Pickingupducks

Everybody needs good neighbours

This week has made evident just how important a strong community is to us and society as a whole.

We woke at the weekend to find the river had risen dramatically overnight, our pallet step was in danger of being washed away and the towpath had vanished underwater along with the pub car park nearby. I have never been so glad at investing £13.99 as I was this week – that’s what my lovely new wellies cost me last week, and I have been grateful for them every day!

On Monday we went to help take our eight-year-old grandson to school while his mum was busy with the nearly 3-week old baby. It’s one way we can help while we’re moored nearby. Just before we left the house, we saw a neighbour of our daughter’s, an elderly lady, wandering down the road outside in her dressing gown and slippers. Obviously she was in need of some assistance so the Skipper leapt to the rescue, headed out and steered her back to her home. The door was wide open, and she was clearly distressed but headed back inside. One of the neighbours saw him and popped out to say the lady had been vey distressed overnight, knocking on doors and cars through the early hours, she (and they) had all had very little sleep as a result. People had been patiently returning her home and trying to settle her down through the night. As a result of being out and about without a coat most of the night she had had little sleep, was cold and even more confused and frightened.

We left her with the neighbour and headed off to school with Grandson no. 1. On the way I called 101 for help for her, explaining to the police that I and many others weir concerned for her safety. They were reassuring and said they would ask an ambulance to call as it appeared a health issue.

Returning from the school walk, I found her in a road again, fortunately not a main one, but still in her dressing gown and slippers. Fortunately she was happy to come with me and we returned through her wide open. She was terribly cold but content when I settled her in a chair with a blanket, made her a cup of tea and sat and talked with her. Although sounding lucid, what she actually said made no sense at all. She asked whose house it was, told me it was her husband‘s house (he’s been dead for many year) and ask why she was in it. She wanted the toilet but couldn’t remember where it was, and kept heading for the front door whenever I moved to make tea, or answer a call from the ambulance service safeguarding team.

It was very distressing and frightening for hero and it felt a huge responsibility trying to keep her safe until someone who should and could do so arrived. Eventually her regular carer arrived to get her breakfast. I left her with the carer, who had at my request called the care company to say she couldn’t be left alone and contacted her sister, her next-of -kin. I headed back home through flood water glad she was living on a hill and not contending with that problem!

Splashing back up later to see how she was, I found a neighbour and the ambulance service there. Paramedics were absolutely wonderful, checked on everything physical for her, spent time talking to her being very reassuring and thoughtful. There was little they could do but after 4 houts (2 of them on the phone to social services) they left her with another carer.

Eventually her sister arrived – a huge relief for all who had been helping out. By then three sets of neighbours had been involved in keeping her safe for over 24 hours. They were obviously worrying how to manage another night of disturbance. We were told a carer and her sister would stay with her, so we all dispersed with relief.

Shortly after midnight another ambulance arrived and the lady was taken either to hospital or to respite care. None of us have seen her since, so we’re hopeful that she is now safe and will get the help and support that she needs. The neighbours who had been looking out for her said their involvement had become a common occurrence over recent months, and one her sister knew. It was also apparent they worried if they didn’t see her, imagining she may have had a fall at home, or had wandered off without anyone noticing. It makes us realise how incredibly supportive and long-suffering many neighbours are, and what a hidden strain being a good neighbour can be. There is also unacceptable pressure in such situations, with neighbours feeling obliged to take on responsibilities they feel ill-equipped or pressured to accept. It is a major concern when families are geographically far-flung and unable to respond rapidly to emergency situations.

It is evident the right neighbours, according to experience, can add significant value to their neighbours’ quality of life. According to research, they can also add significant value to the financial value of your home (at least 10% say Bradshaws). In the case of this elderly lady (she will be 90 in April so I don’t think it’s unfair to call her elderly), it was evident that for some considerable time, they had been physically keeping her safe. These were neighbours, some of them didn’t even know her full name, many of whom had never really talked to her at length but all of ehom thought it important that if and when they thought she needed help, they were ready to respond positively, whatever time of the day or night that was, and however inconvenient it was for them.

It made us recognise that one of the many things we’ve noticed on the canal network is how very supportive most people are. We look out for each other. Is it because we’re all aware that we’re living an alternative life, often remote from our families, that this floating community is vitally important to us?

We are aware, perhaps acutely aware, at times of flood or ice and snow, of the need to help others. Just this week I’ve been offering to shop or help out am older neighbour on the river. In the winter we’ve helped numerous times by fetching water and shopping, or emptying bins and emptying toilets for elderly people who we know are on boats around us. We may never have met them until we moored nearby, or we may know them of old, but this looking out for each other is something continuous cruisers do. Is it because the people who move onto boats care particularly about those around them; or we appreciate how difficult and physically challenging this life can be; or is it that so many of us have chosen to live this way so that we have the time to care about the things that are important to us, like our fellow human beings?

