When fight is the only option…

Sometimes fear of the unknown is far worse than the reality – sometimes it just doesn’t prepare you for the reality in life and on canals.

Fight or flight is not an option on the famous or infamous Wigan Flight. In this instance, you have to fight to keep going…and going…and going…

Looking back to the spires of Wigan

I am sure Wigan is a wonderful place. After all, Wallace and Gromit live here at 62 West Wallaby Street, Uncle Joe’s Mint Balls are produced here, and the long list of notable people who herald from the town include many comedians including George Formby, famed for his musical humour. I particularly mention Formby because he married one Beryl Ingham, and we are Inghams, so it’s good to find a connection, however tenuous!

Wigan is famed for mills, music and coal. At the peak of the mining industry over 1,000 pit shafts were being worked within five miles of the town centre. The canal was originally planned not to go through the town, but to have an arm heading off to Wigan on its route from Leeds to Liverpool. The Industrial Revolution saw the power of the mill owners change the course of history and the canal. It put Wigan on the main line map, because of its importance in supplying Lancashire coal and textiles to the major cities.

Today’s Wigan is very different now. Wigan Pier, a canalside wharf made famous by two Georges – Forby and Orwell, as a joke and an area of inhuman conditions, has become a tourist attraction as a heritage centre. The mills and mines have, like the commercial boats which plied the waterway, now gone. In many places the railways were the death knell of the commercial canals but for the Leeds Liverpool it was the roads. Until the First World War the canal was operating busily but traffic then moved onto the roads. The last regular commercial canal traffic here, from Plank Lane colliery to Wigan power station only stopped in 1972.

Artwork over the years en route

The top nine locks of the Wigan flight were dominated in their day by the vast Wigan Coal and Iron Company which employed 10,000 people at the works here. The huge blast furnances and coking ovens are gone but the canal infrastructure which supported the business remains. Its locks built in 1816 have dominated our thoughts and life this week.

The Wigan Flight even has its own Facebook page with invaluable advice. It’s also a place for boaters to seek others willing to help them up and down the infamous series of locks. People apparently come from all over the place to spend time getting involved with the canal to help others but in the wind and torrential rain of Thursday this week these individudals were sensibly tucked up elsewhere. We encountered one boat who had been moored part way, but mainly dog walkers, cyclists and at the top a boater preparing to go down the next day who helped with the final gate.

From personal experience, with 23 locks to tackle climbing over 210 feet in less than 2 steep miles, Wigan isn’t somewhere I would readily recommend for a wet and windy day out! However we did 20 locks of Heartbreak Hill in one day (the Cheshire Locks) but they were narrow locks, and they were more spread out, allowing me to get on the boat for a cuppa or the loo en route. Here there are 21 wide locks grouped together on the Wigan stretch of the longest canal in Britain, the Leeds Liverpool canal. To get onto the flight from where we had moored on the Leeds Liverpool Leigh branch, which connects Wigan to Manchester via the private Bridgewater Canal, we had another 2 locks to add on. Hence our 23!

First of two locks on the Leigh Branch of the Leeds Liverpool canal coming into Wigan

Dating from 1816, the flight of locks which took the boats out of and into Wigan, to and from the Pennines, climb over 210 feet in around 2 linear miles. Unlike some famous flights of locks, they aren’t constructed in a clean line that allows you to see from top to bottom to know easily how far you have come, and how far you have to go. The Wigan Flight curves around the local contours which means its easy to lose track of where you are and how many you’ve completed as well as how many are left to tackle.

The locks are wide locks – they will take 2 boats side by side going up or down, but they will only accommodate boats of up to 60ft long. We are 50ft so no problem for us, but it puts this route to the North of England out of bounds for many larger boats.

Every single lock consists of gates on balance beams which need pushing open and two sets of paddles – ground paddles at the top of the lock, and gate paddles in the big gates. Both of these paddles are opened and closed manually using with a windlass (a handle which slots onto the spindle of the paddle). On the Wigan Flight there is the added delight of needing a handcuff key for every single paddle, so somewhere in the wet windy blur of Thursday I unlocked (or tried to unlock and failed in three instances) and relocked 132 anti vandal locks (the handcuff key releases these locks). When I failed to get it to unlock we had to make do with emptying or filling the locks with the limited paddles I could operate, which obviously took longer.

Operating the handcuff key

Because these are wide locks, in some instances very deep, and with limited mooring points on the stretches between the locks (called pounds) we split our roles into tiller and lock operator. Steve is far better able to keep the boat safer in strong winds, bywashes which knock you off course, and judging the water flows into the deep locks so he drew the short straw (as I see it) of tiller. I was lock operator for the day, and really this is a flight which needs completing in a single stint. There is a possibility to pause part way but it’s not recommended.

So armed with my big girl pants, rubbery gloves from @Middlewich Wharf for grip, a windlass, and for the first time a windlass holster which we bought from @cruisingcrafts on Lady Brian just before we left our mooring near Pennington Flash, I set off. You can tell what I forgot – the handcuff key, so having set off to prepare the first lock I was kicking my heels until Steve, the dog and the boat arrived with the handcuff keys aboard for me to unlock the lock!

Topped with my Drizabone oiled hat (which the family call my safari look), wishing for safari weather!

Clad in my newly purchased ex-Met Police waterproof coat which I hoped would keep me dry and perhaps combined with my handcuff key, keep trouble-makers at bay – I set off! The coat did prove waterproof but having to raise my arms above elbow height at most locks to operate the windlass I soon discovered the cuffs were a bit big for my wrists and the rain just ran straight down, soaking the lining in minutes… Fortunately keeping on the move for 7 hours kept me warm, and trotting back and forth meant I completed a half marathon on the flight!

Bywash, lock, pound, lock, pound etc.etc.

Within a few locks I ended up on flight control autopilot – which went like this:

  1. check lock level
  2. if you can open bottom gate,open it (this only happened once) so unlock gate paddle
  3. raise first bottom gate paddle
  4. cross the lock
  5. raise second bottom gate paddle to empty lock. When level’s right…
  6. open one gate (fortunately Steve can bring our boat in on a single gate, significantly reducing the time and effort of opening and closing these big wide lock gates – yet another reason it’s better to have him on the tiller at times like these!)
  7. when the boat’s coming in, cross the lock to close paddle 1, relock
  8. recross the lock to close paddle 2, relock
  9. when the boat’s in – close gate
  10. go to the head of the lock
  11. unlock the ground and gate paddles on that side
  12. operate the ground paddle watching (or if too deep to see him – listening) for signals/shouts from tillerman Steve about flow and currents
  13. cross to the other side of the lock (ground paddles first and then gate paddles)
  14. unlock that side’s ground and gate paddles
  15. operate ground paddle watching for Steve’s directions as he’ll probably be in sight by now
  16. operate gate paddle
  17. cross back to the other side of the lock
  18. operate gate paddle
  19. when the level is right, open gate
  20. as boat moves out, close gate and ground paddles and lock them both
  21. close gate behind boat
  22. cross to the other side
  23. close gate and ground paddle and lock them both
  24. move onto the next lock
  25. repeat 23 times!

As you can see, the mechanisms aren’t all the same either so each lock brings a bit of excitement and often a new challenge. Many of the locks have had to be braced because over time they have suffered with the subsidence that is a destructive legacy of mining in this area, and this can impact how they operate. It was a workout without having to go anywhere near a gym!

I still managed to forget the order occasionally in a soggy blur but fortunately a yell from the eagle-eyed tillerman brought me back in line! I am sure others can do all this more rapidly but this routine worked for me. It got us from the bottom to the top. It sounds quite straightforward looking at it written down, but some paddles are difficult to turn, some gates take a lot of opening, and sometimes there are problems with gates not shutting when they should.

Shut pub – such a sad sign

The inn at the top used to offer a certificate to boaters achieving the flight but it stands empty and forlorn with a Pub to Let sign in the window. So no certificate or pints for us but the relief of making it to the top.

We used the services there, filled up with water, emptied the loo and the bins and prepared to enjoy a much-needed shower. The advantage of a shower in the services is that you can luxuriate in as much hot water as you like without worrying the tank will run dry. Except of course, this had turned into an endurance event for us and not an experience, so the showers were out of use! Quick hot shower in the boat to warm up and lighting the stove for warmth and to dry out our sopping clothes was another treat instead.

In different weather or sharing the journey with other boats, the experience would have been very different. As it was it became an endurance effort and an experience that will stay with us as one which proves our resilience, ability to overcome and reinforces yet again our partnership in this new worklife balance we have chosen for ourselves. We’ve shared another experience together.

We had two casualties en route – Steve’s phone gave up because it got too wet and a wine glass launched itself from the shelves at some point, conveniently into the sink which saved too much clearing up! Steve’s phone died because when we got to the top he set off for a 5-mile walk in the rain to fetch the car. It’s been fantastic having it this week to catch up with family and friends. However his walk turned into a 6.6mile mystery tour so he had to keep checking the map en route.

Now though, it’s on climbing still towards Chorley, Blackburn, Burnley, Colne and into the rural remote navigation through Salterforth, Barnoldswick and Rainhall. We can but hope the rain doesn’t come with us all that way – our feathered neighbours aren’t the only ones with webbed feet and the rooftop garden is washing away! Greenberfield marks the summit of our climb and then it’s downhill to Leeds via Skipton, Keighley, Bingley, Saltaire and Apperley Bridge.

I hope it’ll be a long time before I see Wigan again – and that the weather’s better when I do!

4Cs for better mental health

It’s been a rollercoaster Mental Health Week for us, and one which has led me to reflect on the 4Cs – choice, control , consideration and compassion. Armed with these we can try to make life easier for ourselves and just as importantly, make life easier for those with whom we live and work.

Choice

If you voted last week, you exercised your electoral choice. If you opt to hug your family next week Boris says you’ll be making a choice based on science and consideration for those you love.

The pandemic has brought into stark relief what it means to have choice. Choices about things we’d never have even given a second thought to before last year – going out, staying in, hugging loved ones, getting a hair cut, seeing friends and family, going on holiday, and many more.

