In a one horse open sleigh
O'er the fields we go
Laughing all the way

A risk assessment must be submitted before an open sleigh is considered safe for members of the public to travel on. The risk assessment must also consider whether it is appropriate to use only one horse for such a venture, particularly if passengers are of larger proportions. Please note, permission must be gained from landowners before entering their fields. To avoid offending those not participating in celebrations, we would request that laughter is moderate only and not loud enough to be considered a noise nuisance.

While Shepherds Watched
While shepherds watched
Their flocks by night
All seated on the ground
The angel of the Lord came down
And glory shone around

The union of Shepherd's has complained that it breaches health and safety regulations to insist that shepherds watch their flocks without appropriate seating arrangements being provided, therefore benches, stools and orthopaedic chairs are now available. Shepherds have also requested that due to the inclement weather conditions at this time of year that they should watch their flocks via cctv cameras from centrally heated shepherd observation huts.
Please note, the angel of the lord is reminded that before shining his / her glory all around she / he must ascertain that all shepherds have been issued with glasses capable of filtering out the harmful effects of UVA, UVB and Glory.

Little Donkey
Little donkey, little donkey on the dusty road
Got to keep on plodding onwards with your precious load

The RSPCA have issued strict guidelines with regard to how heavy a load that a donkey of small stature is permitted to carry, also included in the guidelines is guidance regarding how often to feed the donkey and how many rest breaks are required over a four hour plodding period. Please note that due to the increased risk of pollution from the dusty road, Mary and Joseph are required to wear face masks to prevent inhalation of any airborne particles. The donkey has expressed his discomfort at being labelled 'little' and would prefer just to be simply referred to as Mr. Donkey. To comment upon his height or lack thereof may be considered an infringement of his equine* rights.

*I have pointed out to the relevant authorities that in fact Mr. Donkey is not eligible, as a donkey, to file a complaint under the equine rights policy, but should instead couch his claim in terms of asinine rights, which are clearly far more appropriate to his case.
We Three Kings
We three kings of Orient are
Bearing gifts we traverse afar
Field and fountain, moor and mountain
Following yonder star

Whilst the gift of gold is still considered acceptable - as it may be redeemed at a later date through such organisations as 'cash for gold' etc, gifts of frankincense and myrrh are not appropriate due to the potential risk of oils and fragrances causing allergic reactions. A suggested gift alternative would be to make a donation to a worthy cause in the recipients name or perhaps give a gift voucher.
We would not advise that the traversing kings rely on navigation by stars in order to reach their destinations and suggest the use of AA routefinder or satellite navigation, which will provide the quickest route and advice regarding fuel consumption. Please note as per the guidelines from the RSPCA for Mr Donkey, the camels carrying the three kings of Orient will require regular food and rest breaks. Facemasks for the three kings are also advisable due to the likelihood of dust from the camels hooves.

Rudolph the red nosed reindeer
Rudolph, the red-nosed reindeer
had a very shiny nose.
And if you ever saw him,
you would even say it glows.

You are advised that under the Equal Opportunities for All policy, it is inappropriate for persons to make comment with regard to the ruddiness of any part of Mr. R. Reindeer. Further to this, exclusion of Mr R Reindeer from the Reindeer Games will be considered discriminatory and disciplinary action will be taken against those found guilty of this offence. A full investigation will be implemented and sanctions - including suspension on full pay - will be considered whilst this investigation takes place.

A Sheffield scene

The fact that I went without posting for a while means that there are some nice photos sitting on my phone that I took with the intention of sharing, and then didn't get round to. This is partly exacerbated by the fact that the easiest way to get them from iPhone to computer seems to be to email them to myself, but every time I try to send an email from the phone, it sits in the outbox until I go into settings and turn the mail account off and then on again.

Anyway, here is a rather strikling photo of a bit of an old building on the Sheffield and Tinsley Canal, back on October 8th.

Hours of daylight

Not many, today, of course - seven hours and twenty-nine minutes here in Sheffield. Amazingly, a full twenty-eight minutes more down on the Sussex coast. What I've given up to come here!

I know this because of this rather nifty site which not only tells you the times of sunrise and sunset, and the hours of daylight on any given day in any place you care to mention, but represents it in lovely graphic form as well. It even accommodates the clocks changing. You may just need to scroll up to the top to reset it from Ghent to your home town or place of interest.

