Interrogating the season

Bet it’s bad in winter – you don’t live on it all year round do you – guess you don’t move at this time of year? Constant questions boaters face at this time of year. Our responses are usually always the same – it’s cosy inside as small spaces are easier to heat – it’s great in many ways living on a boat winter – canals are quieter and mooring is easier to find. Yes, we live on the boat all year round because it’s our only home, our office and our workshop.

Sparkling in the winter sunshine

Life takes on a different pace in winter, it needs to. We move slower, we move the boat less, we take more time to live, to move coal, collect sticks for kindling, to stoke the fire and tend it so it never goes out. There is increased work in winter, and we accept that’s part of the lifestyle.

Because of that fire and the increased retro fit insulation which we keep adding it’s not cold on the boat in winter. If the fire went out it would be bitter at the moment. We keep warm screaming at the radio or TV regularly when they tell us everyone in the country is benefiting from the £400 winter fuel allowance. It may well apply unless you are off grid and itinerant. We are immensely grateful to the National Bargee Travellers Association who are fighting the corner or us and every other traveller, seeking to get us all help with our coal and gas bills. Living in a metal box in winter every little helps.

We are aware all the time what it’s like outside. We see the grass alongside our windows by the towpath is white and crunches under foot when we finally get to it. Getting to it is a bit of a struggle and involves crawling out of the doors beneath the rear hatch because the metal hatch has frozen solid. We crawl out clutching the kettle that’s heated on the stove ready, and thaw the runners open to allow us to slide the hatch open and stand upright at our back doors.

Crawling out gives a lower perspective 🤣

On the water side of the boat this week has brought ice, not thick but still creating a duck skating rink. Our mooring ropes are stiff and solid, glistening with ice, a far cry from being flexible and pliable as usual. Sometimes they thaw during the day, other times they stay rigid like metal hawsers all day.

The air smells different, it is sharp and breathing in out here hurts, but it feels clean and pure at the same time. It is easy to imagine that lurking germs have been wiped out by this sudden deep freeze.

My paternal grandmother used to talk about bitter winters on the farm in Kent when at the first sign of winter she claimed they would smear yellowish goose grease (by-product of a hearty meal) over their chest and back, wrap the oily areas in brown paper and then don a tight vest over the whole unsavoury package. Those three layers would stay untouched until the dawn of spring. Heaven knows what the smell was like by then…perhaps it reached a peak and then died away? Or maybe everyone smelled the same so no one remarked upon the rancid whiff.

We avoid goose fat and brown paper. Layers are the order of the day, but layers including our thermals are back in action. The best I’ve found came cheap from Aldi some years ago, lightweight yet warm, they make moving about easier and safer at this time of year. In the cold morale can dip and if you are cold you move less fluidly which can lead to problems, particularly when tackling icy locks.

We haven’t had snow yet this winter but we keep moving when we have, locks and all

Moving the boat means negotiating locks, (unless on the lockless Ashby Canal) an occupational hazard for continuous cruisers like ourselves. We haven’t selected to go into a marina or take a winter towpath mooring for some months so at least every fortnight we need to move in a meaningful manner. That demands managing locks, Lock mechanisms and lock beams get icy at this time of year and demand significant care. A dip in freezing waters from a slip is not what anyone wants or needs. Given hypothermia can be fatal unexpected swims are best avoided.

So yes, we love winter, we love the fact that winter and the work it entails helps us appreciate the other seasons when they come, helps us appreciate our stove and the comfort food bubbling away on its welcome heat, appreciate the fact the grate broke a few weeks ago when we weren’t freezing and could replace it. We appreciate the blanketing calm of winter on the waterways and the constant incredible service of the coal boats crewed for long, long days by some of the most amazing individuals we’ve ever met.

Cutting edge philosophy

This dramatic sculpture, made from over 100,000 knives, tours towns and cities across the UK as a statement against knife crime.

I’ve had the privilege of working with young people seeing the Knife Angel first-hand this week as it arrived in Milton Keynes where it will be officially unveiled today (Saturday 3 December).

It’s a testament to the power of creative art, and particularly poignant at this time of year. It reminds that, because of violent crime, many families will have an empty place at their table this Christmas and a hole in their lives forever.

It makes me even more grateful for how fortunate we are to start our Christmas this weekend together with a family meal fornall generations at a lovely restaurant overlooking the Staffordshire and Worcestershire Canal.

The tradition began long before we owned our narrowboat. We would look out onto the canal every year and wistfully say “If only…” as we reminisced about family canal holidays.

Over the years, we have seen many personal changes. We continue to gather joyfully for our festive meal but now raise a grateful glass together to those loved ones no longer with us, and celebrate being joined by new family members. Whilst these losses and arrivals affected us all, they touched the individuals concerned most deeply. We did save to buy a narrowboat for family high days and holidays. Then came the last three years which have brought immense changes to all our lives.

In 2019 experiencing a pandemic was unknown to most of us. We came together for our traditional festive celebrations without much of a care in the world, unaware of what was to come.