I was struck when talking to some of the working-age neighbours in bricks and mortar houses how many of them say that they first became aware of this elderly lady and her problems when they were working from home during Covid, 6 years ago now. Being around made them aware of her and her problems. It is a reflection on society that a dormitory community, by it’s very nature, cannot be as cohesive as one where people are around all day.

Maybe that’s another advantage to living afloat. Many of us do work from home, and a strong community is built on awareness. Research shows that close relationships with neighbours make people feel safer and that makes them less worried, more settled and calmer.

Current research shows loneliness as a najor factor in the mental and physical decline of elderly people. It was something the elderly lady was talking to me about. She said she doesn’t see anybody to talk to for any length of time. She sounded to me at that point quite lucid and a carer explained she and her colleagues visited 4 times imes a day but with little time. They got her food, helped with a bit of cleaning and then left. Opportunities to sit and have a chat or actually ensure she ate and drank were reduced by time pressures. I know some care firms insist that their staff must have conversations to mentally stimulate their clients, supporting them to feel less lonely, but it wasn’t so for this lady.

Although most boats on waterways are limited for space, boaters meet on the towpath, at locks, en route to facilities for chats or in local pubs for longer conversations! Respect and appreciation of boaters for Canal and River Trust’s pastoral support team is apparent. There are around 100 waterways chaplains, there to help boaters in need. They aren’t just there to help people unwell, needing a prescription or anything like that, but often to lend a ear. It is not always easy living on a boat and sometimes boaters can feel very vulnerable. The volunteer chaplains try to cover as much of the network as possible, and they do a fantastic job.

Helping people who are struggling is absolutely key in any community. Canal and River Trust is a charity but a charity that’s there not only for the physical, mechanical network of locks, canals, rivers and bridges behind the waterways. They are clearly also there for the people on the boats that float on their waters. The Boat Licencing team have a remit to help those struggling to pay. Chaplains work with health services and council departments to try and find the support needed for every situation. Together with the wider community their work is fundamental, helping and supporting vulnerable boaters.

At the risk of sounding an enthusiast for an Australian soap opera, everybody needs good neighbours. Neighbours who look after our homes when we are away (bricks or floating), lending us a hand or tools, do shopping, feed pets and put out our rubbish. Supporting our neighbours builds strong communities and makes everyone feel better.

Selfishly too, being a good neighbour is one of those things that we all need to be, because we never know when we ourselves might need a good neighbour. Looking out for those around us is a key element of living anywhere as a human being.

We thrive if we support those around us and enable them to live their lives as safely and happily as possible it’s crucial that we as humans support each other and that’s what we’ve been trying to do this week. We’ll keep walking in the direction of the elderly lady’s house while we are here, joining her neighbours in caring, and if she comes back and we’re still here, then we’re more than happy to support her in any way we can. In supporting anybody we encounter who we can help in any way, we also hope we are showing our children and grandchildren how to be good engaged members of a community, and so they see the benefits genuine neighbourly caring brings us all.

Best of all worlds and best for choice?

It is interesting to see your own way of life portrayed on television, particularly if it is a little different.

We are familiar with Robbie Cumming’s Canal Boat Diaries and always thought them the most honest representation of how we found narrowboat life. Then there was Narrow Escapes which, while entertaining, bore little familiarity to our very own narrow escape.

This week there was another view, that of Dave on his narrowboat Inspired by Nature. He opened up his floating home to Ben Fogle for an edition of Channel 5’s New Lives in the Wild.

Ben joined Dave on the Macclesfield Canal which we lnow . It is hardly a remote outpost, and indeed one which led some criticism on social media. People said that it wasn’t wild. They didn’t tackle any locks (although they did go to the services at the top of the Bosley flight of locks), and there was much conversation about how cheap it was to live afloat as a continuous cruiser which many don’t agree is the case.

For me, many of those comments missed some of the most glorious elements of not only the proramme but the reality of life afloat. The programme captured that on a narrowboat in the UK you can be literally living in the wild if that’s what you choose. You can be away from neighbours (the human kind). You can be surrounded totally by nature. The Macclesfield isn’t the wildest but there are many canals, particularly in Lancashire and Yorkshire where we have found moorings that are remote.

The glory of the waterways is beautifully captured on Dave’s YouTube channel which is named after his boat, which as we know, becomes a floating hide in many ways, allowing us to observe wildlife (and sometimes as Dave pointed out on the programme, humans too). Birds and animals of all kinds tend to ignore the boat unless we openly offer food or conversation.

There are few ways of living that allow you so many choices of how and where to live.