What it tells me, scrolling down, is that in the run up to Braunston, there will be a daily sixteen and three quarter hours of daylight (and that's not counting the dawn and twilight). Enough time to get from Alvecote to Braunston. Non-stop. I want to.

100 up?

Time once again for me to obsess about my blogging record. With just one post in November and two in October the blog was starting to look a bit moribund again - it was being mentioned by Diamond Geezer that spurred me on to make more of an effort. Even so, with only two posts last January, one in each of February and March, and none at all in May, it looked as if 2016 would turn out to be a lean year.  However, a flurry of posts about our fantastic summer trip in July and August, and then some more in August and September looking back, with photos, have unexpectedly brought the total up to ninety (counting this one) for the year so far. That's already ahead of both 2015 - which was truly pathetic, at forty four - and 2014 (79). It's not beyond the realms of possibility that I might just squeak into treble figures for the first time since 2013. Even if I don't find quite enough to say for that, at least we're on an upward trajectory again. Hooray - long may it last!

On a small southern river

Newhaven is a sad, downtrodden little town, with many sad, downtrodden people (although not so many, nor so downtrodden, as Walsall).

But whenever I visit, I am reminded that it also has the beach, the cliffs, and the river, and these are things of beauty, in their small unassuming way. Last time I was down, I took some photos of the river in the early morning sun.

 The Grade II listed former marine workshops, long empty, are now a University Technical College. The building has won awards, but sadly the construction photo gallery no longer seems to be available. However, there are these on the photographer's website.

 In the middle of the photo above, you can just see the semi-famous cormorant sculpture. Originally I think this was made of recycled tyres, but a new, metal, one was installed in 2012. There's a video about it here. As I may have mentioned previously, when I was on the Town Council, we had the task of naming a new block of flats built on the quayside. Someone suggested Cormorant Quays, in honour of the large seabirds that could sometimes be seen there. Murmurs of approval, then the local naturalist spoke up: 'Those aren't actually cormorants; they're black shags.' So I suggested we name the new block Black Shag Buildings.  They are now called Christchurch Court. I don't know why.

And here, looking upriver, you can see the swing bridge. This one was built in 1974, and extensively refurbished in 2015. However, from what I hear from No. 1 Son it still seems to be having problems. The 1974 bridge replaced an earlier one which also carried the gas main to the East Side of the river - this had to be disconnected whenever the bridge was opened. There are some fabulous old pictures here of the bridge and the harbour.

None shall pass

I paid Chertsey's licence yesterday. It's been due in December ever since we bought Bakewell, and someone at CRT did some very clever calculations to bring the licensing dates of the two boats into alignment. January 1st is a handy time to have a new licence start should I ever feel the need to buy a Gold licence, which always run from January 1st. Although having - fabulously - done (ok, some of)  the Thames last year, that won't be for a while yet. The downside, of course, is laying one's hands on nine hundred quid in the run up to the festive season, when there are so many competing demands on one's bank account (of which more, perhaps, later).

That's not what I'm writing to complain about though. (Of course I'm complaining about something!). No, I had to set up my online account with CRT in order to be able to pay on a Saturday (i.e. before I forgot, with the associated risk of losing the prompt payment discount). This looked like a simple and user-friendly process, but this was an illusion that took me round in ever decreasing circles for a while, before I finally got to the point of setting a password. CRT demands that your password contain upper case letters, lower case letters, numbers and at least one 'special character'. Therefore none of my existing ones would do, meaning that I now have another (long, complicated) one to remember - or, of course, write down. An impressive level of security just to stop anyone else paying my licence for me.

The fun didn't end there. I needed to complete a new licensing form because of having changed moorings. It asked for my date of birth. This wasn't marked with the red 'mandatory field' asterisk, but the form still wouldn't let me proceed until I'd completed it. I lied, of course (I'm not being that free with my identifying information on the internet). Which means there's yet another thing to remember. Why do they want to know anyway?

The fleet

For the last couple of weeks I've had a 'change car' as poor old Bluebird conked out en route to Sussex suffering from - we think - ignition module trouble. It was only after I Googled 'what does a ballast resistor do?' that I realised it had been showing the symptoms of being on the way out for weeks, had I but recognised them. As I not only had to get back to Sheffield, but the following week needed to do the car shuffle for getting Chertsey back to Alvecote, I came back in our newest acquisition. And I like it very much indeed.

