Pickingupducks

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.

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.

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.

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!

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.

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)

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.

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.

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…).

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!

Under the weather

The Autumn equinox and Michaelmas Day this past week have shepherded us fully into Autumn. The winds are blowing the leaves from the trees and days of rain are swelling our waterways once more. We can only hope none of this water bounty is being wasted and reservoirs are gradually filling once more.

The return of rain after such a long dry summer seems a novelty still, and there was another momentous change for us this week too. For the first time since the pandemic struck I found myself working face to face. This wasn’t a return in any gradual way – no spacious eating with just a few people – nope, this was to an event in a theatre with large auditorium yes, but also lots of compact dressing rooms, and a VIP reception providing big and small spaces to come face to face with many strangers.

I arrived amid squalls of rain which blustery gusts made sure left me dripping. Introducing myself to colleagues I’ve only ever worked with online was a damp experience. We had all formed mental pictures of each other and somehow seemed surprised that we were taller/shorter than expectations. Everyone seemed taken aback by the weather, and I was taken aback by their lack of weather awareness. Many seemed unaware that rain had been forecast, had moved from their homes to cars, to car park and then to venue without experiencing the elements. Even their cars turned their windscreen wipers on, so they didn’t have to consciously do that.

It struck me that weather watching, adapting life to what the weather brings is a fundamental difference between boat dwellers and many others. If I was working with others whose jobs and lives are shaped by the weather like for example farmers or fisherman, I might not stand out so much.

We boaters though are aware of the weather, prepared to adapt, ready to reach for the waterproofs at a moment’s notice. We evaluate showers as coat only or waterproof trousers too, demanding we don the lightweight showerproof or the full force foulies.

Living amid the elements so closely as we do seems to make us more attune to the numerous times a day that the weather changes.

I write this to the accompaniment of pattering rain falling on the canal from the skies above with deeper splatters as drops are shaken into the water from the trees opposite by suddenly noisy buffeting winds. Behind the dripping high hedge there’s a lane running parallel to the towpath. Cars which we wouldn’t notice in fine weather now wetly herald their approach and huge splashes that follow as they pass indicate some localised flooding.

Earlier today the same sky that’s now a dull shade of grey was pink, yellow and red streaming from an orange sun. It was beautiful. We boaters learn too to live in, and appreciate the moment.

We knew that it would turn. We had checked the weather forecast online as we always do, and besides that sunrise clearly told us ‘red in the morning, shepherds warning.’ The weather helps us decide what to do, and how to live.

This week we need a moving day, a day when we move on from this mooring to find another. The maximum we can stay on this mooring spot is 14 days, which will take us to the start of next week, as we have work to do next week.

Before work we want to be settled in our new location with the WiFi signal checked and working well. That means we need to move before Sunday. Friday was an option but the forecast suggested we would have a wet and windy journey, so we look to choose a day when it is at least dry.

Particularly so as we’ve had a coat saga. I’ve spent the last two weeks trying to mend my disreputable looking by waterproof coat.. the zip gave way at the end of the Spring when put under strain as I stepped up to climb across a lock. It then refused to stay zipped up. I dismantled the zip, recrossed the zipper and put it all back together again. That didn’t work. I resorted to an old leather belt cynched round the waist – held the coat shut in part but the rain still snuck in through many now-accessible spots. The cost for a replacement zip to be fitted seems more than a new coat. I have put the coat on one side to await the next visit to family with a sewing machine when hopefully I can borrow a machine and install a new zip myself.

In the meantime we will move in the dry. If we do get caught in a sudden squall we can at least enjoy the sheer sensual pleasure of sitting and working from our floating home by the warmth of the wood burner which is now lit, and it’s cooking a casserole too. We’ve got the fire lit to keep us warm and dry clothes and dog so that fuel can work twice for us and save gas too.

It also means it’s cosy for me to sort seeds for Seed Swap Sunday and if we feel like it, feel pampered for another day we found marked on the Milton Keynes Rose which maybe relevant (or not!)!!!

Talking shop

People often ask about shopping… usually as we’re going through locks and they stop to watch, or via the blog (thanks Martine) or as we moor in what seems the middle of nowhere and they walk past with their dogs.

There’s always a wicked (or wistful) temptation to say we live from the woods and fields around us but although we do forage mushrooms, berries and fruits mainly, we certainly couldn’t live on what we pick. (Although we do end up drinking quite a bit of foraged delights!).

Elderflower cordial nearly all used up from June and Spiced elderberry gin steeping for Christmas

It’s the standard shops for us that everyone uses but we do have the advantage that we are shopping local most of the time. Some boaters get supermarket deliveries to bridges or mooring points, but we’ve never seen the need for that yet.

Google maps supplements the canal maps (which is a good thing as some of our physical canal maps are 20+ years old and a weeny bit out of date), and online canal plans. That way we can see what’s coming up or around where we are moored, and then it’s on with the backpack stuffed with extra bags and a walk with the dog to the nearest shop.

This week I’ve kept track of our shopping habits as we’ve travelled from the Black Country out through Shropshire’s sandstone cuttings and into Cheshire with its rolling vistas and dairy cows.

