Holiday cakes

It's a bit of a tradition in our office to bring back edible treats from one's holiday. This we have enjoyed, this year, salted liquorice from Denmark, 'wine biscuits' from Greece, chocolately Frenck biscuits and a variety of fudge and shortbread from those holidaying in the UK.

I, on the other hand, would normally bring back pork scratchings (not universally popular) or Staffordshire oatcakes which, with the best will in the world, unless expertly handled and filled with something greasy and tasty, bear too close a resemblance to damp cardboard to really be considered a treat. But at least the Black Country has regional delicacies. I was completely stumped as to what I could possibly supply that would be redolent of Woking.

A quick Google, spreading the net a little wider to encompass the whole of Surrey, however, provided inspiration, in the form of Maids of Honour, also known as Richmond Maids of Honour, reputedly enjoyed by Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn at Richmond Palace and Hampton Court. Well, we boated past Hampton Court, and here we are going under Richmond Bridge, 

Photo: Pete Boyce

so that is the treat I am taking in tomorrow to help keep people's strength up as the new cohort of students arrives.

There are lots of different recipes (and different stories) but I plumped for this one from Clarissa Dickson Wright, although I used shredless marmalade as I couldn't get quince jelly. The pastry is absolutely sublime - I shall be using it for my mince pies this year. Now all I have to do is get them to the office without crumbling.

Crochet progress

Having successfully managed something approximating to a square with one colour, chunky wool and a big hook, I went out and bought some DK in three different coulors, and settled down with a 4mm hook. So far I have made three tri-coloured squares, each neater - but also smaller - than the last. That's the first one at the top, the second on the left and the last on the right, but the perspective's a bit squiffy. If I can stop the increasing tension here, that will be perfect, as the last square is bang on 6". That means I will need 72 of them to make a blanked to cover the top of the crossbed (or go under the mattress). The current plan is to stick with just these two designs of square, and join them with cream, although that might alter.

So, crochet away!

A weekend in Woking

Here are a few photos to give an impression of the Woking gathering

A long plank was vital...

Handrails optional..

Hooked!

Look.

After decades of failure and frustration, I can crochet.

With the invaluable help of How to Crochet: A Complete Guide for Absolute Beginners by Alison McNicol, the encouragement of Cath Fincher, and a great deal of brow-furrowing and trial and error.

My project this winter is a cross bed blanket. I feel I am now sufficiently competent that I can go and buy the wool.

Timber!

And how.

One of the high spots of the rally weekend - certainly judging by the number of photographers present - was the loading of a considerable quantity (my memory for figures lets me down here as usual but it was somewhere between four and eight tons) of timber into Renfrew. And not the sort of timber you get in Travis Perkins; no this was entire oak trees, cut into 2, 3 and 4 inch thick planks.

Pete, seen here inspecting - or possibly simply appreciating - his purchases, is in the process of restoring, among other wooden narrow boats, Lucy. Lucy was the last boat built by Nursers at Braunston, for Barlows. Lucy was sold on to Blue Line in the 1960s and was paired with Renfrew, and they were on the 'Jam 'Ole' - generally recognised as being the very last regular long distance carrying contract, which ended in 1970. The wood will be seasoned for a couple of years before being used - but the goal is to have Lucy ready for the fiftieth Jam 'Ole anniversary.

Fittingly, the loading took place at the site of a former timber wharf, although the consignment arrived by lorry to what was now a towpathside playground. Very impressively, the hiab was operated via a wireless remote control unit worn over the driver's shoulder - you can just see it here - he's the (terribly young looking) chap on the right.

Pete had to do endless risk assessments etc. before the council would let him load there, hence the hard hats and hi-vis jackets. There was also miles of plastic tape keeping us at a safe distance. Meanwhile the hiab operator and his helpers didn't have to bother with any of that.

Andrew from the Narrow Boat Trust made this video of the operation:

While this was going on - which was on the Saturday morning - Sue from HNBC must have been doing her rounds of the boats at the rally site, because although there's an article with photos about the loading, Renfrew wasn't on the list of those boats present.

Once all the planks were in, Renfrew's crossplanks and chains were replaced, leading a passer by to ask, a few days later, how the timber had been got underneath them. He almost convinced himself that it had.

The Patent Droitwich Funnel

Or, Jim's moment of glory.