In came 2020 – and with it pandemic, lockdown, social distancing. The family mealnwas off but for us it was a time to take chances, take a leap of faith, decide that life was for living and believe somehow (we weren’t totally sure on the detail) we could make lives living afloat, travelling the country on our narrowboat, living at a different pace. Christmas was subdued under the looming and very real shadow of Covid which like knife crime was actively and suddenly destroying health and lives. The joy of seeing family if and when we could was the only gift we all we all wanted.

2021 seemed very different again. We were back together, allowed to see each other, but tentative, nervous and it seemed a fragile reunion. We asked loved ones if they minded a hug and we celebrated with two missing from our festive table, because of Covid and a long-term illness.

This year, this weekend, we hope we will all be together, grateful we can be united once more. We remain grateful for our leap of faith and are still happily cruising round Britain, sharing how we live and what we see with increasing numbers of virtual passengers thanks to social media.

We meet many people on the waterways who have sold up, taken the plunge and become liveaboards. When you are surrounded by something it seems normal and not unusual. It’s only when talking to friends, family and work colleagues who don’t live on the move that how we live now seems different, even daring. Regular Teams calls for work begin with “Where are you today?” People often say how lucky they think we are. We are fortunate and still working hard to live like this and make it work.

We continue to cruise and to work. We have met more fascinating people and enjoyed more breathtaking sights and sounds on the waterways. This weekend once again I shall dress up, put my shoes in a bag, don my wellies to get me from the boat and along the muddy towpath to the bridge by the restaurant, and hopefully then celebrate with all the family. In my head I will be saying not “If only…” but “We did, and we do…”

We have learned along the way that if you want to make a change there is always a way to do so. There may be compromises – we don’t have a newest, smartest boat. We don’t have a bottomless purse but who does? Things go wrong. Things break and fail and frustrate at times, on and off the boat. We are at the mercy of the weather and the weaknesses of a 200+ year old canal network.  

We have the fun of working together to find solutions, making things work for us, and figuring out ways to continue when things go wrong. It’s not all plain sailing but the satisfaction in a life lived for every moment is immense. Perhaps it’s no wonder over 76 narrowboats are named Carpe Diem – seize the day.

It all underlines for me how fortunate we are, how precious life is, and how we all need to seize the day, to make the most of every day, for ourselves and for others. Can we make that our Christmas gift to ourselves and each other.

Who knows what lies ahead? We can but hope.

The narrowboat travelling life can easily be seen as a metaphor for every life.

We never know what’s round the corner or what tomorrow, the next week, the next hour or even the next minute will bring. If it’s bad now, it may well be brilliant in a moment (or not) but change is certain.

A week ago we were watching paint dry, living life in a single spot, tucked under a canopy, without running water. Today you join us 47 miles, 1 tunnel and 32 locks further down the Shropshire Canal. A week ago the wait for paint to dry in our refurbished water tank so it could be filled, seem never ending, the daily checking seemed to take an age to move from wet to tacky (that lasted for many many days) to finally ‘dry enough’!

After a week of sitting frustrated, within a minute of ‘dry enough’ the hose was connected, water was flowing in, and a few hours (yes, hours) later the lid was lifted on, sealant applied round the lid and we were finally ready to set off – backwards at first to avoid going down a lock to turn round and return.

Less than half an hour later we were escaping static boredom via our first lock, grabbing at dwindling daylight to head along the Middlewich Branch towards the Shropshire Union Canal once more, to sleep under stars again in comfortingly dark countryside with only owls for company.

We are on a travelling mission – to make it to our annual, much-awaited family Christmas get together that conveniently happens (thanks Mum) at The Moat House Hotel in Acton Trussell alongside the Staffordshire and Worcestershire Canal.

The Moat House Hotel from our 2021 mooring

The shortest route to get there from where we were in dry dock is 44 miles but because of the winter closure programme we can’t use that way – we need to go the long way round, 65miles and 5 and three quarter furlongs through 43 locks and one tunnel to our destination. All that in autumn when leaves are falling from the trees to slow our progress by creating a thick leaf soup that clogs our prop, meaning regular pauses as we engage reverse to shake them off.

Locks harbour leaf soup these days

We have to be at our destination by December 1. Even at a maximum of 4 miles an hour that sounds like we have loads of time, but we won’t be able to travel every day. Equally we won’t be making 4 miles an hour over much of the route because there are many moored boats, and we slow to tick over to pass these, avoiding creating a wash and disrupting their mooring in the same way we expect others to pass us when we are moored. Every lock also, while taking us up in the world at the moment, takes time too.

There are working days to factor in too, when we need to be moored up with good WiFi and won’t move. Then we also have to think about spending time fetching a car on a couple of days, and a weekend when we won’t move the boat because Steve’s away (with said car) and it’s always good for him to know where home is to come back to. That’s also my weekend to catch up on work and housework so I don’t have time to move us. So we have 7 moving days.

Our planned early morning starts on moving days make the most of daylight hours and have been utterly glorious – golden sunrises and rose-tinted dawns.

There’s been rain – no surprise there! Some delighted us by arriving on days we were moored working, other days we were drenched as we journeyed and the boat each evening was draped inside with waterproofs dripping and steaming by the stove.