On the way I set to recalling all the Volvos we've had since I fell in love with the first one on a local forecourt in 1999, and I came up with a total of eleven. They have always had names, which may seem daft, but of the current four, three are the same colour and two of those are the same model, so it does help.

The current fleet - from the foreground: Botterham, Sheffield, Bluebird, Uxbridge

I am a bit hazy on some of the technical details and specs, but Jim will no doubt be along to fill in the gaps. So here is the fleet list:

1. Trusty Volvo
Red, 240 saloon, 2.3 auto, C reg. £450 I think. 1999-c.2004. Scrapped; rotten underneath.

2. Rusty Volvo
Blue, 240 saloon, 2.3 manual. D-ish? Given to Jim by now long lost friends, one of whom drove it like a lunatic. 2000 ish; scrapped.

3. Thrusty Volvo
Silver, 960 estate. Turbo. Jersey registered, no idea what year. Also given by same people, who also drove it like a lunatic, with no water in it, for months. Eventually it succumbed.

Then there was also Crusty Volvo, which wasn't actually a Volvo at all, but a courtesy title for the 1974 Bedford CF Dormobile.

4. Snowball
White, 740 estate, H reg. One of the few we sold on. A bit too technically advanced for our liking.

5. Silver (aka The Flying Brick)
Silver, 240 estate, 2.3 manual. F reg, perhaps? Quite tatty looking but didn't half go. Sprung a water leak on the way to Stretton one time and ended up in Keith's scrap skip.

6. Bluebird
Blue, 240 saloon, 2.0 auto. F reg. 2005-present. Cost me £200. I miss the .3 though.

7. Fang
Dark grey, 240 estate. F reg. Ran this one for quite a while. Also ended up in Keith's skip I think; crankcase oil seal.

8. Tufty
Dark (non metallic) blue, 240 estate. A fairly basic model which we actually bought for its new headlights. Ran it for a bit but scrapped it when the heater stopped working.

9. Botterham
Blue, 740 Facelift estate, manual. H reg? 2012 - present

10. Sheffield
Red, 240 estate, 2.3 (I put manual but actually I think it's auto? Can't remember). K reg. 2014  - present

11. Uxbridge
Blue, 740 Facelift estate, auto. H reg. 2016 - present. And I might not give it back.

You'll see that we started with a series of rhyming names, then moved on to colour based ones. Tufty and Fang's names were derived from their registration numbers, and since the fortuitous find at Botterham, we've just called them after wherever they came from.

I hope I haven't made too many errors - there are bound to be some. I'm sure Jim and Halfie won't hesitate to correct them and fill in the gaps.

With relish

More than a year before I moved to Sheffield, Adrian and Linda, via the medium of Linda's splendid meat and potato pie and mushy peas, introduced me to Henderson's Relish. Sadly Blogpress has eaten my accompanying photos, so the moment is no longer pictorially commemorated. Later, when I moved to Sheffield, they gave me a bottle as a welcome gift. It was a 2012 commemorative Jessica Ennis gold label bottle, and I haven't finished it yet - I'm an appreciative, rather than a prolific, user. I have however bought numerous bottles over the years and there are few people who know me who haven't had the spicy fluid pressed upon them at some time.

Until 2013, Henderson's Relish was still produced in a little factory in the centre of Sheffield - pretty much opposite my office. A little, rather run down looking factory; an old industrial building clinging on in the midst of the University's ever-expanding, ever-larger, estate and for years, refusing to sell to the University even as it surrounded them.

This changed after the death of the long-time managing director in 2013, and production was finally moved out to a modern plant, still in Sheffield, but no longer in the heart of the city. And, inevitably, the University acquired the site, with a commitment to keep and restore the building. For a while, we thought they might convert it to offices - I would so have loved to have that address! But no, it seems that they plan to make it into a pub.

borrowed from WhatPub, I thought they wouldn't mind

The University - perhaps unusually - already owns a pub, the originally titled University Arms. This is a bit ersatz inside, but serves a good selection of beer, and some rather workaday food, in a nice Victorian (at a guess; it might be later) red brick building. This now probably will be knocked down, which is a bit sad. Anyway, as the 'campus master plan' proceeds apace, I thought it would be wise to grab a couple of pictures of the Henderson's works, before they get all glitzed up into a drinking shop that I bet you money will be called 'Hendo's'