As we know from our years of experience as continuous cruisers, living on a narrowboat gives us the option of:

Regularly changing views and scenery
Choice of the environment you want to live in – city, rural, wilderness
A chance to be surrounded by woodland or pastureland
Opportunities to live alongside high rises or country cottages
Staying put for up to 14 days at a time, or move on after a night or two
Lifting your ropes and moving on if a neighbour you don’t fancy turns up and moors too close
The choice to moor close to pubs and shops or far away from them
The opportunity to cruise on stretches without locks or to choose stretches with locks
And as we know very well right now, if your family have the good sense to be near a connected inland waterway, this life can give you the chance to moor close by for a while when wanted or needed, and then to untie the ropes and head off to pastures.

Dave talked of his narrowboat life as his therapy, a healing place, and in many ways this life can be exactly what the doctors order to strengthen mental resilience.

Living afloat is very much about being in the present moment. When boating we tend to be mindful, in the moment and focused on the here and now. It is safer that way! Tackling a lock or even steering through a narrow section of waterway demands focus and concentration.

Sleep is something doctors advocate, and sleeping afloat is very often for me at least, the very best quality of sleep. We tend to choose moorings away from streetlights, in quiet spots where often the owls are our only companions. This lends itself to uninterrupted hours of sleep. If we also adopt the Circadian rhythms then sleep seems even more rewarding, sleeping in the dark and being active from dawn to dusk.

That being active part is also part of medical advice, and continuous cruising, particularly if we are doing locks and swing bridges helps with that. Regular stretching and lifting, raising the heart rate and walking between locks adds to the healthiness of this life.

The calm of water has proven benefits. Watching water moving is relaxing. The uplifting beauty of sunrises and sunsets reflected of water are good for the spirit. The sound of moving through water at a maximum fast walking pace is calming too.

Being outdoors amid nature is another big plus of this life, and we all know the benefits being outside and in nature can bring. It seems to me that not only being outside so much but being aware of being surrounded by nature 24/7 must be the very best situation. Bricks and mortar are by their very nature more of a barrier than steel, insulation and wood. We are constantly aware of nature, of the weather, of the wildlife, in a way that you cannot be in a house unless it is made of glass.

If I am totally honest, this programme was a much-needed reminder to me of the advantages of living afloat. The constant rain and continuous state of the river being in flood are making my spirits as soggy as the ground outside. Dressing up to take the dog out is a faff. Waterproofs are wonderful, we are lucky to have them, and new wellies with grip are making life safer, but oh I am fed up of needing them every time I want to go out. I know we are happy and indeed want to stay here because it gives us a chance to help with our two grandsons, but Tiller Itch is setting in, probably because we can’t move even if we wanted to. We might move nearer to the water point (although the nearest one isn’t working…), or to the toilet services, or we might just fancy taking the boat for a trip to wherever the nearest working services are, but we can’t because of the flooding, and there’s more rain forecast so levels are not likely to subside soon.

Rant over. New Lives in the Wild shot as it was in autumn reminded me of the beautiful colours, the manageable nature of canals (unless there’s a breach or a breakage of equipment), and made me look forward with anticipation.

A big bonus is being able to volunteer to support CRT’s work in maintaining the network

It reminded me that it is possible to have the best of all worlds in a nomadic life surrounded by home comforts, moving slowly through the days, missing nothing (apart from a bath), and gaining so very much on the way.

Signs, symbols and significance

Next Monday is Candlemas Day, a day traditionally of long range weather prediction, pancakes and of course, candles.

Weather lore is more than folklore, but based on sensory observations over many years, changes in temperature, smell, sounds and sights.

If Candlemas Day be fair and bright

Winter will have another fight.
(In other words there is more wintery weather to come, approximately another 6 weeks)

If Candlemas Day brings cloud and rain

Winter won’t come again.
(Spring will be earlier)

This Candlemas Day is predicted to bring a 40% chance of rain so the coming months could go either way. Winter has been a diverse and differing season this year, so it’s final month has the potential to be exactly the same as the previous two months depending on where you are in the UK.

Weather obsesses boaters – and you’d be forgiven for thinking that only ocean going boaters watch forecasts and their radar rainfall apps constantly. Inland boaters are just as obsessed by weather – it is important to keep an eye on what life is going to be like in the coming days. Will we need to plan ahead, to prepare to get to water points or waste disposal points today if tomorrow’s weather is going to prevent movement?

It has become very apparent from boaters across the inland waterways this winter how very different our experiences have been depending on where we are geographically. Some people have been frozen in for weeks, others have had to tackle flooding, and there were the boats and boaters subject to the disastrous breach on the LLangollen canal. That is a breach which many are speculating was exacerbated by the extreme weather we (and the waterways) are experiencing. Julie Sherman Canal and River Trust’s Chief Operating Officer said: “As you can imagine, the reasons behind embankment failures are complex and not always immediately clear so we are undertaking a full and robust investigation as to the cause. We will of course share the findings publicly in the coming weeks.”

