We float peacefully into yet another year in a world overshadowed by conflict, disputes and environmental threats. Sometimes it can seem that there is little we can do but we do all have a chance to reflect and reset our personal compasses for the year ahead to make a difference.
Aboard nb Preaux we’re thinking of how we can move gently and reflectively into 2023
Smile – at each other, with strangers, and inside.
Laugh more – at the ridiculous, the just daft, and make each other laugh. We will laugh at the leak from the water tank when we’ve finally sorted it out!
Offer to do more for others whether you know them or not.
Welcome the chance to do new things, take new routes through life. Welcome the challenges as chances to learn and grow.
Savour life and remember simple is fundamental – a good use of our time and other precious resources. Simply living in the moment allows us to appreciate what we have.
Listen and learn more from the world and those around us. Everyone has something to teach us.
Observe the ways of the past, of nature, that can teach us much about how to live better.
Wonder at the world – if we learn how wonderful it truly is, we can’t do anything but seek to preserve it
Share with others the good times and bad, the times of plenty and poverty
Learn to live your life as you want but without hurting anyone or anything
Opt for the positive in everything
Waste nothing – reuse, recycle and reduce consumption. Remember waste not want not… and that goes for my wool stash too which is sadly low after Christmas creations so if anyone has any wool gathering dust we can offer it a good home onboard!
A fraction of this year’s knitting meditation!
We’re taking on the annual winter closures and going with the flow, heading for the Ashby Canal now before planning trips south to Weedon, north to Ripon and west to Lancaster. On the way it’ll be slow – slow living, slow running and determined slow enjoyment of everything around us.
Wherever we go, we will be embracing a SLOW life in 2023. We wish you and yours the chance to experience the value of slow in the coming year.
We’re very aware this year particularly, of how strange a time of the year this is – so joyous and with plenty for many, which makes it appear even harder, more lonely and more lacking for many others.
We know we are hugely fortunate to celebrate this week with family and loved ones. We’re also very lucky to have caught up with good neighbours in the boating community who will look after our boat whilst we are away for the immediate Christmas time. We wish everyone the security and joy good neighbours bring.
If your Christmastime is less joyful, if there is an empty place beside you which you long to fill, or if health and happiness seem impossible, then we hope you can remember good times. We send you our best wishes to cheer you and a view of the nativity party turning green in sight of our mini modern tree!
The thaw came in time to give us the festive gift of a chance to move in winter sun and beautiful new views. We really do have chestnuts to roast on the fire, swans and geese entertaining us along with duck visitors daily and are aware how much we have to be grateful for.
We’ve learned much this year. Our patience has been tested (Steve’s is well honed – mine less so!). We’ve had our belief in the beauty of the waterways reinforced by another year afloat.
Nature has been a constant, a consolation and a delight. The beauty to be found around us every day in every situation every season and every weather has been uplifting and we hope it can be a gift for you too, this Christmas.
If you’re searching for the best way of spending Christmas Eve then the Icelandic tradition of Jolabokaflod probably can’t be bettered in any circumstances. Everyone indulges in a book and chocolate – two joyful and readily available things we always insist on having in abundance on the boat. *As well as knitting or crochet on the go for me!
On that note Gleðileg Jól! We will be reading map books this Christmas trying to work our where to travel next year, along with the CRT winter closures to see when we can actually get to wherever we select!
We can only wonder what delights and disasters, mayhem and magical moments await? We definitely know there will be some of each and look forward to sharing them with you all!
P.S. Santa’s had to come a little early to rescue us from flooded bilges after we filled up the water tank! On the plus side…our home hasn’t sunk and we now have a new pump with lots of piping!
Our floating home and office is currently trapped in rural Staffordshire with us inside. We are quite literally frozen solid in the canal, unable to move because of thick ice.
To move would damage the blacking that protects the steel hull, and we’ve only just had the boat reblacked. That’s a regular maintenance job every few years but if we can make the blacking last as long as possible, that’s good.
Ice around us is thick. The red flecks are paint from our tunnel band scraped by the ice.
Moving through ice can also put the engine under considerable strain which could be costly, and send thick sheets of ice to hit other boats and damage them. This is a particular issue if fibreglass boats are involved. So we sit tight when it’s like this, and wait for the thaw.