We’ve managed to get the boat stuck on a sandstone ledge between locks (and get off), seen friends en route, discovered new delicacies (Billingtons Gingerbread from Market Drayton) and been dazzled continuously by autumn colours on the way.

I started what some see as Black Friday, a frenzy of consumption, with my own Back to it Friday – back to regular jogging and a thoroughly enjoyable return it was. Injury niggles stayed away, the towpath was mainly good, and I made it out and back to meet the boat conveniently under a bridge where I could jump back on.

My post-run water taxi approaches!

Other family members who live more normally will set off on the morning of the lunch. Our lengthier journey is bringing us challenges, fun and increasing daily our excitement at seeing our fabulous family and sharing a delicious festive meal together (thanks again Mum!)

It’s only been a week but we are well on our way and we should reach our destination in time next week. There is of course the frisson of never knowing what’s round the corner and something totally unexpected might still affect one of the canals or the boat, or one of us which would hold us up, but at the moment, we are on track, and we always have hope, ready to navigate any obstacles in our way.

In deep water living afloat

We have water water everywhere, under us, over us but not a drop in our tank!

Finnish readers (or reader to be accurate) may be startled to know that in England since the year our narrowboat home first went in the water (1989), water provision has been privatised. Until then it was considered a Public Health Service and managed by the State on behalf of all the people.

Normally when we are cruising we have access to thousands of water points provided by British Waterways originally and now Canal and River Trust. The Trust has the job of negotiating with the providers across the country on our behalf in return for part of our licence fee. We carry a hosepipe with us and hook up to these points regularly (about every 3 weeks to date) to fill our onboard tank with clean, fresh water that we then use for cooking, washing, showering and flushing our toilet.

For the past 2 weeks we have been living off the boat as she has been in dry dock. We returned on board at the start of this week and have been living on her at the boatyard. As part of the work surrounding our time in dry dock we decided issues with our water tank needed resolving. For some years every time we fill up we create a flood on board as water spews out of holes at the top of the tank into the bow area, and then because of the bizarre drainage system, into the bilges which need mopping or pumping out.

Additionally we never knew how big the tank was, or indeed what state it was in. We knew we hadn’t been ill from consuming the water we poured and stored into it, but we weren’t sure it had ever been cleaned or refined in its 33 year lifetime. So, expensive though we knew it would be, we felt it a necessity and save on mops!

Our water tank takes up the whole of the bow floor of the boat, stretching right across from side to side. It is BIG, and it was nothing short of revolting when opened up. The bottom looked repulsive, but the water never drains from the very bottom, the outlet pipe taking water from an inch or two off the base. Even so, the thought that some of that gunge could be stirred or shaken into the water coming from the taps as we travel makes me very glad we’ve had the work done.

So the huge cover was removed by drilling off the rusted bolts, and that showed us that most water tank lids are secured by many more bolts than ours was! Rust had built up under the tank lid, expanding until the lid didn’t fit properly any more, and thus leaked. Now the tank and its lid have been cleaned, sandblasted, cleaned again and treated with a liner paint suitable for potable locations.

For the past week the tank has loomed like an empty chasm just outside the cabin doors ( good thing we don’t sleep walk!) whilst this lining paint dries. Watching paint dry is overrated and NOT a relaxing pastime I can report…at least not for us!

Steve painting the deck floor whilst standing in the tank that’s being heated by a radiator to speed drying time

It has given us a chance to reflect on water, particularly it has been raining pretty torrentially here in Cheshire all week as we sit ironically stranded and waiting for water. The tank needs to dry before it can be sealed with its newly painted and treated lid, and then refilled with fresh water. Once we have the tank sealed and filled then we will be off once more. Other work is complete. We have our BSS (MOT equivalent) until December 2026, our batteries are encased in a newly welded battery tray with space for another when we can afford it, our hull is beautifully blacked for another 4+ years and the gearbox full of fresh oil.

Flush with canned water!

So water – one little week of flushing the loo with watering cans of water from the canal makes me realise how little water we use for that purpose because we control the flush to what is needed. A household toilet uses between 6 or 9 litres each flush depending on whether it’s low flush or not. We with our watering can system have realised we use just half a litre a day to flush our loo, that’s a twelfth of the bricks and mortar house equivalent, and we work from home too, so we are here most of the time. We aren’t being profligate with water for flushing then.

For drinking water for the three of us (Steve, me and the dog), cooking, hand washing and washing up we initially bought 2 x 5litre bottles of water from the local supermarket. We have been refilling them thanks to the Wharf where we are moored and who are doing the excellent work for us. That’s helping with weight training – makes us realise how heavy water is, and how grateful that we don’t have to carry it daily as so many people in other countries do.

In terms of showers this week we’ve been incredible in terms of water saving – we haven’t brought any water at all onto the boat for showers. Nor do we smell! We have been very grateful that leisure centres have reopened post pandemic, and enjoyed hot showers for a very reasonable price together with a swim at one centre. The canal network does provide showers at some services but when we managed to get to one (couldn’t do this without a car), we found it locked and we couldn’t open it with our British Waterways key which was irritating to say the least. The leisure centre have proved closer, more convenient and more economical.