Changes in the weather have been significant as we notice on the water. Our photographs record the differences on a single day this week over past years.

Previous generations were as obsessed with the weather for tmvarious reasons. My farming grandfather paid great attention to the weather lore. This time of Candlemas was wss significant for him as it was when the farming year would start in earnest after the quiet fallow time over Christmas. It was a time when some fields could begin to be worked. I have to say any fields around our current mooring are impossible for farmers to work this Candlemas. They remain waterlogged and it looks like they will be for some considerable time.

As they say,

January brings the snow
Makes us oft our fingers blow,
February brings the rain
And thaws the frozen lakes again.

That sounds like we are scheduled to have even more rain blurring our horizons.

It has, for us, been a soggy start to the year. Since 9 January the River Soar has been continuously in flood. The month started with some frosty cold a days but then came Storms Ingrid, Goretti and Chandra bringing downpours.

The storms brought flooding, power cuts and travel disruption to many parts of the country so we have been lucky to escape as lightly as we have.

We can but hope that the recent rains will have replenished some of the reservoirs that have been drastically depleted during the past year. The predictions are though that we need more rain still until the end of March in order to prevent water restrictions this summer of the type that we faced last year. So we need this Candlemas to herald yet more rain even if we are getting heartily sick of squelching around in mud and water and seeing the stove steaming soggy socks, jeans and coats.

There is some comfort in being connected to our ancestors through weatherlore even if climate change gives it less relevance to what might happen around us. I wonder if future generations will be connected by weatherlore or whether the centuries of observation are already and will always now remain irrelevant. It’s a reflection that I find sad as well as alarming.

So whether Candlemas weather lore is going to have any accuracy this year, I will at least be lighting a candle and making the traditional food on Monday. Pancakes, those tasty golden brown circles that symbolise the sun. It is probably the nearest we are going to get to enjoying much ‘sun’ for a while! It will be good to get some practice in before Pancake Day on February 17 or the Mountsorrel Pancake Races on February 15. Some traditions I’m glad to say continue unabated.

Inspiring new beginnings amid the winds of change

How rapidly things change for us, and not just river levels!

Last week we were awaiting the arrival of a grandchild. He finally arrived in the early hours of a Tuesday morning, a big lad whose arrival proved very uncomfortable for himself and his poor mum. Both are, we believe, recovering. He looks gorgeous and has thrilled his big brother.

We were delighted to be on hand to help grandson no. 1 – the Original according to him – while his baby brother was en route. We had some ferocious board games together and he totally hammered me at digital games! Once the new family member came home we returned to the boat as they all wanted to recover together. I’m on hand if needed or wanted, and the Skipper is now living up in Greater Manchester helping with the oldest member of the family, his nearly 95-year old mum.

That means I’m here without a car, on a river in flood. Because navigation is unsafe when the river is in flood I cannot move the boat to get water, or to empty the toilet. That didn’t matter when we had the car, we could load water containers and toilet cassettes and drive to the nearest Canal and River Trust disposal point. It’s a 7-mile round trip, so a long walk with the trolley and liquids are HEAVY! But it, as they day in France, “pas de probleme”, because it is at tines like this that the community around you comes into play.

A private boatyard a very short walk away has offered their Elsan toilet disposal point any time I need it and so many people from my hairdresser to a pub have offered water. At this rate I could have more water than the river does because of people’s generosity!

A lock ahead is due to be out of action from 2 February until mid March so if the flood waters subside (which doesn’t look very likely to be honest according to the weather forecast), then Noatdog and I may seek to move the boat north off the river Soar, and up the River Trent to the Trent and Mersey Canal. The boating community women, many of whom are singlehanded boaters, has been incredible in the numbers coming forward to offer their help on the journey. Not sure the boat is big enough to hold all who have offered to assist!

Think of your life and how strong and active the community around you is at home and work – and it is always worth us each thinking what we contribute and offer to our communities too.

Being moored in the strong-community village, from which we left bricks and mortar, has great advantages within walking distance there are supermarkets , cafes, buses, pubs, doctors, hairdressers and a farm shop.

I have also been able and grateful to acquire more work, with regular days scheduled across the year. It is work that can be delivered remotely but while I’m here can also be in person. 0

Being back in a familiar area has made me feel quite nostalgic and enabled reflection. I love living afloat but within the next 5 years I recognise as we age we will probably want and perhaps need to live differently. Within that time we may try a fixed mooring option somewhere we like, to discover how that goes. We will probably criose for part of the year and remaining fixed for part. It is an advantage living afloat that the options exist and are many and varied. Maybe the next 5 years are the chance for us to try all options to see what works for us. It’s an exciting thought.