Just a few of the things that help me keep on an even keel

The opportunity to think more clearly about the choices we make means we have perhaps become more aware of the little choices of life. Things that seemed a drag once, like what to have for dinner, became really important during the pandemic. We also became very aware that for some poverty curtailed choice.

Control

That leads into the second C – control. What to eat and when, was something many of us could choose, something we had control of at a time control and choice was being removed from us by the virus and how politicians were managing it. Choosing to donate to essential foodbanks, or to support others in multiple ways was an option we took to help others regain choice and control in their lives.

I’ve been reflecting on choice and control particularly this week because it seems so apparent to me that having choice and control removed makes us much more aware of how precious they are. During full lockdowns we couldn’t move. We sat on our boat and recognised that within the narrow parameters of food and exercise, we had little choice. We didn’t worry about who to see or where or when because we couldn’t. It was a form of isolation that reduced choice, and at the same time liberating. It made me realise that choice and control can lead to stress. Choices demand decisons and decisions are difficult things. They lead us to wonder if we’re making the right choice or the wrong choice, if there’s a better way, if we’re making a choice too quickly, too hastily.

We all need propping up some time – it’s just a fact

Choice and control have the potential to inspire, to motivate, to liberate us and to challenge us. Whether it’s trying to decide who to see, where to see them and to hug or not to hug, or whether to return to working in the office (if you have a choice), or whether to travel abroad, the lockdown lifting gives us all challenging choices to make. If we feel that control is being imposed upon us or that we are losing control, even of small things like what time we take a coffee break, go for a walk, decide to eat our meals.

Part of what makes us the individuals we are, are the choices we make and the control we exercise in our own lives. Marcia Baxter Magolda developed a theory about self-authorship, the ways in which we each have the potential to develop and direct our lives. One major aspect of that is about how we each develop our own identity that guides our choices. Drawing on our beliefs, values and loyalties, our past experiences and crucially our mistakes, we determine a way forward which we feel is right for ourselves. In turn that supports how happy or fulfilled we feel which supports our mental health.

“It is our choices that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities.”

J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the chamber of secrets

The lockdown restrictions led to huge mental health issues for some created by so many factors. The stress of being prevented from seeing friends, of being on furlough, working from home, losing jobs, and that’s just about each of us as an individual, the potential for more stresses and depression to multiply when one takes into account the impact the pandemic was having on our families and friends.

The past year has also removed from so many the ability, and even the right to self-author their own paths through life. Talking to university students, in many cases they felt the pandemic and decisions surrounding it had been taken by others, and had totally negated their capacity to self-author. They had decided to go away to university and then that had been overruled. They had found themselves back at home where decisions on daily life were often taken by parents (also struggling for something they could control); they were studying online in a way decreed by academics or their university IT systems, not as they had intended or envisaged. The only choice for many students and indeed many of us, was what exercise to do and when to do it, or as one student told me – which rules to break and when.

Then came the initial easing and some freedom that comes with choice. We chose to move and that’s fortunately not a challenging choice on a canal – you travel the way you are pointing. It’s not like a road with the opportunity to make u-turns all along the way, On a canal unless you have a short boat you only turn at the winding (turning) points, by which time you’ve usually had plenty of time at 4mph to make up your mind if you’re going the way you want!

Stresses for me this week include travelling 12m up above the Manchester Ship Canal on the Barton Swing Bridge Aqueduct

We’ve been waiting so long for restrictions to finally lift and yet in that lifting there are going to be new stresses next week for many. Many have become used to a new way of living, one that has reduced social pressures because there’s been no need to go out, to socialise, to spend money we don’t actually now have because of furlough or redundancy, or to invite people round. Workwise, officewear of trackies and a sweatshirt reduced washing, decision making, and perhaps also the need for dieting…

The pressures of lockdown ending can create problems that have the potential to overwhelm. We had a personal reminder this past week of lockdown, of losing control, of being at the mercy of someone or something else, of hopes raised and dashed and recognised how easy it is for any of these situations to trigger negative, low feelings that can be hard to manage.

The culprit for us was the driveshaft coupling. It connects to the engine to make it move the boat (all those who know more complex explanations – apologies!). Four bolts/studs came loose, losing threads in the process. Steve managed to get them to hold sufficiently to let us limp through King’s Lock into a mooring in Middlewich in Cheshire but that was it, the end of their useful lives.

Replacements were ordered asap by the helpful Paul Donnelly at Middlewich Wharf but the Bank Holiday weekend meant they didn’t arrive until day 6 of our enforced pause. When they arrived it was rapidly apparent that the threads into which they were connecting were also damaged, and that these had already been drilled out and repaired with helicoils in the past. Nothing for it but get rescued.

The saga of failed parts, arrived but not fitting parts, the removed part and engineer arrival – Andy the saviour is on the left.

Day 6 we called River and Canal Rescue – we’re insured with them. It took until day 13 of our enforced stoppage for them to have the parts and get to us. The moment the engineer Andy arrived with the new part was wonderful – high, positive, excitement but then it wouldn’t fit…instant low. By cutting out part of the engine bay the new coupling fitted and within minutes we had it fired, tried and with almost undue haste we thanked our rescuer and were pulling off our mooring as his feet left the boat for the towpath!

It almost seemed worse to be grounded again (by a failed drive coupling which links the engine tot he act of propulsion), having had a taste of freedom. We were constantly reminded of what we were missing as other boats happily cruised last us and all we could do was wait…impatiently in my case…for the replacement components to arrive. Huge glee when they finally arrived – followed immediately by a crushing low when they wouldn’t work.

It’s made me appreciate the difficulties for students, for colleagues at work who have suffered the difficulty of lockdowns; developed through personal choice and control their own ways of working, and then with the lifting of lockdown have the potential to lose that again through heavy-handed management. Making the return to the new normal one that allows everyone the opportunity to exercise their personal control and make their own choices, and to manage that with compassion and consideration, seems vital.

We’ve all got used to a slower pace of life in lockdown – and the speeding up is going to seem exhausting for many. Making sure we have slow times in our days is going to be vital – fairly easy for us at a maximum 4mph!

Consideration and compassion

It made me consider all those things we do often unconsciously that reduces choice, or control for others, and how by doing that, we lack compassion. Do we manage our lives and work to give those (children, partners, colleagues, students, clients) involved in the decisions we are making, a meaningful element of control and choice? Academics – are your assessment practices offering elements of control and choice for students? Do we exercise compassion if they find any elements overwhelming or challenging? When people are struggling with work, study, or life being compassionate and considerate isn’t telling them to “Get on with it”, or “Pull yourself together”. What seems an obvious solution to one can be impossible or alarming to another. Unless we are aware and remember that we lose our compassion.

Sharing is one way of caring for each other, sharing a new found love of nature, of walking, of cooking or crafting, or whatever it has been that got you through. In my case it’s been discovering more about the history and architecture that’s on my doorstep – wherever I take that doorstep on England’s canals. In the salt town of Nantwich and the City of Manchester we discovered some fascinating sights.

  • UTF-8 The Packet House, Worsley
  • UTF-8 Barton Swing Bridge taking Bridgewater Canal over the Manchester Ship Canal

Sharing may help others make it through the challenging changing times to come. Even if they don’t feel it’s for them, you’ve given them the chance to share in your choices, your self-authorship of a crucial time in your life, and that insight might be something they draw on to find their own inspiration for the next battle they face.

As individuals we need to look after ourselves for our own mental health, when it seems we have no choice or control over what life is throwing at us. We recognised the need to consciously see the multiple positives during our fortnight in Middlewich – shops, access to services, friendly and helpful owners at Middlewich Wharf (possibly the only wharf in England with a horsebox bar), visits from friends, good pubs serving food and drink outside and we found with the constant “will today bring news or a solution”, it was important to keep reminding ourselves of these pluses.

We consciously recognised the need to gain some control over our situation, it’s tempting to sink further feeling totally out of control. We walked. We took ourselves and the dog for long, new walks immersing ourselves in the countryside around us whatever the weather, consciously noting the changes going on in the trees, the hedges, the continuation of life through the hatching of ducklings, goslings and cygnets and appearance of buds, blossom and new leaves.

I’m hugely grateful right now – to those who have helped us on our way, supported us with consideration compassion and engineering expertise to get us on our way to the cheery waves from those on the towpaths and houses we have passed, to those who have shared a smile as they pass the boat and those who have shared the work at locks. Most of these lovely people will be unaware of how much they lifted my flagging spirits, but all these little interactions as we endured our enforced pause and then made up for lost time with long days cruising to get us into Lancashire for a much-awaited family reunion this weekend were little positive nudges. We are here. We will get to see everyone, and hopefully the only choices this weekend will be to hug or not (I am happy to but will leave that choice to each individual concerned), and how many slices of cake are too many? Ah cake – perhaps that’s a 5th C in the armoury to support my mental health!


How to belong – anywhere

Food for thought time this week. Being on a boat, moving about all the time has given me a heightened sense of belonging which seems so strange, when it doesn’t seem as if now I belong anywhere!

It’s made me curious about what it is that makes us feel we belong? Is there anything from this experience that can help others – in employment, at school or college or university – in a new house – or even in a new country?

Why does it even matter? Psychologists are clear it does, but we ourselves know that feeling we belong is important to happiness, engagement and productivity. It helps us feel settled, secure and productive in relationships whether personal or professional. It’s good for us, and those around us.

During lockdown/s it’s clear some of us have felt a new sense of belonging in our homes and local communities, where we’ve been spending much more time, and conversely a reduced sense of belonging in our workplaces which some haven’t seen for over 12 months. It was the pandemic with its unsettling uncertainties which drove us from a 4-bed detached house into a 50ft floating home (coincidentally both were built in 1989). I know that had I felt a strong sense of belonging in the university where I was then working, it would have been more difficult, if not impossible for me to make that huge change, giving up the permanent job in favour of a freelance, peripatetic way of working. I’m eternally grateful that I made that move.