Crocheting in the pub

An evening in the pub takes on a whole new purpose when you're historic boating in December - it's not for socialising, nor for getting drunk, but for for spanning the hours between dusk and bedtime with heat and light, and, if you're lucky, a comfy chair. The Greyhound thus established as my temporary living room, it seemed perfectly appropriate to to get out my crochet. This had the added advantage for me, if not for the landlord, of giving me something to do with my hands and thus drink less over the course of the evening than if I had just been chatting. I got two more squares finished in the Greyhound on Friday night, and a further two in the Barlow on the Saturday. We did also eat in both establishments. The Greyhound is usually good, but I can't recommend the gammon steak with melted brie and sweet chilli sauce - it was about as good as, in retrospect, it sounds, and left me feeling decidedly delicate the next day (and no, it wasn't the beer). The Cumberland pie in the Barlow, on the other hand, was divine. I had it on Saturday night, and Jim then had one for Sunday dinner, while I had the equally good roast beef, to set us up for our respective journeys home.

I have now completed fifty eight of the requisite seventy two squares, and soon will have to address the thorny question of how they are to be joined together.

Nice with no ice

The canal was frozen when I arrived at Braunston on Thursday morning; it froze again on Saturday night as we sat on the towpath at Alvecote. But inbetween, although chilly, there was no more ice. Even better, there was no wind, and no rain - so, for the time of year, pretty ideal boating conditions once again. This time I had Jim with me, as it didn't feel quite the right time to try tackling downhill locks single handed for the first time, and with Jim, of course, comes Ricky.

Jim could cope with the cold; I was more worried about his uninsulated companion. However, he managed fine, with a little help from whichever of us was dogsitting at the time.

He had his winter coat on underneath too

 

I went to Braunston first, lit the fire and (with Pete's help, sweet talking no longer working and my arms being slightly too short effectively to operate the start button and the decompressor silmultaneously; must do something about that) got the engine fired up. The plan had been to move the boat onto the towpath but we decided it would be easier to load luggage on Pete's mooring, moving across only to load man and dog. Once the fire was going and the cabin tidied, and Pete paid for his fabulous work, I drove over to Alvecote to meet Jim. It took longer than I'd expected - I don't know why, I've done it often enough - and we then had to wait a while for our lunch there. So it was later than I'd envisaged when we set off back to Braunston. Jim then got into an argument with the satnav that resulted in our travelling from Alvecote to Braunston via central Coventry, which was interesting. When we arrived, Ryan on Southern Cross was just about to tie up, and he came bearing cake, so we stopped for a cup of tea before finally departing. In one final communication breakdown, I winded the boat and got onto the Midland Chandler's mooring expecting Jim and Ricky to embark there, only to discover that they'd gone all the way round to the towpath, so a bit more reversing and wriggling was required before we finally set off with about an hour of daylight to spare.

There was still ice on the canal but it was already broken; by the morning it was almost entirely gone. On Friday we were at Hawkesbury by about three, and I made the executive decision to stop there and take advantage of the pub's light and heat for the hours between dusk and bedtime. This meant a bit more of a rush to get to Alvecote by Saturday night, but despite slow going through Atherstone we made it in time to stop on the towpath if not actually get into the marina. In fact this had always been my plan, as unloading the boat, clothing it up, and getting Ricky off would have been nigh on impossible once on the cheap and cheerful historic mooring behind the pub. As it turned out, there were four other boats there already, meaning Chertsey is once again adjacent to the slipway, but the boarding plank had by this stage metamorphosed back into a top plank, so the only way off was to climb across four joshers (Greyhound, Jaguar, Northolt and France, in case you were wondering. And not all facing the same way) Which I am getting quite good at, but Ricky isn't.

On the Turn

Before leaving Braunston, I took advantage of being on the offside bank to take a few pictures of an icy blue Braunston Turn.

I believe the scene is now subtly different...

Stepping up

Last weekend (well, starting on Thursday) Jim and I met at Alvecote for lunch, and then, leaving one car there, set off in the other to Braunston to collect Chertsey from Pete Boyce's.

You may recall that my initial inspiration, as we descended the GU with Renfrew, was to ask Pete to make a new step, closely followed by the idea of refitting the table cupboard. I then thought it would be good to have a nice piece of matching wood for the lower step, and finally, when I showed Pete the cabin, he suggested  a bit of trim and a fiddle rail to finish off the space above the table cupboard, which I did want to keep open.
Well, he had done me proud, as always (i.e. as with the front cant and breastpiece, gunnels, handrails and top planks, and not forgetting the cloths which despite their not being made of wood, he designed and sourced).