In the meantime, I wish for the newest member of our family, our future, that as he grows up in a place that has a wonderfully strong sense of community, he will benefit from that over the years. They say it takes a village to raise a child – his parents have chosen a great village to support them to do that.

I hope he grows to love the countryside and wildlife around here, enjoys the beauty of the river (even when in flood) and cares for the environment around him as we do. We look forward to introducing him to the natural world around him as grows, showing him the beauty and the positives of life so he appreciates and values them as he grows up.

A new baby is a wonderful reminder that there is always hope and gives us a spur to make our world better for them in any and every way we can. Babies herald new beginnings for us all.

Out of control

This has been a week of waiting. Waiting with anticipation and a little anxiety for a baby to arrive; waiting for the threatened rain and more flooding after things had begun to subside; waiting for news of the Skipper’s mum who was taken by ambulance to hospital; waiting for a damp proof course to cure in a house that is costing much but earning zilch at the moment; and waiting for the Skipper’s latest cold to subside.

All out of our control.

The only thing we have been able to manage is loosening and tightening ropes as the river falls and rises to keep our home safe and afloat.

But amid all these apparently stressful times where we feel powerless to help directly, just hugely grateful that the Skipper’s brother is hugely efficiently on hand with Mum, we can appreciate that living afloat even on a river in flood has significant benefits.

Opening the curtains to beautiful sunrises and a closing them as spectacular sunsets fade. Watching the antics of geese and swans, ducks and moorhens on this stretch of the river is engaging. They also give us good indicators of how fast the flow of the Soar is at different times. Some Formula 1 ducks whizzed past earlier heading for the weir!

We all need these times of pause, times of mindful calm in our lives whatever situation we are in, but this week I have been particularly grateful for them.

There is little we can do but appreciate them, wait and help whenever we are needed. We can be grateful that we are moored somewhere we can see both of our daughters in the same week.

As flooding means we cannot move the boat to a water point to fill up our fresh water tabk, we can be grateful that the nearest daughter has lent a washing machine, a shower and a tap to fill water bottles this week. We are hugely grateful to have the car with us to enable us to drive rubbish and toilet cassettes to facilities points (don’t panic – the cassesstes are sealed for transit!) We are grateful too for unlimited water for flushing the loo (thanks to the overflowing river and garden watering can!).

As they say it doesn’t rain but it pours and we know about that! We also recognise how important a sound support system is. I’ve had some hospital tests this week and whilst I really don’t believe they will indicate anything amiss, there is appreciation that we are somewhere geographically where they could be done and in a country with a national health service. The fact that the Skipper’s mum was treated so quickly and effectively by the NHS this week was another reason for us to be grateful for the service and its staff. She will be 95 next month, so treating her rapidly and competently, enabling her to get back to her home within 24 hours was very important.

Whatever life throws at us, living afloat does have its challenges but those are significantly outweighed by the advantages. This week like so many boaters and non-boaters alike, we have been watching with astonishment the incredible rescue of the boats affected by the Llangollen Canal breach near Whitchurch. The Canal and River Trust staff and the contractors involved have managed a remarkable feat. Many YouTubers have been relaying their incredible achievement to the rest of us watching with bated breath.

We can but hope that all three boats will be returned to their families and be able to be refloated and we shall see them out again on the cut before long. Even with the possibility of such dramatic and horrendous accidents happening, living afloat has to be one of more rewards than drawbacks, more delight than drama to balance the inevitable sagas of life.

Plus all around us are the signs that things are getting better, that Spring is round the corner. Regular reminders of positivity, something we all need, wherever and however we live.

Displacement activity including another named storm

This Storm Goretti, aka Storm Spaghetti as a certain 8-year old dubbed it this week has kept us guessing.

We had a warning of “significant snowfall” so someone was expecting a snow day of making snowmen and sledging (as were his teachers). They weren’t the only ones severely disappointed when the snow failed to materialise but slushy roads and pavements emerged instead. Friends just a few miles away were meanwhile sharing pictures of snowy drifts, closed schools, and white fields.

The river didn’t freeze but the lock did

Being on a river above a weir where water is moving continuously means we won’t get frozen in, but we have seen many boating friends on canals are immobile due to thick ice. The lock froze when no one used it. There has been quite an (ironically) heated debate on social media groups about whether boats should be moving in these conditions. Thick ice can damage the blacking on narrowboats and actually tear a hole in a fibreglass boat, but some boats such as the traditional coal boats who are literal lifelines to those who need the fuel they carry for power, heat and cooking have been trying heroically to make it through frozen waterways.