According to Maslow, the American psychologist whose 1943 heirarchy of needs has validity today, belonging comes in the third tier. So for us to even be able to even consider belonging – hunger, thirst, comfort and safety need to be addressed. Safety is something I have been hearing a lot about from people I am working with as they return to face-to-face working. They articulate fears of being found wanting by bosses and colleagues, of having enjoyed too much working from home without that sense of being constantly judged and found wanting. Are they imagining it? Whether they are or not, it indicates a lack of trust in their management and colleagues that creates insecurity.

Copyright Simply Psychology – Creative Commons – such a clear way of setting out Maslow’s heirarchy.

Just looking at this pyramid of Maslow’s makes me realise just how much more complex belonging is in reality for us all. The experience of 3.5 months in lockdown in a single place, when normally living on board a boat which is continually cruising means staying in a place for a maximum of 14 days enabled experiential evaluation of what is it that makes us feel we belong. I realised it is about the small things, it is about us ourselves and how we respond to others, as much as it is about how others respond to us.

Firstly in our case, I wondered where is it we are belonging? It’s a multilayered situation, like an onion. At the heart we are belonging in our own skins. Belonging on a boat. Belonging on the canal and river network. Belonging fleetingly in all those places where we stop, some inhabited, some not. It’s also about belonging not just to individual places but to the whole, belonging in the country, in the nation. Living so close to nature, to the ever-changing countryside and its different facets, enables us to feel more connected – building a greater sense of belonging through appreciation and understanding. It is hard to belong somewhere you don’t appreciate or understand.

This floating way of life, working and living onboard is one we are making together, Steve and I. It makes me wonder if the fact there are two of us helps. We have a sense of belonging to each other, that we carry with us wherever we are. We have though, in our lives together, spent years apart living in different countries, in my case in places where I didn’t always speak the language, and the sense of belonging I particularly experienced in at least two of those instances was immensely strong, so it’s not always the fact we are a team.

What creates a sense of belonging? It’s not about big gestures or statements. I experience it in the little things, a smile, a wave, a cheery good morning. It makes me realise that the dog has a big part to play. Wherever we go, we are instantly part of the dog walking community. I always have a pocket of dog biscuits – a surefire way of guaranteeing obedience from our dear deaf old spaniel, a way of dispelling potential canine aggression and they make a conversation starter with another owner about whether they mind their pet having a biscuit.

Dog ownership – Wet, snowy and what on earth’s he got NOW? Wouldn’t be without him for anything!

Feeling part of a community is one element of this sense of belonging. A friend and former colleague asked this week how we managed without community, and the simple answer is, we don’t have to. Wherever we are we are part of the dog owning, dog walking community which so many have become part of lockdown. That in turn leads to shared experiences, another important element in belonging. We and these other dog owners know we have all walked our pets in the torrential rain, the sun, the wind, the early morning and the dark of night. Some will have stronger bonds of belonging, they will have seen each other daily for years, they may have walked together in the wind and rain, but even without that added togetherness we belong together through shared experiences.

It’s the same with the boating community. Whether your boat is new and expensive or only just staying afloat, you are part of a community of boaters. As in any community, there are communities within the community afloat. There are the continuous cruisers, the marina moorers, the weekend boaters, the floating traders, those who have a share in a boat and those who are holiday boaters. All are part of the wider community of boaters, but they also belong to different sub groups too. Vintage engines, different types of boats, boats from different makers, all create separate sub communities within those communities too!

In societies culture, language, accent, religion and location all create opportunities for belonging. In the same way they can all create opportunities for division and fracture, dislocation and alienation. The clear local identities we have seen and heard as we have traveled across the country from the Trent to the Mersey has been apparent in regular daily greetings, accents that indicate something about where people belong or have belonged – here’s a quick summary:

  • Nottinghamshire – “Ay up miduk”
  • Derbyshire – “Yer reet duk?”
  • Staffordshire – “Orate?”
  • West Midlands – “Tarara bit.”
  • Cheshire – “Hi, ahrite?”
  • Merseyside – “‘iya!”
Shardlow at the start of the Trent and Mersey, in Derbyshire the bridge over the River Trent between Willington and Repton, an iconic old bottle kiln at Stoke-on-Trent in Staffordshire and the green rolling fields of Cheshire famed for its dairy herds.

We’ve heard the changing accents, signalling identities at lock gates, supermarket checkouts, in friendly exchanges as we dive off pavements to try and give others as much space as possible. It is of course totally possible to drive the 92 miles from Shardlow to Preston Brook in a few hours whilst it has taken us from 19 December last year until now, nearly 5 months. It would have been a bit quicker, but a lot less rich in experiences without 14 weeks of lockdown spent in South Derbyshire, and a week in Middlewich waiting for 4 small studs (I thought they were bolts to be honest) to appear over a Bank Holiday! They did turn up in the end but old boats are like old houses, there’s always something else – in this case an issue with the threads the studs were going into, so we ended up having to call in River Canal Rescue for some emergency canalside engineering expertise.

Traveling slowly allows you to absorb more of the places and people that give these places their identity. You stop more often than you would in a car which would whizz through. The countryside is your route. You feel the hills and experience them through tunnels and locks as you travel up and down. Your passage through the land is an experience that demands effort and gives rewards in return. This involvement with the landscape develops a deeper sense of belonging.

For some a key way of belonging is developing a sense being needed within a community, contributing to the whole. This can manifest in small ways, the friendly waves exchanged between boats, more physical ways like sharing the physical work on locks, or as we’ve seen so clearly this week, and been so grateful for, helping those in need of a hand. Creating opportunities for mutual support or mutual dependence, often through projects, sports or assessments is something which can develop connections between individuals that contributes to a sense of belonging in schools, colleges, universities and workplaces. This can be developed well off site if there’s a will. It is an investment in the future. A strong sense of belonging affects not only how people feel about a place, an employer, or a university today or tomorrow, but how they talk about it, promote it, care for it and in some cases financially contribute to it for decades as alumni. Effort repays in often unexpected ways.

It is of course perfectly possible to have opportunities to belong, and to reject, or repel them all. The individual has to feel wanted, to feel their contribution is valued in order to feel they belong. It comes back to Maslow’s heirarchy – if we don’t feel safe in being ourselves, in contributing to a community or feel genuinely valued then that will taint and inhibit how we act and ultimately our sense of belonging. It will reduce loyalty and commitment, not usually to the job but to the employer.

It makes me realise how important it is for employers and institutions to re-engage with colleagues and students after the pandemic. Recognising that everyone is returning from a different experience is important, whether they are returning physically or not. Providing safe, genuine opportunities to share what we have all learned from the past year to develop a new way of working which draws on the entire community could be one way of developing a stronger sense of belonging for the future. We are all different because of the experiences we have individually lived through, and this may provide invaluable input for how communities and/or sub communities work better in the future.

Same spot brings two very different perspectives

In the last year we’ve all been on a journey with different perspectives, different views. By having an opportunity to come together and share what we have seen, learned and heard in that time, we can enhance our collective futures. For those in the lead, making space for people to know they are wanted and valued, to encouraging sharing of learned experiences without fear or favour is vital to develop a lasting sense of belonging.

As individuals though, just as we have the capacity to change how people respond to us with a smile or a scowl, we need to be open to the demands of belonging – if that is, we want it to happen. We need to understand ourselves to let that happen as Benjamin Hoff’s The Tao of Pooh explains so well:

“When you know and respect your Inner Nature, you know where you belong. You also know where you don’t belong.” [emphases are mine]

So if you find yourself somewhere you know you don’t belong, untie your ropes and just quietly, gently, calmly move to somewhere you do. Enjoy the journey.

You’ll find out when and where you belong – just like a duck in water.

Genuine teamwork and beneficial disasters

Isn’t it always the way? You set out with great ideals or should that be ideas, and then things change en route, the direction veers off, but often if you can make it, the final result can be better for the diversion. The glory of living and working from the boat as continuous cruisers is that you accept and indeed expect things to change- whether the weather… the WiFi signal…the way we feel. Why so often in life do we cling to an original plan, and dismiss deviations as weaknesses rather than opportunities?

This week we were between commitments and decided not to potter in our usual way but to crack on (as much as you can in a 15 ton, 4mph top speed narrowboat). After all those months being still in lockdowns 2 and 3 it was as if the ability to move was something we couldn’t get enough of. We powered through Staffordshire and into Cheshire. As a result, it has amazed me how much we have learned, seen, and to some extent how much we often fail to value so many things we take for granted, at home and at work. 

Teamwork for example. Not the contrived stuff of groupwork projects. Not the often glib stuff of job interviews, job applications or personal statements but the reality. Teamwork which requires constant evaluation and readjustment of your roles in order for the whole to be successfully achieved. Good teamwork also demands trust.

Sometimes that’s trust in your close team, and sometimes that involves others from outside involved in supporting you. We made it through the 1.6 mile Harecastle Tunnel this week, carved between Kidsgrove and Tunstall. Only one of 3 tunneled passages remain and this is a single boat width. You need to trust the Canal & Rivers Trust staff who guide you in, count you through, and are prepared to come and save you if things go wrong (they do tell you this as they usher you in, firmly shut the doors behind you and switch the ventilation fans on to give you clean air to breathe). You have to trust there is an end in sight and its not an oncoming boat they’ve let in by mistake!

It made me reflect that teamwork is about recognising the strengths of the individuals and letting each play to their strengths. I am not brilliant in dark, wet and cold places. Imagination is something I have in excessive abundance and that has its place, but not as the tillerman of a boat that needs to go calmly through a 1.6 mile tunnel in the dark… Deviation and sudden movements can damage the boat, tunnel walls and result in my roof garden being removed!

I can though plan ahead, ensure the thermos is full of boiling water (no naked flames allowed in the tunnel so no boiling kettle on the gas stove) and produce piping hot cuppas on the 40-minute journey through to cheer the dripping, wet and cold tillerman. Not a mega task but one which means we get to the end all feeling better about the experience. 

An incredible feat of engineering. In the days of horsedrawn barges men had to lie on the roof and walk the boat through with their feet on the ceiling – legging it.