Back in 2012, when HNBC had its Easter gathering at Droitwich, we (for Jim and I were both on the committee at the time) had to make a number of arrangements, including providing elsan emptying facilities. So a holding tank was ordered and set up. However, it was found that the hole in the top of the tank was rather small, and the top of the tank itself a bit high off the ground, to make the task of emptying one's receptacle easy or convenient - especially for those who favour the more traditional design of engine 'ole facility. Jim's contribution - welcomed by a grateful multitude - was to find a traffic cone and cut the top end off to make a giant funnel. A ladder was also procured, and while emptying the bog was still quite difficult, it was no longer as risky.

Imagine my delight, then, to see the the Patent Droitwich Funnel was once again being deployed at Woking.

The appalling photo quality is because I took it on my phone. From a safe distance.

Gauging interest

On Friday August 5th we finally progressed onto the Basingstoke Canal. In this photo, taken by Jim of the Narrow Boat Trust, you can see the gauge that was used to ensure that boats would be able to get over the delicate wooden cill of the bottom lock.

It's simple and ingenious - sunk beneath the surface of the water is a metal frame, constructed to the same depth as the cill. The white floats support its top level with the water surface. The boat goes over the gauge, and if it's too deep, it will pull the floats down below the surface. As far as I know, all the boats which came through got over it successfully - although the NBT might have had to offload some coal first.

Volunteers from the Basingstoke Canal Society, working in conjunction with the Basingstoke Canal Authority, organised things and helped us up the first lock. We then had another five locks to ascend, in partnership with another boat that we'd been paired up with. This would have been an easier task if not for the fact that the boats going up ahead of us were leaving the top gates open behind them. I was not impressed, but typically only moaned to third parties rather than the people actually responsible. I did hear one of them say later that they thought it would be OK because they thought the NBT were behind them!

To get to our festival mooring, first of all we had to go and wind. This proved interesting. The history of ownership of the Basingstoke Canal is to say the least interesting (as we discovered at a quite entertaining talk on the first evening) and there are parts of it where the BCA does not own the bank. This includes the winding hole. A housing estate has been built on the bank here and the developers have taken the gardens right up to the edge of the water, with residents' plant pots overhanging. In addition, the winding hole has not been very well designed, with the protective timber baulking at the wrong height.

Knowing nothing of this, we toodled up, and (fortunately) winded very slowly and gently, putting the stempost into the bank as usual, and managing for once to do it very gently. We noticed the residents watching us, and one of them was on the phone, but we thought nothing of it. Until, that it, we got back and tied up and found that the BCA had been phoning other boaters who had winded earlier, telling them that there had been complaints and that they had damaged the winding hole. This was roundly denied by all concerned. I also got a phone call, but I didn't answer it. There was an email waiting for me when I got home, but by then it had blown over. At the time though there was a lot of fuss, with the BCA wanting to give our details to the residents (we refused) and muttering about insurance claims and demanding apologies. I think they simply had never seen the winding hole used by a full length boat before.

The HNBC Chair, Phil, smoothed things over far more diplomatically than I would have done, and one upshot was that any boats using the winding hole in future had to deploy a man on the bank dangling a tyre on a rope to protect its delicate fabric from those nasty historic fore ends.

This Wey Up

On the evening of Thursday August 6th, we decided that we had better set off and get a couple of locks under our belts as we needed to be on the Basingstoke at ten the next day.

So we had a pleasant couple of hours crusing up the river, then another half hour finding somewhere deep enough to tie up, ready for the final ascent in the morning.

Four navigation authorities in one day

I wonder how many routes make that possible - or even more. With planning and a longer day, we could probably have made it five on this trip.

On Monday August 1st, we left the bottom of Hanwell at eight o'clock. At twenty past nine we were on the visitor moorings at Brentford waiting for our passage through the lock. 

Jim and Pete took advantage of this to go off and empty the toilets, while I very nearly managed to lock myself in the facilities block.

At ten thirty we were through the gauging lock...

And at quarter to one we left CRT waters and were on the Port of London Authority tidal Thames.

Through Richmond bridge and over the weir

We arrived at Teddington around two,

and our hosts were then the Environment Agency.

We made it to Weybridge dead on half past five, 

in time for the last locking up onto the Wey, and tied up on National Trust water at six o'clock.

A few more hours would have taken us to the Basingstoke Canal and a fifth navigation authority, but for us that had to wait a few more days.

Can anyone suggest other trips taking in as many or more different navigation authorities in a space of, say, twelve hours?

Unicorns (continued)

And I wept for the wild and dirty world
To which this beauty now was lost
And cursed the hungry mind of man
That feeds the future at such cost


Bill Caddick, 'Unicorns' (2002)


It does call to mind both Rolt and Blagrove, doesn't it.