For us this week has seen biting winds and some torrential rain. Volunteering for Canal and River Trust this week was a chilly affair but worthwhile. Boatdog and I were particularly impressed with a significant haul of litter which as Shrek would say is “better out than in”. If you fancy volunteering where you are, there are many options – just visit https://canalrivertrust.org.uk/volunteer

Water levels have been rising with the rain, and further downstream CRT have this week taken action to lower levels downstream between two locks heading towards Loughborough. This they did based on the predicted rainfall, reducing levels for the length of that 3 mile long pound by 30cms, about a foot. This was to try and mitigate the risk of flooding which some households in Loughborough experienced for the first time last year when levels rose.

The Skipper and our home by Chris Roulston

It appears it worked. For us upstream the situation has been different. We have risen about that height today as water thunders past us heading towards Loughborough the weir. If things get really nasty we could head into the lock and sit there but for now we are loosening our ropes to allow the boat to keep floating up. She would have to rise a very long way to float up onto the towpath which is a comfort and we aren’t yet at the point of needing to buy more, longer ropes to ensure she rises straight in the water and doesn’t start tipping because the ropes are too tight or short. Tipping narrowboats are not good. There are vents and exit points for water that can, under pressure and at the wrong angle become water access points, resulting in a sinking boat. For that reason we are checking ropes every couple of hours and have adjusted our fenders too. Unfortunately all our fenders are the floating variety and the side of the river at this mooring point slopes in well under the water so we are not protected from bashing against it as the flow moves us but we are fine.

As the tiver water has started seeping onto the towpath we won’t be going up much more because water will then flow away from the river across the land alongside. Some years ago when we lived in bricks and mortar near here we watched as a narrowboaters was rescued by the Fire Service from flooded fields. He had set off despite the warnings and was unaware of where the river started and stopped. His propellor became embedded in the grass and soil of the flooded fields.

On a lighter note, Boatdog has adjusted to jumping up much further to get onto the boat today than she did yesterday, and even adopted a rather ridiculous tippy toe walk to avoid most of the slush.

Boatdog looking somewhat disheveled after s wet walk

All this is basically displacement activity along with a jigsaw, making market bags, work and starting 10,000 hours of watercolour painting, has a positive bonus. It serves to keep us occupied while we wait with increasing impatience to meet the new arrival.

Live your dream

Many of us start a new year with a reflective look back at the old, but for us circumstances have resulted in a rather further look back than usual.

With a new grandchild very imminent we are back in the area where we started our narrowboat living journey over 5 years ago, and that has meant a chance to catch up with many acquaintances who we haven’t seen in person for that time. Volunteering on New Year’s Day back at the parkrun we were fortunate to help get underway (Dishley Loughborough if you need a D!), proved an unexpected spur for reflection.

Many people seemed astonished we were now on our 6th year living afloat. Some (not following our progress online) could not believe we had made it through even our first winter afloat and totally failed to be convinced when I explained how warm it is on board (we only have to heat the equivalent of a large room after all). Others said it seemed only a couple a years since we cast off. Lots wanted to know where we had been and what we had seen (north to Gargrave and Selby, east to London and Lincoln, west to Llangollen and Bath and we’ve seen far too much to fit in one conversation!).

Some were happy they had maintained the status quo of the homes and jobs that they had when we set off. Some were astonished that we continue to live our boatlife, a life we set off onfilled with trepidation. Others, who have visited us afloat or vicariously voyaged with us via our blogs and social media updates, have an understanding of the pull, the joy and the unexpected delights of this life. There are also, and always, in any of these conversations those who say they wish they could do what we are doing but feel powerless to make the move.

This week the floods abated and we managed a move to exactly where we wanted to be for the arrival of grandchild no. 2. A friend who has been to the boat but never when moving, joined us for a cruise to where we wanted to be, a chance to view the village where she too used to live from a very different perspective, and a chance to take the tiller. Anyone who has done this with us talks about what a different view they have of the world around them as they move so slowly onwards, of the delight of floating on water watching calming reflections and ripples.

A narrowboat is a mode of travel that unfolds new vistas as well as giving time for fuller appreciation of what is around – in our case the pure snowy white of a little egret set against the dark green of the invasive pennywort; the sudden flash of turquoise and russet as a kingfisher hurtles from branch to branch alongside; the sombre stare and stance of a statuesque grey heron frozen in silent expectation of catching an unsuspecting snack.

These are tiny, often fleeting, moments, glimpses of the world around us that are so important and so gloriously common for us living as we do. It is moments like this that make me, for one, wonder if I could return to living in bricks and mortar again, without the constant, almost continuous, nature boosts we are delivered. It isn’t just birdlife but animals too – shy shadowy forms of deer edging cautiously to the water for a drink, occasional playful otters, swimming squirrels, and unexpected encounters with badgers and stoats. It is nature in the round – sunsets, sunrises, weather of all types, of which we feel an immediate part, living like this. Bricks and mortar are by their very nature static, and being able to move from place to place amid nature, to be bathed by it and feel a part of it, is a remarkable privilege.