You emerged blinking on the other side into another world. Heading south to north as we are, the whole canal turned a vivid orange by the time we emerged on the other side – the result of iron oxide from former mines.

The water round the cavernous exit/entrance looks almost red being in dark shade. Lock gates for miles are stained by iron oxide.

Outside of tunnels, teamwork is essential to move a narrowboat as fast as possible though locks, those amazing feats of engineering which take laden boats up and down hills. We did 20 of the 31 locks of Heartbreak Hill aka The Cheshire Locks in a single day, but achieving that speed through flights (sets of multiple locks – in this case sets of multiple pairs of locks) would have been impossible without effective teamwork. 

Pairs of locks with bridges that save you having to walk across the lock gates

We knew what needed to be done, the goal was to clear as many locks as comfortably possible. The only pre-discussion was who would be at the tiller of the boat and who would be the lock wheeler armed with a windlass to open paddles. That done we began. The lock wheeler went ahead to set the lock (get it ready by gauging the water levels, opening paddles if needed to adjust levels and opening the lock gate for the boat to be brought in). The gate the boat enters through then needs to be closed together with any paddles at that end of the lock, before the paddles at the opposite end of the lock need to be operated for the water to flow in or out (depending on whether you are going up or down) before the gates in front of the boat can be opened and the boat released to the new level. In a flight the lockwheeler can often run ahead and set the next lock whilst waiting for the one where the boat is to fill or empty.

Tillerman closing the gate behind the boat…at this point the dog’s in charge of the boat!

If the tillerman/woman manoeuvring the boat stays onboard the whole physical effort falls on the lock wheeler. Share the load and things get quicker. The lock wheeler can leave the tillerman to bring the boat in, closing gate and paddles at that end whilst they move to set (prepare) the next lock and return to fill or empty the lock where the boat is now. If there is another boat going in the opposite direction you all work together to save water and help each other through. We haven’t seen many other boats yet though so it’s been down to our team of 2.

Steve lock wheeling, me at the tiller coming through Stone

It made me think how often we seek examples of team work when employing people and how often what we fail to recognise is that the responsive nature of teamwork is what makes it important and in business so cost-effective. The examples we give are often where we galvanised others, led others, not where we worked and thought ahead and identified ways of working that made the final goal more efficient, rapid or easy for all involved.

The sense of achievement of really effective teamwork is a huge reward in itself (along with, in this instance a well-earned fabulous pizza from near the final mooring of the day and a good glass of red). It is the satisfaction of a job well done, a role well played in the whole and an achievement of which all can justifiably be proud. 

We have become very aware that the lockdown helped develop our team working. We were isolated, forced to be together much more than we had previously been or perhaps had thought of being. Although we have known each other for approaching 4 decades, we still discovered new things about each other’s approaches and ever-changing ideas influenced by research and exploration. Perhaps when setting up new teams in business, when asking students to work in teams, making an immersive initial experience would pay off. It’s about not looking for ways out of the team, or ways to demonstrate leadership all the time , but learning about the different strengths of the team and working out together how to maximise those for the team.

This last year has made me aware of how much young people also need to be able to demonstrate their ability to employ technology to create effective working relationships, achieve goals, galvanise teams and communicate socially and in a working setting. Universities, colleges and schools succeed if they give students the opportunities to learn, develop and demonstrate these skills. Collaborating with colleagues in other countries is one way of showing just how well individuals can use technology as a working tool. It’s also a lesson for parents – enabling children to become team players from an early age is vital, with all that entails. 

It has been strange after such an enforced time in isolation to begin seeing people again, to realise how insular we have been, and also how scary the lifting of lockdown can be. We have been hugely fortunate this week to have had meetings with family and friends, some of whom have been shielding. Their experiences reinforced how different everyone’s pandemic has been to this point. Meeting up with loved ones, friends and family is a huge bonus at any time. This time it made us more aware of how different our world has become from theirs, and made us immensely grateful for how rich our lives have become as a result of making the decision to live and work afloat.

We are more aware of the changing seasons. We have been watching stark, naked hedges take on the clothing of multi-hued green leaves and blossom or in the case of the blackthorns (sloes) blossom and then leaves; spotting emerging wild flowers and grasses; seeing mallards, swans and geese mating, nesting and now hatching fluffy young which seem instant experts at narrowboat dodging down the canals.  These lighten the days, add colour and balance to work and put work into perspective. 

Do you think this Canada goose knows she’s supposed to sit on that egg?

Things rarely go according to plan which always tests the team. It’s usually when complacency has set in, when you think, “Got the hang of this.” This week all was going brilliantly until we got to Rumps Lock just outside Middlewich…now renamed by us.

Just as the boat left the lock there was a horrible grinding noise. We were fortunate to be able to pull over onto moorings fast. Deck floor up, engine exposed and 4 studs that should attach the drive shaft to the engine were revealed to have clocked off… unattached engine and drive shaft means the boat isn’t going anywhere really. Steve began delving deep to find the culprits…

Only space for a team of one in this engine hole!

He found them in the depths, reattached them temporarily and we limped into the next lock whilst I consulted Google for a boat yard or chandlery with which Middlewich is remarkably well equipped. 

Our team expanded at the lock thanks to two very welcome smiling and efficient CRT volunteers there to take the strain. Once through we slowly moored again and Steve headed to a boat yard and chandlery armed with pictures of our offending studs. Sucking of teeth and dire warnings about engines needing replacing led to recognition they couldn’t help but gave us the number of someone who might. Being on lock moorings we needed to move ASAP so limped on into the town past the junction with the UK’s shortest canal, the Wardle just 154 feet onto the Shropshire Union. One single solitary mooring space remained amid a melee of hire boats and long term moorings before the next lock. We slid in with relief just a few inches spare either end of Preaux. 

Perfect fit!

It turned out to be good luck. Middlewich Wharf produced another chandlery and an affable owner, Paul. He predicted what we needed, took a look at one of the offending studs, came back to our boat to check for himself and ordered replacements for us at less than £15. We also discovered we were on his moorings but he said it was fine as I relentlessly threw the ball his dog brought me; fed his dog and Cola treats from my pocket and he even offered us a  new boat dog (we declined). He then let me know that if we were moored here all weekend waiting for the studs to arrive, they would open a horsebox bar and marquee a stone’s throw from the boat. Not sure if that’s just to entertain me, or for the town of Middlewich as a whole! (If you want to hire a holiday boat his Floating Holidays boats look good too!)

We had intended to stop in Middlewich briefly to shop but this extended stay, is a suprise bonus. Despite having spent many years as a teenager and in my 20s in Cheshire, this is a town I know nothing about. Middlewich, a salt town dating from Roman times is proving both a delight and education. This is an area where the canal would have been busy with barges laden with salt.

Lots of white powder here – most is salt from huge brine tanks, some is also lime

Eye catching architectural features, friendly people and fascinating historical details appear at every turn.

None of this was in our original plan, but it’s a forced change that is beneficial. It’s teaching this team the advantages of flexibility, coping with change and making the most of the hand you are dealt. Additional pluses are that it started raining just as we arrived back at the boat with the shopping so we didn’t get wet but the garden got a good soaking which saved me having to water it! 

As WiFi is great where we are moored, I can get ahead with some of the work I have on. No excuses – can’t move!  We work hard when we work but we work when we choose to because we have chosen to downshift.

“Now we work to live, not live to work.”

 We have balance and perspective as well as a rich ever changing pattern to our days which includes never knowing what we might see, or encounter next. It keeps teamwork relevant and necessary every single day. “Now we work to live, not live to work.”

Future proofing for life

I don’t know who I’m working for. I only know the effort I am now putting into living differently is hard work, but I can see some instant benefits, and that is encouraging, reaping rewards encourages increased action.

I recognise it isn’t enough to work towards my own future, or that of my children or even that of my grandson. The way I live now is just a small contribution in the big picture of trying to future proof our world for them, but also for their children’s children and generations I will never meet in person.

There’s so much of beauty and interest in this world that I’m fortunate to encounter every day living and working from our 50ft narrowboat.

Only 50 ft but painting is a bit of a Forth Road Bridge job – never ending!

This week, the week that hosted Earth Day 2021, and the week we traveled through certain areas of Staffordshire, has brought home dramatically how what we take for granted could be under threat.

This year I am acutely aware of the accelerating pace of Spring. Every day it seems new buds appear, new flowers arrive to show off their colours and scents. After the busy bustle of Fradley Junction where we pulled in by the Laughing Duck cafe to fill up at the slowest water point ever, and after emptying all the waste, we’d earned a pint outside the Mucky Duck (aka The Swan). Narrowboat life makes you very aware of your water consumption and waste production – you can’t help it!

Lovely to see people out and about whilst waiting at the slowest water point ever!

Through the last two locks of the Fradley five and then expecting dappled calm of Fradley Wood – we suddenly found ourselves facing the reality of work for HS2, the high speed rail line. The main line and subsidiary line will both affect this part of Staffordshire. A bridge will be constructed for the main rail line to pass over the canal where Fradley Wood currently stands, or at least what’s left of it stands.

Stumps of an entire woodland felled for HS2

On one side of the canal trees have been felled already. Stumps alone remain amid dusty soil in a scene of total decimation of the woodland and the habitats it provided. On the opposite side of the canal every single tree still stood, but for how long we couldn’t tell. Each tree was singled out for destruction with a cross.

Each tree marked for felling

Further on just round the most southerly point of the Trent and Mersey Canal at Wood End Lock it was a huge contrast and delight to find a tranquil mooring spot opposite Slaish. This woodland of deciduous trees, packed with squirrels, foxes and birds will be amazingly different when the huge rhododendrons come into flower. Our only company were nesting rooks and rabbits. The bank alongside the boat was covered in tiny purple violets.

Peace and tranquility

Slaish and neighbouring Black Slough Wood with their habitats for a variety of English floral and fauna also going to be affected by HS2. They were the scenes of Extinction Rebellion protests in the Autumn and Winter of 2020 but seeing the beautiful reality and hearing the soundscape of calm woodland brings home the cost of such transport expansion. Whilst I appreciate the argument that quicker rail will reduce road traffic, we haven’t seen that happen yet even though such promises have been made time and time again.