Swim, shower and a treat – don’t get this on board!

Maybe this weekend the water tank will be dry and sealed and we shall be able to refill it. Because we have now see its configuration of inlet and outlet we haven’t installed a gauge to indicate full, half full and empty because it would always read inaccurately so we just know it is big and actually it is bigger than we thought it was. Approximate calculations give us a tank of 550l or 120 gallons. That means as it’s nice and clean we may well move our 3 week fill up maximum to 6 weeks and if we run out for once (we never have) then we will shorten that time for the future.

It is astonishing how many times I have turned on a tap and looked in surprise as no water comes out. Even though I know we are here because we have no water, I still go to turn on the taps.

I know that when I do turn them and water gushes out I shall be hugely grateful and appreciative that I have the luxury and security of knowing that as part of our licence fee we have access to clean, safe water, for only the effort of connecting a hose to a standpipe every few weeks. For that reason, we won’t be sending Christmas cards this year but donating the money we would have spent doing so to the charity WaterAid to help their vital work in providing clean, safe water and sanitation.

Not rote but boat learning

Absence makes the heart grow fonder they say and distance gives space for effective reflection. We’ve found both to be true this past 2 weeks on enforced, planned exile from our floating home and office as she enjoys a bit of necessary pampering in dry dock.

New blacking and tunnel bands will protect her hull for years to come

It’s given us time and space to appreciate the past fortnight spending precious time travelling much faster in areas without navigable waterways. Seeing family we haven’t seen for years has been a delight and very special.

We’ve revelled in the luxury of deep hot baths, and flushing loos where there’s no thought that an over enthusiastic flush will hasten the time before a system empty is needed!

I’ve not been consciously mindful of water and its conservation this week either. I’ve turned on taps, flushed loos and taken baths and showers aware that the tank won’t be depleting which feels a treat but is,  problematic.

It makes me realize that it is so easy in a house to use water mindlessly. All those mindless moments might mean there’s less watering our reservoirs next year if rainfall doesn’t replenish the low levels. That in turn could mean repeated restrictions for us to cruise waterways if we have another hot summer as is currently being predicted.

And we have missed our floating cruising lifestyle immensely these past weeks. We have missed the gentle pace, the constant soothing motion of which we weren’t aware until it wasn’t there, and the warmth.

Boaters know to expect the perennial questions “Is it warm or isn’t it cold …on the boat?” It is warm, whatever the weather outside.

Heating a well insulated smallish space well is much easier and economical than trying to heat a house. Previous generations knew this principle well, heating single rooms and doubling up with blankets, layers and hot water bottles when straying from the heat source! It made sense and still does, in financial terms too. It is more difficult when faced with cental heating rather than an open fire or multifuel stove. On the boat the Morso Squirrel stove is our heat source, our super efficient clothes drier in wet weather and a cooker too. We have been aware that we’ve had a break from our constant routine of lighting it and nurturing it day and night but at the same time we have missed its comforting, efficient radiance,  that rewards our stewardship.

We realise too that we really missed being aware of the elements which we recognise we always are afloat. A storm in a house is intermittently experienced. Much of the time you have to consciously look outside to see if it’s raining for example. In a boat you always know whats happening in the world around you whatever you are doing. The windows are closer to your eye, being closer together than they are in a house. The metal roof resonates with the rhythm of the rain and the wind rocks us. The changing flows and tempos keep us unconsciously aware of the world outside our metal floating box. They are as a heartbeat to our lives.

We are aware we have also missed the people we encounter, the cheery greetings and welcome waves from strangers on boats and towpaths, the delightfully appreciative comments of walkers peering into the boat and talking of our home often totally oblivious that we are inside! Seeimg a boat seems to make people happy. We love the fact that we have a moveable metal  hide that allows us to get close to wildlife and human life often unobserved.

I have also become increasingly appreciative these past weeks of the way our floating home allows us to live lagom and how inportant that is to how I feel. Lagom isbthe principle of moderation – not too much or too little but just enough. We have enough for comfort and necessity, for pleasure and a good life but not so much that we are overloaded and cluttered.

We have just enough, our lives are in balance and this time away has brought a welcome appreciation of how calming and fundamental this has become to living well. Our boat, I realise, has taught us how to really live, and I for one am so grateful for that lesson. It is a conscious realisation and recognition that enough is just that, enough, and that it keeps me happy and contented.

What more can we ask? Just to get back afloat – hopefully next week – fingers crossed.

High and dry without a home or office

Moving home and office is something we know all about as boaters – we do it regularly, casting off our mooring ropes and cruising to new places week in, week out. But leaving our home and casting ourselves off the boat is something we don’t normally do.

Not a canal in sight

In the past two and a bit years since we moved to live and work afloat full time as continuous cruisers, travelling the waterways of England and Wales, we have only left the boat for family holidays. Now though, our beloved home is not floating – she’s in dry dock undergoing major work. This is work we’ve been planning for years. There’s a saying in the boating world, whatever the boat, that BOAT stands for Bring Out Another Thousand, and this is work involving lots of noughts… It has taken time to plan and save, to decide what had to be done now, and what we would like done, and what can wait for another day.