Yes, there are downsides to this life. Mud that seems never-ending in winter, a constant grumble on our boat about hot water (lack of is getting resolved…), the carrying of heavy winter fuel, the excesses which affect how we move and live from droughts to floods, the occasional moments of getting stuck somewhere you don’t want to be, today it’s frozen ropes, iced hatches and slippery towpaths…

Sometimes we wistfully dream of country cottages with flourishing gardens, with flushing loos that don’t have to be emptied, and yet the balance always seems to come down firmly in favour of living afloat.

We don’t have a bath on board, but that makes going somewhere that does a massive treat. We don’t have unlimited space but that means we will be offering our soon-to-be-multiple grandchildren very individual attention (one staying at a time!). We don’t have a garden where I can grow whatever I like (but I can grow many things, I don’t get affected by slugs and am already planning a different fruit and flower combo for this summer’s roof garden).

What we do have are unlimited boosts to the spirit, multiple times a day. Changing places and people, new experiences and new delights on a regular basis. A community which is built on shared experiences and values. Priceless – and all wrapped up in an offgrid lifestyle that means we travel as lightly through the environment as we can, actively and positively trying to live thoughtfully in the world, doing our bit to leave it better for our grandchildren.

What we have on a daily basis is more than dreams. What we do in daily life is more than just imagining. How we actually live now is more than fantasy. There are compromises, but a lot fewer than people imagine.

We know from experience that it is better to LIVE your dream, than dream your life away. In 2026 we can hope that many more people are able, like us, to live their dreams and make them work.

May we all, like Boatdog, live our dreams – in her case to firmly hog the sunny spot!

What to do when the only certainty is uncertainty

2025 has been been a dramatic year living afloat on the inland waterways. It started on New Year’s Day with a large breach of the Bridgewater canal at Little Bollington in Cheshire, a breach which is still being repaired.

It ends with a dramatic breach on the Llangollen Canal near Whitchurch.

Luckily neither of these led to injuries although the most recent has damaged boats and left some boaters homeless. It has also seen the significant raising of funds to support them by boaters and others, hire boating companies rapidly stepped in and offered temporary floating homes, other people came forward with clothes, Christmas gifts and support.

Crises such as these bring out the best in people, and in the floating community we know just how strong that supportive, helping, positive spirit is. We haven’t been hit by breaches this year but our thoughts go out to all who have.

Two major canal breaches this year, along with some other less severe ones, makes it highly likely that these issues will be something we all need to navigate or at least anticipate over the coming months and years.

This year we have faced unprecedented flooding that led to an emergency evacuation around us – we survived better than those around, staying safe and checking, loosening ropes every few hours as the waters rose. We also had to contend with drought leading to low water levels – just as discombobulating to be honest, albeit drier underfoot.

It has led us to think differently about our year ahead, as continuous cruisers we need to keep moving to stay within the terms of our licence. This year though, we have found ourselves not moving as much because of the conditions brought about by excessive water and crippling drought.

We experienced flooding at the start of the year and now at the end of the year has resulted in river levels being too high to safely navigate. We are ending 2025 as we began 2026, back on the River Soar in flood, so we are once again unable to move. We also had several months when we were unable to move in the summer because locks were locked to stop navigation due to a lack of water. We joined queues for locks about to open and experienced the anxiety of wondering if we would get through before they were closed again. We made it through 5 storms without incident – Eowyn (January), Florian (August), Amy (October), Claudia (November) and Bran in December.

Next year we are likely to experience the same issues of floods, storms and the network is likely to face more breaches because of conditions, so we shall manage what we can, pray the damage during those incidents we cannot manage is minimal, and ensure our insurance is up to date.

Whatever happens we anticipate an exciting and memorable 2026. We are back on the River Soar waiting for the arrival of our second grandson in a matter of a few weeks. Once he is safely here we shall be cruising for a while before returning to Leicestershire for the arrival of grandchild no. 3 at the end of May! Our daughters have very conveniently arranged things for us that this can be the year of babies!

Boatdog volunteering for litter picking duties

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All this means we can be volunteering for CRT in areas and with teams we have got to know which will be a delight. This year took us (volunteering en route) from the River Soar along the Leicester Line, the Grand Union, down the Aylesbury Arm, onto the now closed (breached) Wendover Arm, then a lock outage sent us back along the GU to the Oxford canal, onto the River Thames, the Kennet and Avon to Bath, back along the Thames and tidal Thames to rejoin the GU at Brentford, and up onto the Leicester Line. For those who love stats (and I know there are many who do) that was 794 miles, through 598 locks (one of which – Grants Lock -we were towed through by CRT staff and volunteers due to lock damage).