In the days when canals were essential commercial thoroughfares with barges transporting everything from cheese to coal and wool to Wedgwood China, canals freezing over had huge economic impacts. Keeping traffic moving was vital to keep factories and furnaces operating. Ice breakers were employed rapidly. Now you can see them as exhibits at canal centres like Foxton or museums or a few have been converted into floating homes.
Rocking the boat to break the ice
The early ice breakers were made of wood with iron plates nailed to the hull. They were horsedrawn – as the ice got thicker more horse power was added. Some records talk of up to 16 horses hauling a single ice breaker through the cut in bad weather. Whilst the horses were pulling the crew were rocking – literally. Up to 10 people stood on the boat and gripped a metal rail in the centre as they rocked it from side to side to create waves that shattered the ice. It was an incredibly dangerous job. Boats could and did tip over, trapping the crew.
These days there are no ice breakers unless you count the coal boats carrying essential warmth in terms of diesel, gas, logs and smokeless fuel to boats across the network. When the ice is too thick even they can’t get through and some have been forced to deliver gas logs and coal by road but not every boater is easily road accessible.
The Staffordshire and Worcestershire Canal where we are moored began to freeze at the end of last week. Initially the ducks were alternately swimming and skating but over the weekend the freeze began.
The boat feels different when iced in and we’re particularly aware of that at night when everything is quiet. It groans and creaks against the ice. As we move around on board the boat doesn’t rock as it usually does but stays oddly stationary. Other sounds also change. We’ve had the thud of icicles dropping onto our metal roof from trees above.
The swans and ducks have stopped knocking on the hull for food or nibble off any clinging weed. In fact by the time the canal iced over completely they have effectively disappeared. Presumably they’ve removed themselves to somewhere with a ready natural food supply and less ice.
Minor thawing during the day has happened a couple of times but only in areas that got the sun, and by 5 in the afternoon any melted water was refreezing. The thawing and refreezing leads to changing patterns in the ice which can be quite beautiful close up.
We have a major advantage being frozen this week as we have the car with us. That means life becomes instantly much easier. We can shop more easily. The nearest convenience store is 1.8miles from our landlocked location, which is not a bad walk but a slippery one at the moment With the car we can get to a supermarket and manage a larger, cheaper shop.
Having the car also means we can access the service point to empty our toilet and rubbish too despite being unable to move the boat. Covid laid us low in the summer and also encouraged us to buy another toilet cassette so, if the worst came to the worst, we could now last for a week with both of us on board without a crisis. Like all boaters we do use facilities when out and about to avoid filling up our own! Another positive of having the car with us – supermarkets have loos but convenience stores tend not to!
A pumpkin appears to be frozen into the canal!
We topped up the diesel in Nantwich in September when we last saw Jay on coalboat Bargus and we haven’t done huge mileage since as we had 2 weeks in dock for work. That means we have fuel to run the engine for a few hours every day to top up the batteries and keep us in power as we’re not getting much solar at the moment. One advantage of the weather though is that we don’t need to power the fridge which uses the most electricity of any of our devices – we just keep things frozen and chilled by putting them in the cratch or outside!
We have plenty of fuel for the stove which is going 24/7 and keeping us delightfully and vitally warm inside the boat. We restocked supplies three weeks ago.
Fortunately we filled our water tank completely before we moved here 2 weeks ago. That’s a relief because water is very heavy to carry and we only have two 5litre bottles to fill. Water pipes on the system are also causing problems freezing and bursting. In many cases. We are seeing regular updates from Canal and River Trust about frozen pipes and repairs across the network. The freeze is keeping them busy and we’re grateful to their staff for working hard in su h gruelling conditions.
For now, we sit tight, keep the stove lit and walk the dog only on a lead, much to his annoyance. He loves sniffing at the canal edge of the towpath. Being in his 15th year he’s a bit wobbly and the last thing we want is for him to fall onto and through the ice, so lead walks it is. He, like us, will be glad when it thaws, and then we can continue our journey even though we have no idea where we’re heading.
We’re pointing north so once we’re free that’s the way we’ll head!
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Pickingupducks 