We’ve been hovering around the Middlewich area for over a month now, cruising gently along the Shropshire Union, the Middlewich Branch and onto the Trent and Mersey making sure we could meet our arrival time at the dry dock of 31 October without getting caught by stoppages and closures.

Dry weather and damage led to the closures of the Cheshire Flight in October so we were glad we had avoided that, but then some downpours allowed many canals stopped because of a lack of water, to reopen to allow people to at least get to winter moorings if they intend to stay put for the winter. We don’t – once we get the boat back we will be happy to get back to our normal routine of continuously cruising, ceasing only if ice on the canal stops play (ice is damaging to hulls and their protection if you move through it). There’s also the need to consider the winter stoppages programme which will comes into effect this month, and runs until March 2023. This is the planned maintnce programme which Canal and River Trust publish in advance after consultations. Some of that work was completed during drought stoppages which means updates and amendments to review. More on that in a future blog (moving about in the winter requires advance planning!).

Preaux in her former home at Sileby Mill

We had originally thought to take the boat  back to the River Soar and Sileby Mill  boatyard, but the time of year and knowledge of the river made us rethink that plan early in the Spring. That was a good call – we would have struggled not only to get up to the boatyard because navigation has been closed or not advised several times in the past month due to heavy rainfall, trees down and other issues. We could also have struggled to get off the river once work was completed.

So Middlewich was decided upon, situated as it is on a canal, so less prone to sudden fluctuations in water levels. On Monday morning early we set off in mild temperatures and late autumn sunshine for the final 3 locks of our long awaited arrival at the dry dock. Having had a week moored on the edge of the town on the outside of a bend we had an interesting time trying to get off the mooring. Many passing boats out for half term had sent silt our way as they passed us and we were well wedged, requiring some enthusastic shoving with a barge pole!

Up through Big Lock and then into the narrow bottom two locks of the Middlewich Three Locks flight, before we paused in the pound between locks two and three to fill the dry dock, float out the boat that was in there, and take her place through the narrow angled entrance on a bend! Steve ably steered Preaux into the (wet) dry dock at Middlewich for her work to begin.

Cola left the boat before we got into the dry dock fortunately – he would not have made the required leap from the stern to the shore. We offloaded all we thought we needed for a fortnight away once the boat was docked.

We need to leave the boat because the work being done involves cleaning and repainting the sides of the hull with two pack epoxy blacking (to protect the metal for another 4 years), and the water tank needs emptying, opening, cleaning, resealing and we are having a water gauge fitted so we are no longer just guessing how much water we have on board at any point! There are also some welding jobs that need doing, and having now got her out of the water we can see she needs six new anodes. These are sacrifical metal ingots welded to the hull underwater. Electrolysis in the water from boats around corrodes the anode rather than our hull or propellor. Essential but more noughts on the bill.

One corroded anode

I lnow it looks like we took a ridiculous amount of stuff off the boat before we left, but we need clothes, computers, clothes, bedding and food for three of us. We also took the opportunity to take duvets and pillows for cleaning. In planning our time off the boat we have tried to spare the feelings of family. Visitors are lovely but like fish, they can go off after a few days, so we’ve tried to spread ourselves around and not impose too much!

I found a small, ideally placed holiday cottage in the glorious Staffordshire Moorlands bookable for 4 days. It’s near enough to the boat to be able to pop back but not too near to drive the team doing the work up the wall. Our main requirements were a bath and pet allowed! Cottage duly found and we are already both pink and crinkly from long soaks in said bath. Showers are great but it’s a treat to be able to bathe once in a while! The cottage also has wifi but we have brought our portable modem and sim anyway because we will use that for work as we travel.

Autumn colours without reflections for once

After the cottage we move to Leicestershire to celebrate two family birthdays – our superhero is 5 and another family member  slightly older. Then we head north to Yorkshire for more family reunions, before turning south again to stay with more family, and meet up with a valued friend to complete the annual Seagrave Wolds Challenge. This 16ish mile run/walk (often through a lot of mud at this time of the year) across the Leicestershire Wolds is in aid of charity. Last year turned out to be rather more than 16 miles but they assure us this year is slightly under… we shall see! Then it will be back to the boat…hopefully with all work sorted, a new BSS certificate for 4 years and happily afloat once more.

High and dry

We are trying to keep busy to stop worrying about the work and the boat, but always on the end of a phone in case Paul at Middlewch Wharf needs us to query anything, and particularly so he can let us know the outcome of the BSS – Boat Safety (MOT if you like). Some boat safety examiners don’t mind owners hovering around them whilst they check the boat, others prefer to just get on in peace. We’re providing the latter for our examiner this year but still want to know his findings immediately. We aren’t expecting any issues but you never know. The BSS will be carried out next week  when the dry dock work is completed and she’s safely afloat again.

We shall be on tenterhooks until we know the outcome.  