Breasting up

First some gratuitous photos of two Grand Union boats going breasted up into a Grand Union lock.

This was Seabrook bottom lock, and clearly we were breasted up for the flight of three. Often we did this just because it made it easier to position the boats in the lock, rather than one coming in first and trying to stay against the side while the other one came in, but in this case I'd clearly also got off to do some work. This was July 29th, our first full day of travelling with Renfrew and I am amazed, going back and counting, to see that we did twenty-six locks that day. I know that's not necessarily a vast number, but the seventeen narrow ones we did on our final day with Renfrew felt like a lot more (especially to Jim, I suspect). But then, two boats and four people in a big lock is less work than one boat with two people in a small one, because you have a spare person, and company.

We did quite a lot of breasting up and singling out over the course of the trip. We took the boats up Marsworth together very successfully, with me setting ahead; we tried the same thing less successfully coming down Hanwell.  Once again the boats were tied together with Pete steering, Jim and Irene worked the locks, and I went ahead to get them ready. I was nearly at the bottom of the flight when I noticed there was a lot of water coming down. I wondered whether I should go and investigate but didn't want to be running backwards and forwards so finished my task and got the last lock ready before turning back.  It transpired that one of the gates hadn't opened completely and the boats had got stuck on the way out. An attempt to flush them out - which accounted for the water - had only succeeded in lifting them up to stick higher, tipped in towards each other. Somehow - involving Pete having a self taught crash course in Chertsey's controls - by dint of serious reversing of both boats they were pulled back into the lock, and I arrived just in time to see them starting to come out singly while Irene trudged off up the flight to replace the water in the pound above. So it wasn't all plain sailing, even on the GU.

We did a fair bit of breasting up on the Thames as well, on our way back. Often coming to a lock it would have been greedy to hog 144' of landing stage so we tended to tie up to each other, and then it was easiest to go into the lock together and only have one set of ropes to worry about. Here we are doing that at Chertsey (I don't think I took photos at any other Thames locks).

Although we parted company with Renfrew on arrival at Weybridge as they were booked up the Basingstoke on the Tuesday, and us not until the Friday, by a fortuitous quirk of organisational breakdown, we ended up tied next to them for the duration of the festival. Thus when we finally parted company over a week later it felt quite odd to be without our (non identical) twin.

Incidentally, having finished Bread Upon The Waters last night,  I have spent a lot of today reading The Quiet Waters By. At the same time, listening to June Tabor singing 'Unicorns' had me in unexpected tears - common themes of elegy and loss and yearning - which were not just for the loss of the distant (to me) past which I will never know; nor just that of the author of those books whose young self springs so vividly from the pages, but also for the much more recent past, which is no more capable of being recaptured than that of fifty years ago, for the end of the summer, and some of the best boating I have known.

Scrapping

Having sorted the photographs out, I moved on to cataloguing the rest of my accumulated Chertsey paraphernalia; a long overdue task.

I now have two lever arch files, each with its contents safely stored and ordered in plastic wallets - one is of Chertsey's history prior to my ownership, including copies (and originals where I have them) of all the photos, along with records of maintenance, work done and major purchases; the second is a record of trips made and events attended, including copies of the log and souvenirs like rally programmes and licences. I was quite surprised to be reminded of just how much boating we did in some previous years, especially as Chertsey was nowhere near as commodious then as she has since become.

Additionally, I still worry about Google not paying their electricity bill - or, it occurred to me suddenly the other morning, taking it into their little corporate heads to start charging for their services - so I investigated the possibilities of turning the blog into PDFs that I could keep and even print. I found BlogBooker which seems to do the job very well, and this helpful guide to using it. With the free version you can only do four years worth of blog every six months, but I'll take the chance on Google lasting that long. I've now got PDFs of 2010, 2011, 2012 and 2013. In the spring I'll do the rest. I would like to get round to printing them, but 2010 (albeit that was the year I blogged nearly every day) amounts to over 400 pages. I wonder how many words I've written over the years; a few books' worth, I've no doubt.

One thing I did notice in the process is that some of the photos on the blog have disappeared, and I suspect that these are the ones uploaded using Blogpress while it still worked. I can only guess that these were hosted somewhere different from the ones uploaded directly to Blogger, and that this has since ceased to exist or the links have been broken. It's frustrating, but thankfully only applies to a small minority of the photos.