Here is my new steering step in gorgeous oak:

Sadly now already betrodden with mud and smuts. Just click to enlarge it and see that lovely chamfer.

Here is the lower step:

which no longer wobbles, thanks to Pete extending the bracket on which it sits.

And here is the table cupboard's newly neatened surroundings.

One of next year's must-do jobs is to paint the back cabin properly and finally.

Many thanks to Pete - if you need any woodwork done, I can't recommend him too highly.

PS. These are all Pete's photos too; of course I forgot to take any before actually treading all over it.

Mentioned in dispatches

This blog has been mentioned on Diamond Geezer! - as, I think, the 27th most prolific source of traffic to his blog. Much of which of course might be me clicking through every day, and which might also be you clicking through to read his usually interesting and always well-written posts.


DG sets the standard - in terms of both quantity and quality - that I aspire to, and give up in despair at how far I fall short of it.


Ah well, let's have another try, eh?

All by myself

I very briefly single-handed Chertsey a few years ago when Jim bought a Volvo at Botterham Lock on the S&W and drove it back to Stretton while I brought the boat. I did, however, have the back up of Adrian and Linda on Warrior, whom we were travelling with at the time, had I needed it. I did make a splendid turn into Autherley Junction, I recall, and there may even have been one or two people looking.

Nonetheless, it was with some excitement that I hatched a plan for a proper solo journey, back at the end of the summer trip. As we shared locks with Renfrew, I was suddenly inspired to ask Pete if he would make me a new steering step. When I got Chertsey, it had a nice solid wood step in, I think, elm, which extended as a shelf behind the stove. However, in the process of fitting the new Epping it was - ahem - damaged/adapted, and I was never happy with it after, so for the past five or six years I have been making do with a piece of rough wood with some lino stuck on the top. Then it occurred to me that I could get Pete to refit the table cupboard too, ooh, and maybe a new lower step (I don't have a coal box, just a plank between two brackets, which works well for me).

Pete made and fitted Chertsey's new front cant and breastpiece, gunnels,  handrails and back end beam,  top planks and cloths, and I have been extremely impressed with his work so once I'd had the idea there was no hesitating. I knew that if I was ever to start single-handing, there would be no better journey to begin with than Alvecote to Braunston: a familiar run, fourteen nice easy locks (yes, plus the stoplock) and all uphill, so I determined there and then to do it. This was back in early August, and the end of October, when Pete could fit it in, seemed an awfully long time away, and my biggest concern was that the weather would be cold and wet and, worst of all, windy. My second biggest concern was whether the engine would start for me, especially if it was cold.

I set off to Alvecote on Friday, arriving around lunchtime. First I lit the stove, then I set about clearing out the back cabin, taking down all the plates, lace, curtains and other fripperies, because at some point soon we are going to properly, finally, paint the back cabin. I also - after some thought - took down the cat containment partition.  I was in two minds beforehand as it made a handy bulkhead for hanging things on, and having the bed enclosed was quite nice, but it did make it difficult to impossible to slide around the table cupboard when it was open. Having taken it out I was pleased with the more open look.

On Saturday morning I got of to a slowish start, finally leaving at ten. I needn't have worried about the engine - I talked sweetly to it, attended to all its little needs, and it started FIRST TIME which hardly ever happens. The trouble is that having repeated this feat three times now, I will always have to talk to the engine before starting it (and thanking it afterwards, of course). I backed all the way across the marina (I had backed in following a brief trip the other week with some work friends, but ended up turning round and eventually going in front first after all) then headed out onto the Coventry Canal. I might as well say at this point (non-spoiler alert) that there were no disasters whatsoever on this trip. The weather was damp and mild and there was hardly anyone else around; conditions were pretty much perfect. Every time I went under a tree, the exhaust dislodged great clouds of leaves like confetti. The boat was soon covered with them. I made myself some sandwiches before I set off; I had the kettle within reach on the stove and teabags and milk to hand. It all felt pretty idyllic - I could not have imagined that even better was yet to come - but that's for another day.