Frustrating politics of being NFA

The political turmoil of the past 10 days let alone the past five months has brought the subject of a General Election to the fore, then it seemed to have receded, reappeared and perhaps by the time you read this it will have receded and reappeared once more. One thing is certain – in order to vote in a General Election we need to ensure we are on the electoral register, also known as the electoral roll.

We always have been avid voters when living in bricks and mortar. We have always voted whenever we could in the UK (only not doing when resident abroad). So now we find ourselves in a different situation – no fixed abode to be precise. It’s a description I am very familiar with – as I news reporter I used to cover Magistrates, Crown and Assises courts when NFA was always given by those appearing before the courts who were living rough. Hearing it applied to us now makes me realise how fortunate we are, living free, untied and yet secure.

It gives us a bit of a problem though in terms of voting. We had stayed on the electoral register for the past few years at our former address which is now let. It seemed the obvious thing to do, and we gave it no though until our tenant suddenly found themselves with council tax issues because we were still on the electoral roll at that address. Hastily we began to resolve the issue – for our tenant but also for us so we could vote in case there should be a General Election before January 2025, the latest one could theoretically take place.

It isn’t as easy as you might think, getting a vote when you are NFA. Getting the form is straightforward if you have access to the internet. But they won’t let you fill it in online, you have to print it off. Fortunately for us a friendly boatyard with a printer was at hand and only too happy to help if we could produce the right form.

Gov.uk offer a choice – Reguster to vote if you haven’t got a fixed or permanent address (England), Register to vote if you haven’t got a fixed or permanent address (Wales) and the equivalent form in Welsh too, or Register to vote if you haven’t got a fixed or permanent address (Scotland). Our mooring time in Wales is minimal, we can only get to Scottish canals sadly by putting the boat on a truck, and realistically we spend most of our cruising time in England, so that’s a clear choice. Two copies of a 5 page form duly printed in English for England.

A Welsh sojourn – taking the boat over the famed Pontycyllte Aqueduct, a Welsh castle and a multilingual sign

We are then helpfully told:

You can use this form to register to vote if you’re either:

  • homeless or have no fixed address
  • a person who has been remanded in custody, but you have not yet been convicted of any offence
  • a patient in a mental health hospital

Hmm…. strange collection of circumstances bringing people to this form then. We are fortunate to have a lovely home, aren’t in custody or in a mental health hospital so no fixed address it is.

Page 1 was easy – name, date of birth, nationality, national insurance number. So far so good… but not for long. Page 2 was where the issues started – much as I remember exam papers from the past!

On the move

Moved house in the last 12 months? Technically yes, I’ve forgotten how many hundred times we’ve moved moorings! Don’t think that’s what they want but the answer is no then if it means bricks and mortar moves. We moved to live afloat several years ago now…So no.

Then How would you like to receive correspondence about your registration?

The choice: Collect from electoral registration office or give an address. We gave an address where all our post goes. Then we were asked “Do you live at another address? Yes or No…. Oh dear. We don’t live at that address but we don’t have another address so what on earth are we supposed to put there? If we lived at that address we would have a fixed address and we wouldn’t be filling in this wretched form!

We said no and moved on…to:

Your address for registration

Please tick ONE statement about your address:

I have no fixed address – please give us the address or place where you spend a large part of your time in Address 1

I am a mental health patient living in a mental health hospital – please give both of the following:

• the name and address of the hospital in which you are being treated in Address 1

• and the address where you would be living if you were not a mental health patient or where you have lived in the past in Address 2

I am a person who has been remanded in custody – please give both of the following:

• the name and address of the place in which you are being detained in Address 1

• the address where you would be living if you had not been remanded in custody or where you have lived in the past in Address 2.

That seemed pretty straightforward in many ways – I have no fixed address had to be it. But then we hit problems because where we spend the largest part of our time is afloat…without an address, the whole reason for needing to fill a form in as NFA. This is beginning to feel like a protracted political deadlock of the frustrating song there’s a hole in my bucket ….

We debate and under address so under I have no fixed address – please give us the address or place where you spend a large part of your time in Address 1 we added Narrowboat, continuously cruising the UK. No street address, no postcode but an honest response. Then thank heavens we can add a mobile number and email address, so hopefully we they will contact us if there are issues…

Next up we decide to go for a postal vote to be on the safe side in case for some reason they allocate us to a constituency we can’t get anywhere near by narrowboat, and finally sign, date and post the forms (one for each of us). Finding an address to post to was a bit of a puzzle but we went for the electoral register office nearest to the postal adress in the end.

Three days later my phone rings – an electoral registration officer. She apologetically explains she really needs an address for us, and can we confirm our situation. We duly explain, as we thought we had in the form, and she says that’s what she thought and it’s all fine. We won’t be on an electoral register under a specific address or on the open register but under ‘other’. They need an address to be able to allocate us to a constituency. Constituency duly allocated and a letter should be awaiting us when we next visit our postal address. We are though now ready for anything politicians throw at us in terms of an election, so that’s an immense relief and requires NFA on our part – no further action!

It got me thinking about how we view labels though, we are NFA (No Fixed Abode) but delightfully so, in fact NFA Now Free, Absolutely.