Talking of books, at Alvecote I had another excellent and keenly priced selection from the Chesterfield Canal Society stall: David Bolton, Race Against Time; Vivian Bird, By Lock and Pound; Roger Squires, Canals Revived, David Owen, Water Rallies, and P.A.L. Vine's volumes on the waterwats of East and West Sussex, which Jim has taken back to East Sussex to peruse.

I have finished Race Against Time, which is a very readable account of the establishment and campaigns of the IWA - and its internal politics, horribly familiar to anyone who's been involved with a voluntary and/or campaigning organisation.

After that I was moved to re-read David Blagrove's Bread Upon The Waters for the third or fourth time. It really is very good; easily as eloquent and elegaic as Rolt, with a more likeable author, and also with funny bits, which Rolt certainly does not offer.

Chertsey at Chertsey

At last we have had the opportunity to take Chertsey to Chertsey  - on August 9th, the day after we left Woking.

Quite serendipitously, from the point of view of messing around taking photos, of all the Thames locks we went through (oh, except for one early in the morning), this was the only one that was unmanned.

I quite often get people noticing the boat's name and asking 'Do you come from Chertsey, then?', which is of course an opportunity for a potted history of the ambitious expansion of the Grand Union fleet, until their eyes glaze over or they're out of earshot, whichever happens first. But I was struck on this trip by people saying 'Oooh, you're a long way from home.'  Well, yes - but I was in Chertsey only four days ago, so not that far really.

Anyway, it was lovely to get the photo opportunity at last.

How fate was sealed

This event is the stuff of legend, but until randomly browsing today, looking for something entirely different, I had no idea that the occasion had been pictorially comemmorated. It is 11.03 on Friday June 26th 2009. Warrior is tied up part way up the Braunston locks (probably in the Nelson pound) in preparation for the rally. I am on Warrior - that's its headlamp bottom right. Along comes a rather lovely looking josher so out comes my camera (Petrel, I always think, is a lovely advert for twenty+ years of annual varnishing).

Jim however, is out on the towpath, and at the lock he gets chatting to the steerer - who is not attending the rally, but making haste to escape its clutches. As he tells it, the conversation goes something like this.
Jim: That's a lovely boat. Be no good for my missus though, she only wants a big Woolwich. Can't find one though. Looked at loads, none of them are any good...
Duncan (for it is he): I know where there's one. (hands over slip of paper) Ring this number.
Jim: (heart sinks).

And Duncan steers Petrel off, little knowing what he has set in train.

Croxley Script

Posting that photo of Chertsey being unloaded at Croxley Mill in 1970 leads me back to the recent trip, and an earlier post, and some wonderful photos sent to me five years ago which I don't think I ever posted... If only I had had a good look at them beforehand, I could have tried to recreate the angles. Anyway, here are three more photos that dg sent me back in 2011, taken I believe, by his dad. They show a pair of Willow Wren boats, Grebe and Wagtail (which the internet - I can't currently lay my hands upon Bread Upon the Waters - leads me to believe were FMC Antelope and Freda) approaching, in, and leaving what is captioned as 'Croxley' lock - formally called, at least now it seems, Common Moor.

Aren't they fabulous?


And here are Chertsey and Renfrew in the same lock on July 30th

This is the nearest to a direct comparison, with the middle one of dg's pictures.

Surprisingly, very little seems to have changed - other than a bloody great paper mill having disappeared.

One for the album

Inspired by my recent re-bonding with Chertsey, and in time for this weekend at Alvecote, I have finally finished compiling a new information sheet (twice as long as the old one and also available as a flier!) and photograph album. One of the reasons for producing it as a flier is so that people can take away my email address and send my any nice action shots they've taken of Chertsey on its travels. So often you see people snapping away - sometimes they even ask! - but by the time you've had a conversation and written down the email address the you're probably out of earshot. So if you've taken any nice photos of Chertsey.... my email address is the URL of the blog less the www. and the .blogspot.co.uk and plus @gmail.com.

Over the years I've had Chertsey (seven now and counting) I have acquired some very nice photos. Many of these however came with the proviso that they not be put on the web, and some that they not be publicly displayed. Hence I have compiled an album for sharing privately (on request) which has the added advantage that I can include more pictures and put them in chronological order, providing a kind of narrative of Chertsey's life.

Looking back through the photos though I found this one that I really love, which I am allowed to share, taken by Richard Pearson of Chertsey loading coal at Gopsall Wharf on August 18th 1970

And this one, of the same coal being unloaded at Croxley Mill a few days later.