There was the mile walk from the mooring at the Dudley Canal and Tunnel museum to an Aldi on the edge of Dudley – ideal for restocking with what we could carry. Now having a fridge on board makes it much easier to keep food and we don’t need to shop as often. The small freezer section within it helps keep food longer too.

We combined a morning dog walk of a couple of a miles into Brewood (pron. Brood) from a mooring amid the noisiest owls we’ve heard for a long time. Whenever one of us woke in the night we could hear the tawny owls calling from the pine trees on one side of the canal to friends in the oaks on the other. They kept up a delightfully conversational natter through, it seemed, much of the night. Our shopping trip from their home took us along towpaths with trips to the shops, finding footpaths on the way back as we returned with milk, bread and a happy dog.

Sometimes we support local producers through farmers markets or regular weekly markets but this was a week unlike many others because of the Queen’s funeral, so many suspended their normal routines. Market places stood solemnly empty as a result.

Market Drayton silent and still on Monday for the Queen’s funeral

The lock flight at Audlem, 15 locks taking us down 93ft, come with a real treat we know. Going up it’s a reward for labour, going down it’s a collection of treats at the top to form rewards when we’ve finished. It’s a farm stall with delicious homemade pies, pastries, cakes, scones, ice creams and they even do drinks for walkers.

We see many people walking the 3-mile out and back from Audlem, visiting the stall, and enjoying their goodies at the picnic benches by the second lock down before heading back to the village. The stall is at the edge of a large mixed but mainly dairy farm, outside a newish built house. This is the home of the now retired farmers, their children and grandchildren now living in the original farmhouse and running the farm. Retirement in rural farming life doesn’t mean relaxation fortunately so the stall with its honesty box is stocked daily. They also take cards!

Goodies from there kept us going deliciously in treats and a meal or two for a couple of days. Almost at the bottom of the Audlem flight we found desserts for several days more!

Then into Nantwich and a chance for restocking with heavy goods like tins. That resulted in a bit of weight training and the odd collapsing bag – all in the torrential rain! Steve also took a trip to Screwfix ( a 4-mile walk but he is a dedicated Screwfix user like so many boaters!).

What luck – the best surfaced towpath to carry shopping in the rain

Before we leave Nantwich where we will be for some time now, we have coalboat Bargus calling with diesel for us (119litres, £158.27 and 2 slices of bread for a sandwich!).

We will be fetching our car for a week as we have family commitments to meet and work in Buckinghamshire at un-train-friendly times/locations. While we have the car we will restock heavy bulky shopping and then move on once more without wheels. We restocked with gas from coalboat Roach when we were the other side of Birmingham and are burning the fuel we didn’t use last winter.

Amazon orders can be delivered to collection boxes or local shops en route if required and bigger locations provide shopping trip opportunities which become highlights on this life where the journey is the delight as well as the destinations!

Another year not living for weekends & still afloat

Another year afloat has passed and it’s fascinating to see the difference between this year and last. Last year we dashed to live aboard just after lockdown 1 lifted so we contended with two lockdowns afloat that meant we had two periods of not being able to move – 4 weeks of lockdown 2 on the Ashby Canal in a marina, and 14 weeks of lockdown 3 on the Trent & Mersey Canal at Willington in Derbyshire. This year we’ve been able to continuously cruise all year.

That’s made quite a difference – we’ve cruised 1,235 miles and 2 furlongs this year compared to 697 miles last year. It’s meant more workouts too operating 95 moveable bridges this year compared to 58 last year and 948 locks this year compared to 522 last year. Tardebigge is the longest flight of locks in the country – 30 and we completed that with the help of a friend (thanks Kat) this year. We’ve taken in broad canals (width in locks for 2 narrowboats together) narrow canals, large rivers and small rivers.

Our travels took us south to London to moor in Little Venice for Steve to successfully run the London Marathon from the boat, and off into Wales this year, encompassing 29 canals, sections and branches. We’ve taken in 31 tunnels travelling 15.5 miles underground in total – that’s more tunnels but less distance underground than last year (24 tunnels and 19 miles).

A major difference between this year and last has been the opportunity to share time with family and friends. That has been a delight I’m sure everyone is appreciating. It’s been a major plus for us when they come and take the tiller or help with all those locks, and at Easter two of the family (thanks Freya and Jonny) helped us revolutionise life aboard completely – with the addition of a washing machine! Getting it on board wasn’t easy but they did it, and Steve’s alterations to the electrical system, the wardrobe (where it lives), and the main bed (which had to be shortened by 1cm) worked brilliantly. We also have a new replacement cratch cover which keeps everything there dry (unlike the old one), and will really come into its own in winter.

New cover measured, made, fitted in 24 hrs

With friends, we took in another of the amazing wonders of the waterways this year too, the river in the sky that is the Pontcysyllte Aqueduct, a world heritage site. We steered the boat on the Llangollen canal, on water held in a cast iron trough suspended 126 feet above the River Dee, by 18 hollowed masonry pillars.