Learning from other worlds

It was a delight this week to learn of an entire world far removed from the selfishness and greed of UK politics. A world that thrives by connecting, communicating and supporting itself and others, whether they look like it or look differently. I mean the world of… fungi.

An edible bolete (yum)

Going on a foraging course I really didn’t expect to explore the intricate communication networks of mushrooms, their underground chats with each other and with interconnected species like trees. (Don’t just take my word for it – click here)

https://www.foragingcoursecompany.co.uk

This course was a gift, and an absolutely amazing one. The experts don’t always focus on mushrooms – but change topic with the seasons. Autumn though is the perfect time to learn about the plethora of mushrooms that are all around us – delicious and dangerous.

A small poisonous brown roll rim

This was so much more than identifying what to eat to enjoy, what to avoid and where to find them, all packed around a brisk walk, steep scramble and gentle stroll around a former coal mine in Staffordshire.

There are hundreds of different mushrooms here

So rich in mushrooms was the chosen area that at times it was hard to move without squashing those we’d come to see. Learning to use location, sight, smell and key features we began to touch upon how to identify good from bad, edible from inedible, mildly poisonous from positively deadly. I felt I had not been using my senses so fully for decades.

The plethora of species, the colours, the richness on offer seemed mind blowing – quite literally when we really did find a Fly Agaric, a bit battered but clearly identifiable nonetheless.

Its familiar Disneyesque or Super Mario red top with white blob may have spawned the journey into Wonderland for Lewis Carroll’s Alice, producing as it does a lack of spatial awareness. Dangerous as they are to us, they can be of use. Soaking these mushrooms in milk and leaving the milk for flies to drink will prove deadly to flies.

There are many mushrooms that have multiple uses, even if inedible. The razorstrop for example. Specific to birch and totally inedible has multiple uses. Sliced into one inch strips and air dried it makes invaluable kindling. When fresh and new if you peel the skin from the soft underbelly of the fungus it makes a micropore antiviral plaster that sticks to itself and stops blood flow.

As the common name suggests, barbers used to dry the fungus and use it to strop or sharpen razors, combined with its antiseptic properties it was invaluable. Ground down and added in small quantities to hot liquids like tea it can be used as a tonic for the immune system, or in large quantities as an emetic.

Terry Pratchett rightly said “All Fungi are edible. Some fungi are only edible once.” I think from just scratching the surface (literally in the case of the poisonous Yellow Stainer) that it’s not just about safety although that’s obviously pretty important.

Aren’t the names a delight?

There is so much to learn about and from mushrooms – and so much to delight in. We found a positive rainbow of colours from the white of the Horse Mushroom (edible) to the tiny brown Mousseron or Scotch Bonnet found in its fairy rings (edible) but don’t confuse with the Fools Funnel look alike which is poisonous, to the Purple Webcap (see the web and remember it like spiders are inedible) to the Amethyst Deceiver (small but edible), the vivid green Parrot Waxcap (edible), the rare Coral fungus (don’t pick it because it is so rare) and the ever sought delicious Bolete.

It’s another world, one which has been developing and developed for millions of years (enjoy this for a bit more insight). In this day and age it’s good to surround ourselves with things that have longevity… unlike current UK governments.

Accessing services on the move

People often ask how we manage, living as happy narrowboat nomads, to access the services they take for granted like doctors and dentists.

Fortunately we haven’t yet needed anything in an emergency and even more fortunately we are continuous cruisers in the UK with its incredible NHS (something we must fight to protect).

We have kept a postal address. Like many, we have kept a house and for a consideration, our tenant looks after our post. We can’t remain on the electoral role there or our tenant ends up paying increased council tax. We remain registered with a doctor and dentist near there – which was invaluable when I needed referring to a breast cancer clinic last year.

This week though was sorting both our flu jabs and a Covid jab for me. Having succumbed finally to Covid when we were on the Erewash and painfully struggled our way back across the Trent, onto the River Soar whilst sweating and shaking, with each lock mechanism taking ages to wind and every gate taking two of us to move just to get close to services and supplies, we don’t want to go through that again. If the boosters lessen the effects or protect us then we are taking them – whatever they are for! Living a nomadic life you know that prevention is better than cure.

We found we could both get flu jabs at a walk-in van in Nantwich by the memorial and conveniently opposite a rather good bakers. 
There was a queue, friendly, good natured, a but only about 10 minutes long. As one lady put it, “Better that than the flu and it gives me time to nip over and get sausage rolls from Chatwins.”

Steve managed his covid jab some weeks ago at a van on the Stoke on Trent campus of Staffordshire uni folĺowing an email telling him he was eligible. I wasn’t old enough to go with him, fortunately as it turned out, because he nipped into the Students’ Union afterwards and indulged in the worst cup of hot brown water he said he’s had for many a year. I’d have been less than impressed too – liking good coffee as I do!

Enjoying a parkrun in the autumn sunshine in Crewe last Saturday I met two delightful ladies, and heard about a walk-in covid jab centre for anyone over 50 in the town. Only on a Thursday between 10 and 4 was the info, be prepared to queue and don’t get there after 3 or you’ll likely be turned away.