It was about lunchtime when I arrived at the bottom of Atherstone locks (foolishly, I have left the comprehensive log on the boat). Of the fifteen locks on the trip, all but two were against me - one in the middle of Atherstone, where I met a single hander coming the other way, and one at Hillmorton. But it was no extra trouble really.  Everyone has their own technique for single handing locks, although with a big Woolwich you don't get many options. What I did was to go in slowly and out of gear and step off as I passed the appropriate point, taking the back end line with me. The rope is primarily because of the times the boat starts to drift back out of the lock, usually once I've got one of the gates shut. But having taken it I also used it to strap the boat in, meaning no bumps! The Atherstone locks are lovely and gentle, no banging about even when you open the paddles all at once, so that's what I did. The other thing to look out for here is the front fender going under the handrail, which it will do on nearly all of these locks, so I always stood by holding the fore end rope to hold it away. At Hillmorton, I noticed, the opposite happened and the boat drifted to the back of the locks as they filled. Where the locks are close enough together I'd open the top gate, then go and get the next one ready, then come back and shut it once in the next one up. I also had some success stopping with the stern end in the mouth of the lock and using the stern end line to make sure it didnt run away while I shut the gate. Which I was very good about doing.  So, I did eight locks on my own in this fashion, and then noticed that someone had caught up with me. But they had a boatload of Boy Scouts behind them, so they commandeered a couple to come and help me. This was actually quite welcome as the top two locks have quite a gap to step across to get off at the bottom. I was also able to practice being pleasant to people, and I gave them a big bag of popcorn which we'd bought in the summer and never quite felt like eating. In all it took me three hours and twenty minutes to do the Atherstone locks - probably about twice as long as with a crew - but I was very pleased that it had all gone so smoothly. I didn't carry on much further, and stopped for the night on the outskirts of Mancetter.

The next morning, Sunday, I left at eight - that's Greenwich Mean Time; back on Real Time, hooray!! The weather was similar to Saturday and I just kept chugging on, quite slowly on the shallow Cov. At some point the boat that was behind me at the locks caught me up, and I let them by - when you're on your own it's not always convenient having another boat right behind you as sometimes on a nice straight bit you want to slow right down and quickly nip into the back cabin to tend the fire or something. I got to Hawkesbury around lunchtime, made an average turn (touched the bank gently but didn't get tangled in the bridgehole, and bonus marks for there being a day boat moored in front of the pub). Passed the boat I'd let by, who had stopped for lunch, and just kept on going. With being back on Real Time the clock no longer lied about the fact that the light started fading around four. By the time I got to the swing bridge at Brinklow, Black Sheep had caught me up again, and we both stopped around four thirty, just before the cuttings start. I chatted with him for a while, and then it was really dark, so I went back, cooked some tea on the stove, ate, washed, and went to bed at seven! I fell asleep too, although I did wake up between midnight and three am, which was just as well for the stove.

I was up again at six thirty and ready to go again at eight. Monday morning was misty with the sun big and white behind the cloud - a truly beautiful morning. Again I hardly met anyone. By lunchtime the mist was clearing and by the time I got to Hillmorton the sun was so hot I stripped down to a single t-shirt. Hillmorton was a pleasure, with one boat coming the other way but other than that completely deserted. And so on I went, on the final stretch now and with a lot more water underneath the boat than on the Cov I could wind it up a bit. At one point I saw a big Woolwich coming the other way, and sure enough it was Aldgate. I'd hoped to catch Nick at Hillmorton, because I had some curtains to give him (arranged at the Alvecote do at the end of August). I swiftly dipped down into the cabin and retrieved the bag from the side bed. I wasn't sure whether I'd be able to hand it to him, and made a split second decision to throw it into his hold instead, but did it left handed and a bit halfheartedly, so it bounced on the gunnel before falling... on the inside. And that was the nearest I came to a disaster all trip.

I am sorry there is only one photo of the whole trip

The sun beat down as I wound the last few miles to Braunston, and long strings of spider silk floated across the canal and trailed from the boat, which was covered in leaves, and it was all magical, and perfect. I got to Braunston Turn at ten to three and tied up next to Rat (so I can be the target for the hire boats coming out of the Turn for the next few weeks). Pete made me a cup of tea and showed me the work he's doing on Clent and James Loader, as well as some very large pieces of oak, then we went and talked about the work he's going to do on Chertsey. I had a final tidy up then we went and had a late lunch/early tea in the Boat House, and Pete then very kindly gave me a lift all the way back to Alvecote. I had a fantastic run back to Sheffield, and thus ended an utterly perfect boating weekend.