There are still two wonders for us to explore, the Anderton Boat Lift in Cheshire which we have seen on foot but won’t be able to travel until at least 2023 because it has mechanical issues, and at the other end of the network the Caen Hill flight of 16 locks in Wiltshire.

The cost of living is something which is occupying most of us right now, and we are no exception. Costs have risen – our boat licence which allows us to travel the waterways managed by Canal and River Trust has risen from £880 to £908 and is due to rise again shortly by another 4%. Our energy costs (diesel for electricity, hot water and propulsion, gas for cooking, and coal for warmth and cooking), Living afloat we get no Government cost of living support payment.

We’ve spent an additional £3 a week on diesel so far, and the gas costs have risen by 34% this year. We haven’t bought coal yet this year as we still had coal left from last year’s stock to burn but we know the cost has risen significantly. I predict much more foraging for wood, and we’re trying to see if we can both fund a large lump sum and find somewhere to store a tonne of coal for this year. A bulk buy of a tonne can save up to £400.

The solar Steve installed last year has more than paid for itself now. We’ve recouped 137.65% of the installation costs in the year, saving £417.71 in diesel and that’s given us 84 solar kilowatt hours of free energy – bliss! It’s also contributed to 180 less running hours of the engine.

Workwise we are earning enough beer money. We refurbished one rental house when it came vacant and relet it whilst still refurbishing which was great. Deena has work coming in and projects on the go which keeps her ticking over and with the help of a wonderful boaters group and YouTube has mastered crochet at last! She’s also won awards in two photographic competitions.

So another year afloat draws to a close having brought snow, hail, rain, ice, winds in the form of Storms Dudley, Eunice and Franklin (fortunately our only loss was a doormat but it was weird to feel seasick as waves appeared on the canal!). We’ve encountered frozen canals and boiled in temperatures that have risen into the 40s.

Steve joined the Mermaid Club (apparently so named) in the early part of the year with a fall from the boat into the freezing waters at Whaley Bridge on the Peak Forest Canal. He damaged his ribs and a knee in the process and took a couple of months to recover. In June after avoiding Covid for so long, we were both struck down with it and it took us time to get over it but recover we have.

Cola too needed a dental operation (about the cost of a year’s coal) but even at 14+ years old in dog years he’s recovered well. The times of being unwell were the low points of the year but yet again the daily delights of wildlife encounters and living slowly have more than made up for them.

We’ve also had an abundance of highlights this year including:

Steve completing the London Marathon
Deena’s cancer scare being just a scare
The WASHING MACHINE
The new CRATCH COVER – measured, made and fitted in just 24 hrs by kinver Canopies
Fabulous holidays staying with and seeing family in Cornwall and Settle
Helping erect a Peace Pole in Leicester
Helping Forces Afloat – an amazing charity
Playing the Blisworth Tunnel Blues for its inaugural performance in the tunnel
Spending irreplaceable time with family and friends

We have our Boat Safety Certificate test due again in November (nail biting – should be OK but it’s like an MOT for boats and who knows if we’ve interpreted the requirements as an inspector will).

Then where next? No ideas yet and we need to look at the winter stoppages list to work out where we can do. This coming year we’d like to discover the Caldon, Rochdale and the Lancaster Canals but there’s no rush at 4mph and we’ll carry on just taking life as it comes!

Our experience of an historic week

Living afloat we sometimes feel apart from the world, separated from hustling bustling life by our slower, quieter pace.

This week we too have watched as history unfolds before us, with the passing of our Queen and accession of King Charles III.

We heard the news of the that the Queen was unwell on the radio via BBC Sounds on my phone. It seemed such an uncharacteristic announcement we knew it must be serious and kept listening until the early evening announcement of her death. We then went to a pub nearby to watch the television coverage.

Sitting there in a pub named after King Charles II, we heard the news of King Charles III’s accession. We watched the crowds arrive outside the Royal palaces, and walked somberly home in the embrace of darkness.

On Friday I was working from the boat discussing with colleagues, as so many others were, how we should respectfully mark the Queen’s death and period of mourning. It is a new situation for us all, a time of many changes and much uncertainty. Seeking put and implementing protocols developed for the occasion was the order of the day. I also enjoyed a marmalade sandwich for lunch of which I feel the Queen and Paddington would have approved.

Steve shared a different aspect of public mourning, travelling as he was, off the boat.

Change will now be a continuous theme for some time – our currency passports, stamps and for us, the beautiful swans with whom we share our daily life. Most of us know that Queen Elizabeth II technically owned all the unclaimed swans in open waters in England and Wales – now they will be the King’s swans.

Technically he also owns all whales, sturgeon, dolphins and propoises under a 1324 statute made by King Edward II . Fortunately I don’t think we’ll encounter any of them on the Grand Union, particularly as we’re almost in the very centre of England now.

I have once again been hugely grateful for the peace and reflective calm being on the water brings, for the quiet and peace to think, reflect on a life so full of duty and service, to feel gratitude and to mourn uninterrupted, for calm in which to process the momentous change which we knew was coming one day but which still feels sudden. It makes me reflect on how much calm and quiet are essential to us all and our wellbeing, particularly at turbulent times.

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