The next morning we moved on towards Handsacre and Armitage where we encountered more impacts of HS2, along with the desperate but apparently futile protests of people desperate to save the rich flora and fauna around them from destruction.

It brought into stark contrast the pleasure we’ve experienced watching nature unfold its delights for us this week. Ducklings have kept us astonished and amused. Tiny fluff balls that seem to be blown across the canal but are actually propelling themselves at incredible speed for their size with their minute muscles, and larger youngsters hopping and flopping in the water as they try to catch tasty gnats just above the surface.

We’ve walked miles on footpaths, woodland and towpaths, walks brightened by the glimpse of a vivid yellow dandelion flower, a glade of bluebells beginning to flower, a flash of white from a clump of lesser stitchwort against the green grass of a verge, and the mouthwatering scent of ransoms (wild garlic). Forget-me-nots, lady’s smock and the peppery yellow gorse flowers have all added colour, texture and in some cases extra flavour to our days.

Clockwise: wild garlic (ransoms); Lady’s smock; dandelion; bluebells; lesser stitchwort; forget-me-nots, yellow furze (gorse)

As we’ve cruised we’ve been using our trusty fishing net, well repaired now after it’s carbon fibre handle snapped under the weight of too much saturated litter. We’ve landed whatever rubbish we can reach that’s floating in the canal – cans, plastic bottles and plastic sheeting this week. We’ve been moored now near the glorious Shugborough Hall in Staffordshire for a couple of days. Our walks have taken us along carriage drives, over ancient bridges, across canal and rivers into the woodland of Cannock Chase. We’ve litter picked as we’ve gone, just to try and leave the place a little better for us being there, and as a thank you for being able to enjoy these surroundings.

No stars for this litter disposal – litter’s still destructive however it’s “hidden” – we carried it home and binned it.
Clockwise: Steve demonstrating the Stepping Stones at Cannock Chase; Brindley Aqueduct with the Bloody Steps rising in the far right; view of Rugeley power station from the railway – these towers are due for demolition in June so we don’t expect to see them again; Old Church of St Augustine in Rugeley; Triumphal Arch of Hadrian’s Tower at Shugborough

Back on the boat our mornings and evenings have been entertained by new neighbours – as you might expect from such impressive surroundings, we’re not just picking up ducks here! A stately heron and a very determined swan have made our acquaintance this week along with acrobatic moorhens and a robin all fluffed up in the chill of the morning frost.

These may appear small things perhaps, but it is the small things which give meaning and value to our lives. Imagine how bleak the world would be if future generations were never able to see these flowers, or birds, or hear the high passionate descending song of the robin. Earth Day brought our focus to what we can do – each of us as well as politicians and world leaders to work to preserve the world we live in for our wellbeing and economic survival.

We all need a healthy Earth to support our jobs, livelihoods, health & survival, and happiness. A healthy planet is not an option – it is a necessity.

Earth Day 2021

Together we have our small but meaningful part to play in climate action, in supporting science and educating ourselves. If we don’t know about or notice what is around us then we are inclined to dismiss them as unimportant. We can all conserve and restore, make the most of resources and enjoy the process of recycling, reusing and upcycling too. We can reduce pollution and consider before we consume whether water, power or food. Together we can seek to cut our foodprints, eating a UK fruit instead of a banana which has been flown thousands of miles to us. It may seem that our actions are like a drop in the ocean, but every little positive action makes a difference, and there is huge satisfaction in knowing like you are doing something that matters, something that makes a difference not just for now but for the future.

Earth Day is one day but what we do every day at home, at work and in how we get between the two, can and will have an impact. Let’s every day a positive impact, for everyone to try and future proof the world we have left, for everyone.

On a practical note, it’s interesting how our priorities have changed – life rather than work has prominence and in more mundane but equally important matters the bucket-hand-powered washing solution seems to be working well. The whirly washing line attaches well at the back of the boat (when stationary) but even in such a constrained space with no mechanics to eat them, socks vanish!

Was this, I wonder, the sock thief?

Value in reflection and remembrance

We are coming out of Lockdown 3 in a way that mirrors our life afloat – slow but sure. There’s no point in rushing things. Taking time can prevent accidents as I know too well. My own unscheduled, never-to-be-forgotten, plunge into the icy waters of the River Soar not far from a weir was the result of excessive, unnecessary haste. The loss of a mobile phone, a Fitbit, and any semblance of dignity after I had to be landed like a drowning whale on a towpath by husband and strangers heaving hard to get me up from the depths remains a salutary lesson…(we do now own a rescue ladder which should save members of the public having to haul me out should it happen again).

This week we joined many supporting the pubs reopening (outside). It was rapidly apparent lockdowns have changed our personal drinking habits – one pint was enough to nearly send me to sleep! After 3.5 months moored a stone’s throw from a pub in Soouth Derbyshire, by the time they opened we had cruised across the River Trent. We raised a glass in the beautiful Staffordshire village of Alrewas which we visited last year when its pubs were also shut.

Pint done – all I need now as you can see is a haircut!

Getting back on the move was tinged with nerves – perhaps how many people have felt about return to offices and other workplaces. Will we remember what to do (never fear – locks are like riding bikes, never forgotten skills), will we encounter hundreds of boats and get stuck for mooring (not yet but it’s definitely busy), will we remember how to juggle moving and working etc. (it appears so!)

Locking on – rather than clocking on in our post-Covid worklife balance
As ever, generous helpers at hand make life easier

The instant pleasure of moving on has unbelievably rapidly erased much of the frustrations we experienced by being impounded in one place for so long.

Moved from 3.5 months sensibly near a railway, services and shops to a backdrop of the National Forest
Made it over the scary River Trent which was as calm as a millpond, past Wychnor Church to moor at Alrewas.
Glimpses of Alrewas and a bit of boat gardening

I wonder whether this is the start of a return to an old way of life which although still tinged by change (masks, distancing, outside meeting). Will we pick up the reins of our old lives with relief, and will this erode our memories and erase the reality of what we have have all been through. I am sure that will not be so for those touched directly by the loss or horror of Covid , but for many we overhear on the towpath (people hold very personal conversations oblivious to canal boat dwellers so we have no choice but to hear), it’s a time people are desperate to forget. Whilst I recognise it is important to move on and not dwell on the pandemic 24/7, I feel that a failure to remember and reflect would be an immense loss to us as a nation, and as individuals. We have individually and collectively learned much, achieved much and need to recognise and remember that as well as appreciating the efforts and sacrifices made during this time.

The ways we reflect and remember are many and vital to our collective, national and personal selves. As Alexander Pope observed in his Essay on Man and other Poems the two go hand in hand:

“Remembrance and reflection how allied!
What thin partitions Sense from Thought divide!”

It is important to learn from our experiences, reactions, and responses. To make that which we have endured count in the future. Sometimes physical reminders act as triggers. The kindness of strangers will enable me reflect upon our long Lockdown 3 sojourn in Willington, South Derbyshire even though the memory of it is rapidly fading, superceded by new experiences and sights.

We’ve been picking up more ducks – thanks to the lovely people we met at Willington. Joan brought us an antique wooden flying mallard drake which has pride of place on the bedroom wall whilst Kim and Chris gave us a mallard duck. She joins the pewter wine bottle stopper duck on a windowsill opposite the sofa (we never did work out why one would need a wine bottle stopper…!). The flock also now includes Will our figurehead mallard, introduced in last week’s blog, made for us by Paul and Christine on Foxtrot.

The ducks will remind us of individuals, of the kindness of strangers, how strangers become meaningful acquaintances or friends, and the resilience we all developed during that time in Lockdown 3. Remembrance does not have to be maudlin or sad but can be joyous and uplifting. It can celebrate our individual and collective capacity for good, and remind us to learn from our experiences.

The National Memorial Arboretum (NMA) is a poignant but massive celebration of remembrance and reflection for us all in beautiful surroundings. Just a short walk from Alrewas where we moored, it was packed this week with families, couples and individuals. Lots were enjoying the Stickman Trail whilst all were making new discoveries.

Every visit here is so different – the seasons, the weather, the opportunity to spot something not seen before. It’s a place to find connections with ancestors, share time with loved ones, hear stories of daring do, enjoy peaceful walks and spectacular sculptures, picnic and play. Astonishingly it is also a place that remains free to enter, and let’s hope it remains that way so we can all enjoy the opportunity to remember, reflect and learn about our past.

From the collective and individual efforts and exploits in conflicts of the armed forces and civilians, to those lost in peacetime from stillbirth or illness, this is a peaceful, contemplative and celebratory place. It seeks to be inclusive and all-embracing. I was reminded of the awesome efforts of Captain Sir Tom Moore in galvanising us during the pandemic to support the NHS, and of Prince Philip, his contribution during and since the war, and his connection to my father, another WW2 veteran.

My father got to know Prince Philip well in 1953 at the time of the Coronation, long before I was thought of! As the assigned Royal Navy helicopter pilot he regularly flew the Prince to and from Buckingham Palace, landing on the Palace lawns. He held a lifelong admiration for the no-nonsense, plain spoken Prince, and wore the MBE he was awarded in the Queen’s Coronation Honours with immense pride.

The Queen herself was a truck mechanic during the war, one of thousands of women who stepped in to take the place of once male jobs while men were fighting at the front. These women ensured our nation was fed and functioning during the Second World War. They are remembered with various memorials at the NMA along with cipher teams of women (of whom my mother was one) who supported the troops with information and munitions makers who made arms for them. One group are missing though – there is no mention of the “Idle Women” who worked so hard on our canals. Surely this is some oversight- after all these women did a job ‘no one would touch with a bargepole’!