The info was spot on – behind the Baroque splendour of Crewe Town Hall adorned with Frederick Shenk’s elegantly pensive figures, stands the old market hall.

Bereft of stalls and firmly shuttered, it has been taken over by NHS and St John Ambulance efficiently jabbing away, ably aided by RVS volunteers handing out forms and keeping our lengthy queue organised.

Just over an hour later I had been regaled with details of American vaccination politics (Republicans don’t get jabbed but Democrats do apparently), heard that its cheaper to drive to Leigh near Wigan to get fuel and shopping, and been privy to a heated discussion about where to find the cheapest parking in Crewe (there isn’t any), and I was at the front of the queue. Just moments later I had had my dose of Spikevax (I kid you not), administered by another parkrunner as it happens.

Our productively preventative morning saw us home in time for a late lunch – of Chatwins excellent sausage rolls of course!

Looking at the state of government our next urgent priority must be sorting our votes – I’ve got as far as downloading the Electoral registration form for someone with no fixed or permanent abode. All I need now is to get to somewhere I can print off the 10 required pages and then I need to fill them in, send them off and we’ll be ready for a General Election.

Next week- insights into an autumn foraging course! Can’t wait to pass on what I learn.

Stresses and strains of getting certified

We were glad that we weren’t in Birmingham this past week. Can’t imagine our old boat dog would have been too impressed to find a sniffer spaniel checking out our danger level to the Tory party conference. We know of other boaters who did travel through, encountered posses of politicians, had a sniffer dog check out their boat for weapons and experienced armed escorts around the conference centre which adjoins Gas Street Basin.

The Cloud from Ilam Park in the Peak District

For us, it’s been a week to escape the madness and irritation of British politics. A week in part exploring the beauty of the British countryside in all its autumn glory (and autumn weather) some of it away from the boat, and a week when we need to be thinking and planning a clear way forward.

Looking for a nice straight route ahead…

We have some big items on the agenda and big outlays too – firstly our BSS is due in a few weeks. This is our certification under the Boat Safety Scheme, a public safety initiative by the Canal & River Trust and the Environment Agency. It aims to minimise the risk of boat fires, explosions, or pollution to inland waterways, and users of them. It’s not if you like so much about keeping us safe (although it does that too) but it’s about making sure our boat isn’t a danger to others on the towpaths and environment around. It’s the boating equivalent of an MOT and needs to be completed every four years. The requirements are different for private boats and hire boats liveaboards or day boats.

So, our BSS and Gas Safety Certificate is due in November. Without a pass we can’t continue to cruise because we can’t get a boat licence without it. So we need to know what the requirements are so we can check that Preaux meets them – basically it’s about safety of gas, carbon monoxide, fires etc. There are requirements and advice items so there is a high level of interpretation – by us, by the examiner and by the certifying bodies it appears. We also have to find an examiner – you don’t just rock up at 4mph to an examining centre – they come to you. In our case we’re headed to Middlewich and the examiner will meet us there. We think we’ve done everything and got everything ready but like an MOT we are able to get someone else to check the boat over against the list of requirements before the examiner comes on board. We’ve allowed enough time to get work done if needed before the examination. The aim is to have a single examination and pass it first time (but there always seems to be a bit of fingers crossed…).

Squeezing trunking behind shower panels

In the meantime Steve’s rewiring the water pump which demands taking cabling from the junction box right at the back of the boat to almost the front of the boat. This means channelling through the bedroom, behind the shower, through the bathroom, through every kitchen cupboard, behind the sofa bed and geneally disrupting everything. The aim is to remove the ancient wiring which looks pretty unsavoury and whilst probably safe replace it with some which is definitely safe. That will be completed by the time the BSS comes round, and at the same time as the BSS work we’re also going to sort the water tank.

Loyal readers who’ve been with us from the start of this journey may remember leaks when full. It still leaks when full and will continue to do so until we remove the entire tank lid which is rusted on. The lid needs to be drilled off and then we think it needs turning the right way as it appears to be on upside down (no idea how a huge steel lid can have been put on upside down but hey ho… anyone with an old house or old boat knows you discover fixes that often always remain a mystery as to how they could possibly have come about).

Mopping round the rusted top of the water tank which should be flush not proud

In lockdown 2 (yup way back then) we thought we had sprung a leak in the bow but discovered it was caused by the leaking water tank. We’ve worked out how to mop out and manage the situation but now we’re aiming on resolving the issue and at the same time emptying, cleaning and checking the tank, as well as installing a gauge of some sort so we actually know how much water we have. We reckon on roughly 3 weeks between fills but we are now running a washing machine and that means we are using more water than we did, even if it’s using than a laundrette machine would.

So with all this uncertainty and activity currently sloshing about in our lives (it’ll all be over by mid November) it’s been great just to soak up the beauty of Autumn for a few days before we get our heads down to the grindstone of getting lists ticked off and keeping fingers crossed until the examiner says we have passed for another four years.

We’ve also depleted the savings and resolved a looming winter fuel cost too with a bulk buy – thanks for the use of a garage to store a tonne of coal Mum!

Makes us feel warm all over seeing this lot!