Bag bottoms and historic Arms


Blindgötu, cul-de-sac, sackgasse, the bottom of a bag – dead end doesn’t sound an attractive proposition whatever the language (Icelandic, French and German as well as English here).

To reach a dead end means you’re not making any progress, you’re unlikely to succeed, but this week, dead ends have literally been our focus.

Going… to return…



Heading somewhere and knowing you are going to have to return the exact same way can be psychologically depressing. On a canal though, things tend to look very different heading in opposite directions. The distances remain the same, but even bridges and locks change in character and angle as well as the views, the wildlife, and the challenges.

Arms have a starting point and an end on canals as on bodies. The lockless Wendover Arm, for example, straddles the border of Hertfordshire and Buckinghamshire. Its 6.7-mile length was dug originally to enable water from Star Top Reservoir to be supplied to the summit of the Grand Junction Canal (now known as the Grand Union Canal). Opened in 1797 it became unnavigable in 1897 but volunteers from the Wendover Canal Trust have been painstakingly working for he 1.7 miles from Bulbourne Junction to a winding (turning) point just beyond a beautifully reconstructed Little Tring Bridge. This section (Phase 1) was handed over the Canal and River Trust in 2005 for them to manage the navigation.

After leaks and low water levels were reported in April this year, CRT  took the decision to drain the Phase 1 section and set up stop planks (a stop lock) to hold back water from above Little Tring Bridge to the winding hole. According to the Wendover Canal Trust CRT have advised that repair works will cost £200,000 which they cannot afford for some years, particularly in light of significantly reduced government funding, and a statutory commitment in the area to spend £6million strengthening the embankments of Wilstone Reservoir. This is another hugely important reservoir for the Grand Union Canal, and the safety work to it needs doing under the Reservoir Act.  Canal and River Trust are actually responsible for 71 reservoirs,  most of which date back to the early 1800s. Their monthly published Reservoir Watch makes particularly interesting reading right now, as canals across the country are threatened with closure or restricted navigation because of a lack of water. The Grand Union South water holding at the moment is down by 1.5% in a month. Others where restrictions are in place like the Leeds and Liverpool Canal and Caldon Canal are seeing water levels in feeder reservoirs down by up to 10.7%. February and March this year were warmer and below average for rainfall. April 23rd was the last day we on our travels experienced any rain.  Some reservoirs in the north are also being held at low levels because of work to them. It makes some boaters nervous, and for those unable to travel outside particularly affected regions because of work or fixed moorings, their capacity to travel at all is severely curtailed.



Because of the stoppage on the Wendover Arm, we found ourselves faced with a closed for navigation notice saying only vessels of up to 40ft (we’re 50ft) could navigate and turn a restricted length. We managed to back the boat out of Bulbourne Junction onto the Wendover and moored up to head off to explore on foot. I have to say, much as Boatdog appears to enjoy cruising on the boat, this was a preferable voyage of discovery for her!

Down through dappled shade, the narrow towpath took us between fields, with moorhens and ducks the only passengers on the canal, with a single kingfisher speeding above the water. The outskirts of Tring suddenly appeared with garden fences alongside us, and crossing over a humpbacked road bridge where the towpath changes sides, we were abruptly amid industry – in the form of Heygates Flour Mill which fronts the Wendover Arm, and curves along its length. The history of the mill is evident from its architecture. The newer section is near the road, and as the Arm and the mill continues, older brick buildings rise five stories high. The smell is of flour and something else – cleaning fluids perhaps?

Once past Heygates, the Arm returns to bucolic surroundings, fields and horses, arable crops, with the water’s edge full of abundant yellow flags and reeds. The water is clear and plant life below the water, evident. Within feet of the pumping station at Tringford though, it’s a very different matter. The canal bed is exposed beyond stop planks and pumps and very dry. The walk to the winding hole is one of discovery still – huge mussel shells, a gas canister, and ubiquitous plastic bottles.

We made it to the end of navigation – just without a boat!