Back to 2021 and the NMA have set aside a place for a Covid memorial which is just waiting for government backing. It will be a good way in time to honour those who have developed, administered and accepted the vaccine to protect others; to those who have worked tirelessly in hospitals, care homes and communities, schools and supermarkets, those who have never stopped working to help us all to carry on, as well as to those we have lost as a result of this horrendous pandemic. Future generations and we ourselves need to remember and reflect on how we have each played a part in enabling a return to some hopefully enhanced way of life. We must remember how this pandemic has helped us appreciate the important things in life, many of which may appear small but which are crucial to us – presence not presents, people not possessions.

This did the rounds of Facebook at the start of the pandemic – it seems hugely resonant as a reminder

We need to remember lest we forget…

And reflect so we learn the most we can from this life changing experience.

Ice inside and out… nature lessons… and our few last nights locked down

To mark our extended stay here in Willington, South Derbyshire we commissioned a figurehead for the boat from the talented Paul and Christine on Foxtrot (@Foxtrotand Wood ‘N’ Crafts). Willington Will, our guiding mallard duck will see us right!

Meet Will!

We’ve also had our first Easter living on the boat so Happy Easter everyone.

A beautiful Easter display at Findern Methodist Church

I really should have started this blog with an apology to the seedlings on the roof – just as the spring onions, salad leaves, herbs and beetroot started to push through, in 4 hours we had 4 seasons early in the week – sun, snow, hail, rain, and punishing winds.

April snow showers

More biting winds and sharp frosts followed. Still, the seedlings have hung on and are currently encased in cloches of bubble wrap attached with bulldog clips and plastic bottles. Some other plants (surfina and tomatoes) destined for the roof this week have now moved into the bathroom to harden off! So there are seedlings on kitchen worksurfaces, in the bathroom and in the cratch!

We’ve got ice inside too now – with our final lockdown purchase – a full sized under counter fridge. It replaces our compact one which had a small 2* freezer compartment. Thanks to Inlander 12volt our stunning new retro Swan is chilling everything beautifully as I write and even making ice for tonight’s G&T which will be a real treat! Getting the fridge into the boat in its box to stop it being scratched was fun!

Funky fridge time!

Nature has been a joy of Lockdowns 2 and 3, made even more important because of its instant accessibility. We just step out of our door and feel instantly in the wild. Every day has brought something new to see, watch or hear – whether new growth, landscapes, birds or animals.

Such beautiful piggy eyes and those ears – just delightful!

We’re preparing to leave Willington in South Derbyshire on Monday 12 April – the first date we can under lockdown lifting. We’ve been here since 28 December, and in that time have been hugely aware as well as grateful for the incredible work of volunteers who make the local environment accessible for us all.

If you are planning a UK holiday on a narrowboat, learn from our experience that the journey is the destination on Britain’s inland waterways. Taking time to explore and be leisurely over travel is one of the sheer joys of this life afloat. Rushing from place to place risks missing so many of the small and fascinating pleasures and moments of interest.

From the Ashby Canal we explored parts of the Leicestershire Round and Bosworth Field, famed for its connection with England’s last Plantaganet king, Richard III who perished in battle in August 1485. His body was discovered in September 2012 under the tarmac of a Leicester City car park and was reburied in Leicester Cathedral in March 2015.

Bosworth Field

From the Trent & Mersey Canal, since New Year’s Day I’ve walked 580 miles, mostly on towpaths and footpaths. From the Willington visitor mooring we’ve found some great walks ranging from short and easy to long and challenging. Some are flat, others include the delights of hills which bring new perspectives. Most are well signposted and maintained by groups of volunteers who give up their time to enable us all to enjoy the incredible health and wellbeing benefits of the countryside.

If you have children I highly recommend the fantastic figure of eight walks from Willington or Mercia Marina to Findern, Stenton and back which can be as short as 2 miles or as long as 10, depending on the permutations you make. There’s lots to see on the way, and the Findern Footpaths Group (FFG) have installed information boards which share fascinating facts about the locality, flora and fauna around to make sure you don’t miss anything, whatever the season.

We’d highly advise you make it include Boat Street, the cafe boat now permanently moored beside the Streethay Wharf workshop area of the Marina, a short walk from the towpath if you go over the white metal footbridge, explore a willow maze and enjoy the wildlife lake on the way. Boat Street’s prices, and Cumberland Sausage breakfast rolls have to be seen to be believed!

The FFG boards tell me the centre of Findern used to be known as Bumpton but I have no idea why or when it changed its name. It would be fascinating to know the answers.

A short walk from Willington and the Trent & Mersey canal takes you over the River Trent to Repton, the historic village and former capital of the ancient kingdom of Mercia. Famed for its public school, the buildings of which are scattered throughout and dominate the historic village.

From Repton three walks of varying lengths are detailed on the village website for ease. These fan out across the surrounding hills. Maintained by local groups including the Melbourne Footpaths Group. Paths take you along by the River Trent, past the site of an old chain ferry to Twyford (we managed this route in the ice and snow), through fields to the back of Repton Prep School before climbing to give a good view of the Peak District on a clear day. Another, longer route heads up through the oaks and ash of the Woodland Trust’s Sledge Wood. It then scales Red Lane where outcrops of Bunter sandstone stand on pebble beds.

Walking in the footsteps of our ancestors

Eventually this route offers stunning views back across the Trent valley over the distant Willington Power Station cooling towers to the southern Peak District from near the back of Foremark Reservoir. The Reservoir itself is only a short walk further on and well worth a visit, beautiful picnic spots, sandy coves and a cafe!

We’re looking forward to new walks, new scenery, new moorings and more adventures from next week as we start cruising again. There are breaches of both the Trent & Mersey and the Macclesfield which are our optional routes to reach Yorkshire. It’s a race to see which will be fixed first but the latest information suggests that we’ll be heading north via the Trent & Mersey and returning via the Macclesfield. In the meantime, Willington has been good to us for what we expect to be our longest single mooring so here’s a final sunset from this perspective!

Next week: Who knows where we’ll be and what will have happened to us on the way to wherever we are?! Join us on that journey!

Frightening fire onboard! Treats and making a living afloat.

The small 24 ft fibreglass cruiser behind us had a fire onboard on Sunday afternoon. The first I knew was clouds of what looked like yellow smoke billowing across the towpath – it turned out to be powder from a discharging fire extinguisher.

You can see how close the cruiser was to us – that’s our tiller and ropes. The powder on the towpath is all that’s left of the drama outside the boat. Onboard I gather it’s a different story and the owner took bags of damaged interior to the bins.

The new boater on board fortunately was OK and so was his boat. He attempted to fill up his methanol stove without realising the pilot was alight, and inevitably things caught light. That resulted in him automatically throwing the flaming fuel from him, setting fire to more of the boat. He was extremely lucky, managed to get everything out not into the water but the towpath and followed up with a fire extinguisher. Raised heart rates all round but fortunately no one injured and Misspent 1 remains afloat.

I’ve gone round and checked our fire blanket and fire extinguishers as a result as I think have most of us along the canal here after Sunday – a salutary reminder to do so.

Do you remember trips to your parents and coming away with the car laden with food? Sometimes it’s nice to know some things don’t change, even when you totally change the way you live! Steve was away at the weekend on essential duties allowed in lockdown but returned on Sunday after the drama was over with a huge basket of goodies – thank you Mum! We will enjoy a delicious weekend of Easter treats.

No £20 challenge this week!

The sun which followed a quick flurry of snow this week has been welcome. Coming with March 29 lifting of restrictions it’s led to so many more smiling people catching up with family and friends on this already busy towpath. The nearby Mercia Marina must be emptying a bit too from the steady stream of boats of all shapes and sizes emerging.

Walkers, boaters, paddle boarders, canoeists, kayakers , runners and cyclists alike have enjoyed the abundance of riches on offer within a mile of our current mooring at Willington. Towpath traders make a towpath walk a delightful and a vibrant experience at the moment. Of course it’s ever-changing as boats move on and new traders arrive.

To our left we currently have Alan and Tina on nb Wobbly with ice creams, fudge and soon – candy floss. Their ice creams have just launched for the season and as discerning tasters we, friends and family can vouch for their utter deliciousness. They aim to be in a flotilla of narrowboats later this year travelling across The Wash, and maybe serving ice creams en route!

Wobbly ice creams also provided us some April Fools’fun on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram (pickingupducks and personal accounts. Some people were keen to know more about zero calorie, non drip ice cream!

Their fudge is available in a multitude of flavours – great for taking on a long walk or enjoying at home. Candyfloss is new for them this year and will be up and running as soon as the dome arrives that stops the boat and its inhabitants (Alan, Tina, 2 cats and a collie) being pebble-dashed with spun sugar.

To our right we’ve been grateful for Sylvie and Ben and their dog Badger on The Holm Oak. They enable us all to be more sustainable and knowledgeable with their eco friendly household and beauty products and well researched information. They offer many products in refill form which is brilliant and provide bottles if you can’t. We now have several once empty gin bottles with new labels saying – not to have with tonic – as they contain eco friendly washing up liquid or washing liquid! (I’ve stocked up in case we don’t see them for months…and it gave purpose to several empty bottles).

Sylvie also makes beeswax wraps and covers, and after April 12 will be selling her unique handcrafted clothing and bunting which we first encountered after Lockdown 2. Between them this enterprising couple also create beautiful handcrafted wood and macrame plant shelves and hangers. They are heading to Fradley for Easter weekend and then perhaps onto the Shroppie heading for Llangollen when restrictions permit. When you find them make sure to see their amazing feature window crafted from oak by Ben and finished with stained glass panels which they made under the guidance of former boater and glass expert Bonnie Brooksbank at her Purple Stained Glass Studio in Loughborough. Bonnie’s workshops are fabulous – I personally highly recommend them. Like me, you will find you can make things you never imagined under her skilled tutelage.

See nb Holm Oak Trading’s website or social media for details of their next locations.

For a while, moored near Holm Oak was the cafe boat Holly recently started up by Joanna and Victor Gould. Their YouTube channel means thousands have already had a taste of their life if not yet of Jo’s great cakes and coffee.