Next year we anticipate low mileage again as we explore nearer to the family, heading into and around the Birmingham Canal Navigation. This year because of stoppages, detours and navigation issues we have met many delightful new people on and off boats, so we now look forward to halts and dramas with delighted anticipation.

This year we’ve had a gorgeous solid wood kitchen with ingenious storage and beautiful finishes – thanks Ben at Holm Oak Trading, and a new well deck – thanks Kev Kyte.

I think our mantra for 2026 has to be – expect and enjoy the unexpected, and always leave phones, shoes and a bank card within reach for handy grabbing in case we have to leave the boat in a hurry. We don’t have to worry about Boatdog being left behind anywhere – where I go she goes with alacrity!

Being on a boat does have its risks, but it has immense rewards that still outweigh the drawbacks of bricks and mortar for us so we shall keep cruising as and when we can. That’s our goal, oh and to at last get hot water on board that doesn’t come from boiling a kettle! It’s good to have dreams.

All that really matters is a happy and healthy year – and that is what we wish for all you wonderful people who have travelled with us via this blog. We look forward to travelling together for another eventful year.

Wishing you a very Happy Christmas from all of us aboard nb Preaux

Coming, going and an invitation for you

It’s been looking a lot like Christmas this week. The on/off flood situation continues and water remains an issue both around and in the boat. And Christmas is edging nearer.

Last weekend saw our annual four generational family meal, which the boating community made easier. The river was rising as Boatdog (in a coat to reduce clinging mud) and I (in wellies) plodded through the mud and fields above the lock, her food and bowls in my backpack and my weekend bag containing a skirt (not worn one of the one for a while in the wet and mud). By the time we got to the road and the immaculate car of my lovely brother-in-law we were ready to shed muddy coats and boots into the bags I’d brought for them so we weren’t totally obnoxious passengers! Flood water was just beginning to cover the road as we drove away.

One of the major advantages of this floating life can be the community around. Moored near us is another boater who has been having engine issues. He assured me he would keep an eye on the boat, loosening ropes as necessary, and so did two of the permanent moorers nearby, one of whom has my number, and a man from the nearby boatyard. So nb Preaux was facing rising waters but with more attention than she would have had with just me on board (the Skipper headed north before me to stay with his mum).

Leaving the boat alone on a river at this time of the year is always a worry, even though we’ve done it so many times that I should be used to it by now. Equally I know from experience that other boaters are generous with their support.

After the family weekend Boatdog and I squelched our way back to the boat after a lift from our youngest daughter back from the north in foul driving conditions (glad it was her behind the wheel with her youthful reaction speeds rather than me). The wind was howling and rain still falling as we slithered back across soaked ground to the boat to find her exactly as we had left her. Within 5 minutes the dog bowls were filled and back in their place and the stove was lit. That for me instantly makes a cold boat feel like home.

No sooner was I back onboard than I was repacking bags and heading off to housesit in Derbyshire, swapping places with the Skipper so he has the boat to himself for a change. I love the regular times when I have the boat to myself, but am also aware that the Skipper rarely gets that treat. I have no idea what he wil choose to do buy for me solo time allows me an opportunity to potte, craft, write and ignore the frustrating interruptions of refular mealtimes. When I do eat it is nearly always fish on these indulgent weekends because the Skipper is allergic to fish.

So he’s been on the boat for part of this week by himself, and I have been rattling round a stone farmhouse. It seems vast, and just getting from bed to the kitchen takes a trek rather than 20 steps!

Boatdog is tentatively exploring her new environment with growing confidence although she and the resident cats have a bit of a stand off – demanding some new feeding arrangements. She adores the fields that run down from the farmhouse to a stream at the bottom which is flowing fast after this week’s rain.

I have enjoyed a farmhouse kitchen with a table I can indulgently spread out looms and weaving, crafting and painting ready for my final craft market back in Leicestershire on 20th. I’m also preparing to take advantage of the Aga to cook Christmas fruit cakes (a little later than stir-up Sunday but better late than never).

Parcels ready for festive stocking are being delivered to our elder daughter’s address and by the time I get back I will be armed with wrapping paper as well as cakes!

Back on the boat the flood waters are subsiding and the Skipper is anxious about the water tank is getting very low so he really wants to move the boat this weekend with support from the sons-in-law and of course if there is no return of the river to flood. Will he make it? Where will our floating home be by the time I get back? Will I even find it? Watch this space to find out or if you find yourself near Mountsorrel on 20th – come and join the fun (and find out in person!). Be great to see you.

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