I'd still really like to recreate this journey one day.

Woking 2016: The Illustrated Edition incorporating Pub of the Trip

Why this customer thinks the Nelson is the best pub on the cut

However, there are a few more contenders. Not many - this was a trip where we largely fended for ourselves, with serious on board supplies of food and beer. There are therefore just six nominees, and that's including the festival beer tent. In order of visiting they are:

The Samuel Barlow, Alvecote Marina
Always decent food and usually good service, but (special events apart) a limited choice of beer and not a great atmosphere - maybe as good as you could get in a big square room dominated by a close knit group of regulars. It was a good venue for my early birthday dinner though, as we had our own little group. Very dog friendly, and the steak was excellent value as always. Solid and reliable, but somehow for all that, not a favourite.

The Admiral Nelson, Braunston
Still seems to be keeping up its form - the latest revival must have lasted what, four or five years by now? Sadly we arrived there on a Monday, meaning that the full menu - quite understandably - wasn't available. The bar menu is perfectly good, although the charm of serving chips in miniature chip baskets and fish on ersatz newspaper is starting to pall a little. Mega super dog friendly; good beer, nice environment, so this one is still a favourite, and a regular stop.

The Old Crown, Weybridge

Four pounds thirty five, thank you very much. OK, it hasn't got any nasty froth on the top, but all the same. Weybridge is another world. Also in the Old Crown, we had steak and chips. And that was exactly what arrived on the plate. A piece of steak. And some chips. No peas, no onion rings, no tomato, no mushrooms, not even a salad garnish. It won't be giving too much away to say that this one comes at the bottom of the list.

Thurston Brewery Festival Bar
At three pounds a pint you can't knock it, so I won't. One nice flavoursome beer (Invader) which was alternately on and off with one less flavoursome one. Also a porter for those as likes that sort of thing. The head brewer was there serving and told me something interesting which I hadn't heard before, but which sounded plausible - that IPAs aren't supposed to be really hoppy. His take was that the problem with the long sea journey wasn't with the beer going off, as most beers then were matured for a year anyway, but with the flavour of the hops fading, hence the addition of lots, so that it would still taste normal when it arrived, rather than extra hoppy. I accepted his explanation, but added that I like it hoppy anyway. But not grapefruity or elderflowery.

The pub at Iffley lock (on the Thames near Oxford)

The rather useful Perfect Pint app told me that this was in fact called the Isis Farmhouse, which enabled me to check out its opening times (very specific) and dog friendliness (fine), but no one seems to know it as that. We turned up on a Friday which excitingly promised to be a folk night although that side of things was a little half-hearted.

I didn't garner much of the place's history, but it seems to be one of those places that's hard to keep going, largely because it has no road access. A few people (including most of the musicians) arrived by boat, and many more on bikes. In appearance, the place is best described as resembling - well, no, in fact being - a big dilapidated house, furnished with various old bits of furniture, stuffed animal, garden furniture and very tatty soft furnishings.

The ceiling is half painted; the carpet comes to an abrupt halt in unexpected places, and the walls are mostly bare plaster. One barrel of very local beer is available at a time. The menu includes beans on toast, ploughmans, and pork pies as well as a couple of more adventurous offerings. I had a pork pie, and it was excellent, and accompanied by home made bread, the freshest salad and a lovely home made coleslaw.

The Greyhound, Hawkesbury Junction
Another longstanding favourite, a canal pub that somehow manages to retain a tiny bit of a sense of  history and mystique (for all the Nelson's virtues, it sadly doesn't). We arrived early accepting that we would stand around for a while waiting for a vacant table outside in the sun, and our patience was rewarded. Ever reliable for Bass (which I find a bit sweet now) and something Robinson's quite nice and not too strong for me. The mixed grill caused no complaints (especially not from the dog), and we saw two people successfully execute the turn, one of them a hireboater with a broken arm. Neither was a particularly long boat though.

The Greyhound, I think, is the runner up this trip, but the winner is... You've guessed it, the pub at Iffley lock. Go there if you can.
 

And it's over

Day 26, Hawkesbury Junction to Alvecote, 9 hours.

And that's it.

Learning stuff off YouTube

Sat outside the Greyhound last night studying this.
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=ziNRSQFHNJI
This morning we'll see if I learnt anything

Mixed grill in the Greyhound

Day 25, Hillmorton to Hawkesbury Junction 5 1/4 hours.

Most of it in me, actually.