Half a mile further on past an oak wood towards the white metal footbridge over the canal to Mercia Marina is the mooring of Boat Street. This is a cafe boat with hot food, cakes, snacks, hot and cold drinks and trips too. Chris and Kim have backgrounds in the esports sector and NHS. They’ve made a huge success of their cafe business despite the pandemic which put an abrupt halt to their trip enterprise. Our loyalty card with them is well used and their Cumberland sausage rolls are already justifiably legendary. They will be the one boat we’ve encountered who will still be trading in the same spot – all of the others need to move on once lockdown finishes but this is Chris and Kim’s base. They are trialling a new location this week just into the marina which looks like a great place.

Boat Street – Cola’s favourite traders and ones who have given a lift to our Lockdown

As soon as lockdown allows, with their boat master, Boat Street will be running licenced, catered trips – they’re already taking bookings. I can’t think of a more relaxed way to get together with family or friends you haven’t seen for a while on a boat, gently cruising the Trent and Mersey Canal, out of Mercia Marina, along through Willington, over the historic and beautiful Dove Aqueduct to Horninglow Basin and back. It’s one way to meet up with family and friends – you don’t need to get wet or cold, or sit draped in blankets and the boat can take 2 groups of 6 or one group of 12 in a Covid secure way.

By their very nature, floating traders are always changing as they come and go. There hasn’t been so much of that during lockdown but movement is now underway. Latest arrivals have included nb Yorkshire Lass with an astonishing array of fenders, doormats, rope dog toys and an assortment of creatures. We spotted snakes, spiders, snails, and dogs!

It’s been a real positive of lockdown, having all these trading boats on the towpath around us. Not only have we been able to buy their goods but we’ve really enjoyed getting to know may of the traders themselves – fascinating people whose enthusiasm and passion is infectious.

Empty gin bottle update: Thanks to responses from last week and Holm Oak Trading we now have 2 x candle holders, 1 eco washing up liquid container, 1 eco washing liquid container and 1 fairy light holder. I would add these are bottles collected over recent years – not just the last 6 months living aboard!

Coming up next week: Lasting lessons of and from nature. An exciting new major purchase -will it change our life on board? And our last week in lockdown at Willington.

Highs, Lows, Lessons and Stats: 6 months on

Six months into casting off tethered lives… the three of us (2 x 2-legged and 1 x 4-legged) are still afloat and healthy.

This week however – brought a disaster. On Monday I couldn’t trust myself to speak to Steve despite the fact he had managed an awesome 20-mile virtual race the day before. Instead of congratulating him I was intent on not yelling at him.

It was an accident, him hurling my carefully prepared box with personal items out of storage, gifts and items for the roof garden including a tub of new plant food, solar lights and glass watering globes into the local tip. An extreme way of downsizing? It’s expensive to replace those bits we can, and frustrating about the things we can’t but que sera… these things happen.

Six months ago my sister asked if we didn’t find boat living claustrophobic and I somewhat smugly answered: “No, because there’s so much accessible outside space.” This week we found out just how far away from each other you can get even on a 50ft boat when you need space! Adapting to new dimensions has been part of the change to our lives.

Steinbeck was right when he said: “It’s a hard thing to leave any deeply routine life, even if you hate it.” We humans are creatures of habit. It is hard to leave the apparent safety of routine, the daily job, the bricks and mortar house, and the comfortable life resulting from decades of hard work. The big things were hard to make decisions but easier to leave than the small often material things. I think that’s the reason I over-reacted to the accidental hurling of items I associated with past life. Now I realise the things I needed can be replaced, and everything else is retained in my memory – until I forget everything when it won’t matter anyway. So I have calmed down – and more importantly apologised!

Running away?

It’s interesting how people have reacted to our move. Other boat dwellers consider us normal (well, as normal as any of us are). In the past six glorious months we have met many different people living permanently on their boats. From retired to young people living on narrowboats is an affordable way to get a home of their own. We though weren’t in that situation, and those who don’t live ‘on the cut’ full-time have expressed horror, incredulity, considered us brave or foolhardy and there’s also been a response which delighted us just when I thought we were becoming boring old bods, ‘Wow – only Deena and Steve would do that…’

Our youngest gave us pause for thought with her brilliant card – were we actually running away? The answer is yes – not from our children or any problems but from a toxic worklife balance and monotony.

I am personally grateful for the pandemic in that it brought a me up short to question how we were living and how I was working. Reflection and decision was made easier because of a sudden change of routine. I realised it didn’t matter where I was physically – with internet access I had the potential to continue working from wherever I chose.

Steve has run his property business from home for the past 8 years, and in lockdown 1 had to contend with me invading his space but we realised this worked. We both enjoyed being together 24/7… we realised that if we simplified our lives and reduced our outgoings then we could perhaps survive in a different way, keeping the essentials of daily life we were appreciating. Downshifting means we need less money and I have returned to a freer freelance existence.

The best things in life really are free. That’s something else the pandemic has taught me – what matters are moments that take your breath away, that make you smile or laugh out loud. They come from nature, from those you love and sometimes from strangers. It is also handy to have enough money for the occassional g&t! (A gin fairy, birthdays, mothers’ day, Christmas and plentiful sloe foraging has helped gin stocks so far!). Any ideas for recycling gin bottles???

Part of the change involved considering our family home as a resource rather than a tie. We turned it into an asset bringing income to support our different life.

Getting boat ready

So where to live? Three years ago we released an early element of pension and on a whim following a couple of enjoyable family holidays afloat we bought a 50ft narrowboat from Rugby Boats (highly recommend them if you’re looking). We had her base plate totally replated with steel (to avoid a soggy bottom), blacked (protection) and replaced an inadequate propellor. We also had the Morso Squirrel stove made usable and safe which was a significant cost.

The aim was to use her as a family boat for high days and holidays. We began to change the interior for that use, reducing the kitchen area, taking out the full sized grimy cooker and replacing it with a hob; increasing the living area to include a gateleg table and chairs; building in a sofa bed with storage to give space for 6 to sit and eat together (handy really given the rule of 6 which emerged during the year). Then came The Plan – to live on her full time…

The moment Lockdown 1 lifted so we could go to the boat, Steve began frenetic renovations on board helped by a family friend on periodic furlough who sanded and painted rust spots, skirting and shelves whilst I worked out my three months notice from home. Steve dug out the old rusty and rotten waste tank on the boat (a revolting job), installed a new walk in shower, basin, flushing cassette toilet, akitchen sink, and laid a floor. He installed the hob and built the sofa bed.

Before on the left and now on the right – left doesn’t include any of our ‘stuff’ but the right does!
Before on the left and after centre and right.

The eventual move onboard was a mad dash – to avoid being trapped on land by the impending, much heralded Lockdown 2… followed by a dash down the Leicester Line of the Grand Union to avoid being locked down close to our former home! We actually made it as far as the Ashby Canal before Lockdown 2.

Life afloat

Our first night on board as continuous cruisers was 19 September on the River Soar . Early the next morning, in the dark, the dog fell overboard. Disaster was averted thanks to using a towel as a hoist, something we’ve learned to adopt when in need of lifting said spaniel. My dressing gown though never recovered…

Rivers generally make for more excitement than canals, especially when starting to flood. There are multiple questions that keep you on edge:

  • how high will the waters rise?
  • will we be able to get off the boat?
  • will our mooring ropes hold? or in my case – will my often-rubbish knots hold?
  • on an almost hourly basis asking what’s the indicator showing? is it red or still on amber?
  • if the indicator goes to red and navigation is stopped how long will it be for?
  • will we escape a lockdown only to be trapped by a flooddown?
  • is it possible to shoot resulting rapids in a 15 ton narrowboat?

Rising river levels put paid to my aim of mooring back near our family for Christmas. It proved a good thing because we have had excitement and adventure on the canals too. These include discovering the shower tray angle was sending water into the bathroom and not down the plug hole (messy and resolved by shifting ballast), springing a leak from our water tank (messy, worrying and finally resolved in Lockdown 2), being trapped by a breach in the Ashby Canal (Lockdown 2) and being trapped in a live military firing range… if you missed these – nip back into past blogs!

We’ve invested in new ropes, new batteries and this week the excitement of NEW SOLAR PANELS which Steve fitted while I worked. ( I thought it would be appreciated if I stayed out the way so he could crack on in peace but all I could hear was people stopping and talking to him. People are sociable on towpaths – walkers and boaters alike. He also had to rescue another boater who’s diy project went overboard!).

Stages of going solar

We’ve encountered iced ropes and iced canals, snow, sunshine, winds, rain and mud – lots and lots of mud. We’ve been touched by the constant caring admonitions to stay warm – usually these arrive as we’re down to tee shirts because our stove works so well!

Life in all weathers

We’ve moored in rural isolation, on the edge of towns, on busy towpaths, and in a marina. We’ve used mooring chains, nappy pins, pegs and rings.

We’ve enjoyed meeting coal boats and coffee boats, a floating eco shop, a talented spinner and wood crafter, an ice cream boat and dozens of sociable dog walkers.

The highs of living afloat

HIGHS:

  • a different, somewhat Circadian pace of life
  • sleeping for more hours a night than I have ever managed before
  • enjoyment of moving slowly (outside lockdown) and gently (unless I steer)
  • constantly changing sight and scenes
  • meeting new people with the realisation that if you like your neighbours you can stay a while or travel on together (lockdowns permitting) but equally if you don’t like them then you can just untie your ropes and move on
  • time to delight in small pleasures like the patterns sunshine on the water make on the boat’s polished wood ceiling and watching dancing flames in the fire
  • closeness to nature and the elements – I’m more aware of the daily changes wrought by the seasons than ever before
  • daily anticipation, adventure and discoveries
  • being thinned, healthier and as a friend described us “sickeningly de-stressed”

Lows of living afloat

LOWS:

  • not being able to see or have family and friends on board
  • not being able to move thanks to lockdown
  • springing a leak (but a high because we fixed it!)
  • the tiny old fridge with its freezer shelf which doesn’t work well means buying fresh good more often which is proving costly – it’s on the saving up for list.
  • still not having mastered a solution to clothes washing. Hand washing and reliance on family cannot go on for much longer. It’s our next project – to devise a sustainable solution.

Lessons learned from living this way

Steve – learned more about the boat. He had time to explore it in ways that he probably wouldn’t have done so quickly otherwise. Has had time to see how it was originally built and how it’s been adapted, changed and altered over the years.

Me – whenever something’s going to go wrong, it will be in front of the maximum audience (even on the Suez Canal it appears!). If it’s going to go right there’s never a soul to see. It is good to be reminded of how adaptable and resourceful we can be and enjoy being so. Feeling calm, relaxed, energised and making every day count.

What would we change?

Ben Lount from @HolmOakTrading said to us last week when we were buying out eco refills from their boat: “You have to be a doer to live on the water”, and it’s so true. We are doers and enjoing doing things so we wouldn’t change the emptying of bins, the emptying of the loo, the washing up or the carrying shopping to wherever we are moored.

There are things that we find slightly odd – having a stove in the middle of the boat would help heat both ends more quickly, and the side hatch opening onto the bathroom is a little tricky at times when you want the hatch open and privacy too but they are a small price to pay for the life we have.

I would love to change the mud but before next winter I am planning an outside bootscraper with brushes and better dirt trapper mats inside! We are preparing to live differently on the boat as summer comes. We decided spring equinox was the official time to remove the Perspex secondary double glazing. It means we can see out clearly now, or will do when I have finished cleaning windows!

The black line indicates our journey to date. Blue lines indicate return journeys on the same stretch.

Statistics to date – even with two lockdowns when we haven’t moved

  • Travelled a total of 193 miles, 1.75 furlongs [132 miles 6.5 furlongs on narrow canals, 46 miles 6.5 furlongs of broad canals and 13 miles 4.5 furlongs of river]
  • Navigated 95 locks [47 narrow and 48 broad] this included the staircases at Foxton and Watford
  • Moved 6 bridges (the moveable ones fortunately)
  • 41 aqueducts or underbridges
  • Cruised 3 miles 2.5 furlongs underground through 5 tunnels – Saddington (880 yards), Husbands Bosworth (1166 yards), Crick (1582 yards), Braunston (2042 yards), Newbold (250 yards)
  • Journeyed on 7 canals – Grand Union, Oxford, Coventry, Ashby, Birmingham & Fazeley, Coventry detached portion (I kid you not), Trent & Mersey
  • Cruised on one river – the Soar navigation – and one Line – the Leicester Line
  • Took in two Arms – Market Harborough and Welford

We are steadily confirming our new life…we registered not only with the CRT as continuous cruisers but now posterity will see us living on nb Preaux as recorded in the 2021 census…thanks to volunteers bringing a code to access the form.

It’s been a surprisingly eventful and enjoyable six months – what will the next six have in store? We aim for Lancashire, Yorkshire, back to the Soar for August’s Mountsorrel Revival and then into London for October! Will we make it? Stay with us to find out and feel free to share with others who might like to join the journey.

Living by our mottos

Next week: Keeping afloat financially – a look at some of the many ways people are earning a living on the water.

Springing forward and spring cleaning

On the water, the towpaths and in the wider world outside there is a sense of movement all around us – even if we are still static, until at least 12 April it appears! To avoid intense frustration building up we are taking action.

It’s been a busy week for us both workwise but amid everything the vernal (fresh, new) or spring equinox has arrived at long last. Across the globe they mark the point where day and night are almost equal in duration (equi: equal nox: night), unlike solstices which mark longest (June) and shortest days (December).

Leaf buds are appearing along the towpath on what looked like scrubby land between the increasing line of boats and the railway. Trees which since we arrived in December have been patterned only by lichen, snow and ice. Now a vibrant green hue is emerging, highlighting the ends of branches.

Violets, aconites and a ladybird – surely signs of better times ahead?

Mallard are pairing up along the canal, signalling their interest in each other by the rhythmic head bobbing of courtship. The ducks are looking for suitable spots or already building their carefully cached nests. Other birds too are nesting. As I swept out yet more dog hair from the boat this week a robin eagerly pounced and flew off with the black fluff dangling from its beak. Those who missed out, magpies or small sparrows, are constantly flying back and forth with varying lengths of twigs, moss plucked from the side of the canal or scraps of wool from the nearby fields of sheep and lambs. Along by the Dove Aqueduct we stood watching vibrant coloured male goldfinches with their red masks and hazard warning yellow and black striped wings as they sing “teLLIT-teLLIT-teLLIT”. Next time I will try for a photo which isn’t a blur!

Along the towpath the peculiar tornado shapes of butterbur are opening their tiny pink flower spikes next to the water. These exotic looking plants are easily to spot now when there’s little else around them. Their leaves are beginning to appear too. These will grow huge, and heart-shaped. People used to use these leaves to wrap butter in the past. Extracts of the rhizomes were used for treating headaches, hay fever and in Japan the young buds of their native variety are apparently delicious fried in temura batter. I haven’t been tempted… but maybe next year?

Butterbur

In the past seven days we seem to have had a month’s worth of weather in each 24 hours. Sunshine, warmth, high winds, hail with stones that whiten the paths, gentle breezes and torrential rain which makes for more mud underfoot and paw.

At night the winds bend the trees which we hear creaking along with our mooring ropes have made me fearful not only for my plants on the roof, but for the newly constructed nests. By day the birds, like this female blackbird joyfully puddle-bathing just outside the kitchen window, bring positives to even a muddy towpath.

We managed a spring clean inside during the showers, and outside during a gap in the downpours. We fish out rubbish with our net when travelling, and we’ve been doing that for anything drifting past us whilst we’ve been moored too. Steve was delighted to have his rubbish netting skills caught on camera by Joanna Gould as she and Victor brought Zero back from the water point the other day! He appears at 8 mins 37 apparently!

This week though there’s been little floating debris so we headed on land towards Findern clutching gloves, grabber and bin sacks to collect stuff spotted on walks. We rapidly gathered so much that we had to beg another bin sack from Boat Street, a cafe boat moored near the marina. A quick litter pick whilst walking is something we’ve tried to do wherever we are moored for a while. Let’s be honest we do hope this 3-4 month mooring is the longest we will have have to spend anywhere so this litter pick seemed like preparation for a farewell!

Some of the biggest rubbish culprits wherever we go are dog owners. If we’re out walking our dogs surely we all want to be enjoying the countryside we walk in and preserving it for others to enjoy. Putting dog poo in plastic bags and then discarding them all over the place, hanging in trees or on hedges – WHY???

On the plus side in the hedgeline of the oak wood we came across a very nice intact Fevertree gin glass – that’s been recycled I’m glad to say…sadly no gin was to be found. Cola did his bit too… fishing an old cat food tin from the canal and retrieving discarded cauliflower leaves which he found somewhere…just hope he didn’t nip onto a boat for them!

Gin glass doing duty after a good wash and Cola trying to see out after picking up discarded cauliflower leaves

We collected the usual haul of cans and bottles plus half a plastic garden chair, a lot of pens, sweet wrappers, and plastic containers of all sizes. Steve took the bags to the boaters’ bins at Willington.

Spring cleaning and preparation for what comes next also led us on a walk we wanted to do but which has been partly underwater until now by floodwaters from the Trent.

The footpath finger post has been indicating quite a swim as waters rose higher and higher since January

Crossing the original 1839 toll bridge would have cost a toll of 2d for us both back in the day. When it opened the engineer who designed it had to pay compensation to Mr Pearsall, the operator of the ferry which provided the previous crossing.

Finally we were able to follow the footpath fingerpost along the now lush well-watered fields beside the Trent. Turning alongside a gaggle of Canada geese grazing happily and as ever noisily, we moved away from the river over a series of stiles before coming back to the glistening, gleaming waters on a final bend where the river has carved the sandy soil to take part of the field away. At this point we began climbing up through sprung gates and stiles to the back of Repton, with a view right over the valley to the vast Toyota factory complex at Derby.

Repton this week has a completely different feel to that when we first encountered it because the public school that dominates the village is open again. The whole village looks and sounds different. Shrill commanding whistles blast from sports pitches and on the paths and pavements, navy-uniformed groups of boys or girls (one or the other, never together it seemed) chatter in groups as they walk.

The school was founded in 1557 on land that once housed a Benedictine Abbey and an Augustinian Priory. Its motto Porta Vacat Culpa (the gate is free from blame) from Ovid’s Book of Days or Fasti, is apparently inspired by the remains of the Priory gatehouse. I much prefer Steve’s translation of the motto “You’re to blame for leaving the door open!” Former pupil Roald Dahl would probably have agreed with him – he said wrote that school days were filled with fear and censure. His novel Boy draws on his time at Repton. Boazers and fagging were made bearable by positives like the unique Corkers, a delightfully eccentric master who only pretended to teach maths. Maybe Dahl was one of the schoolboys who sought to decorate the top of the famous Market Cross. Newspaper reports over the centuries tell of chamberpots, underwear and more recently traffic cones adorning its ball-shaped top.

Whilst we are still here, spring cleaning, walking and keeping track of all the changes happening in nature around us feels energising and even exhausting after a particularly subdued winter. This year we are all being tracked too with the census which happens every decade. It’s proving a bit more complicated on water than it ever has on land!

The census provides data about the population but also a moment of reflection as to what will be shown to future generations of our family by this recording. This is our first census as continuous cruisers. It is also is the first when both our daughters are living independently and the first time our grandson will be recorded for posterity.

For the first time this is going to be a census primarily online. Foolishly I thought that meant it would make it easier being cast adrift from the norms of postal addresses, letterboxes etc. Wrong! We are told to call for an access number to enable you to complete the census online and that’s where the”fun” starts… Steve being organised took it upon himself to get our access code before the census night of 21 March even though boaters have been told we can officially complete on any night between 20 and 23. He’s now spent something in the region of 4 hours according to his phone records trying to get the number and as of this moment we are no nearer. We await promised return calls… or the arrival of a census officer calling on moored boats. Will we get access to complete or a £1,000 failure to complete fine? Watch this space as they say!

Next week: Highs, lows and lessons of our first six months as continuous cruisers… and a floating census update