The Aylesbury Arm on the other hand is a very different story – 6.25 miles and 16 locks opened in 1814 to enable the transport of grain, timber, coal and building materials to and from the market town. It too struggles with water these days – we were held by CRT at the top of the Arm whilst they adjusted water levels in the top pounds because many were low and one was almost completely dry. It is a task which needs to be done most days now, apparently.

Originally, the canal was intended to carry on from Aylesbury to join the River Thnames at Abingdon, but wealthy landowners not keen for a commercial enterprise wending its way through their acres put paid to that. It stopped at Aylesbury Basin, and there it stops today.

The first two locks from Marsworth Wharf are a staircase, the only staircase in the Southern Region, and what a delight it is to be back on narrow locks again! The 16 locks give insights into the history of this stretch, with names like Jeffries, Gudgeon Stream, Buckland, Osier Bed, and Hills & Partridge. The Arm threads its way up and down these locks between fields and woodland. These areas produced goods that filled the commercial boats, which plied the Arm until 1964 when the last cargo boat made its final journey.



The birdsong is only drowned out by the overflowing locks – a feature of the water management system for the waterway. Water for this canal comes mainly from the Marsworth Pound flowing down over the head gates, from Wilstone Reservoir via a sluice on Gudgeon Brook and from another brook further down. The locks carry boats 94 ft 8 inches down (or up) along the canal’s length.

The canal buildings at the Aylesbury Basin were extensive,  including warehouses and at one stage a power station. Now mooring at the Basin is flanked by Buckinghamshire New University and Waitrose. Boats face the Waterside Theatre where comedian Ronnie Barker (taller of the two Ronnies) is remembered. He made his stage debut in 1948 in the town’s old County Theatre.



He’s not the only famous name linked to the town – Henry VIII allegedly wooed Anne Boleyn at the 14th century Kings Head whose wattle and daub walls and original glass are still attracting visitors (and drinkers) today. Yes, we visited – would have been rude not to!

Apparently that archway is designed to drive a carriage through!


So, dead ends we’ve discovered are far from depressing or bag-ends-of-nothing. They can be bag ends bulging with interest.



Want a win win win win situation? (and probably more wins too)

“volunteer (vɒləntɪəʳ) (countable noun)

A volunteer is someone who does work without being paid for it, because they want to do it.”

We’ve had 3 win win days this week – wins for us, wins for the environment and wins (we hope) for Canal and River Trust, the charity that looks after most of the inland waterways we travel and live on.

We have managed to volunteer for 3 days this week – Monday in the Milton Keynes area, Wednesday in Leighton Buzzard, and Thursday back in Blisworth in Northamptonshire. The locations necessitated getting hold of a car to ensure we could make them all, but it was worth it.

Each day was totally different, valuable in its own way, the tasks, the people we met, the exercise we got, and the environment we worked in. Each day brought new delights – new people to meet, an old friend to see in one instance, and wildlife to make us catch our breath in wonder.

The mountain is removed Himalayan Balsam- at least this lot won’t choke our native plants like the beautiful yellow flag iris

On one of the days, a number of our fellow volunteers were corporate volunteers, on paid for days away from their offices. One group were remote working colleagues, and it was a brilliant opportunity for them to come together doing something different, to catch up with each other and enjoy a day working.  Another chap was a lawyer who also works remotely for a large city law firm and enjoys taking his annual corporate volunteering day near his home. He said for him, and his firm, volunteering is an annual MUST.



Corporate employee volunteering is increasingly being encouraged. As we are self-employed, maybe we both encourage ourselves!  Studies and literature show that not only do organisations benefit from the altruistic impact of lending their employees to socially responsible projects, particularly within local communities, but their employees demonstrate enhanced team spirit and wellness as a result.



The wellness element chimes with me and is evident.



The health benefits are certainly physical for me, with all activities conducted out in the fresh air. This week, we’ve had glorious sunshine, too.



On Monday, I was walking, bending, stretching, and undertaking gentle lifting as I collected litter, carrying quite heavy bags by the end of the session. I was also helping to dig holes to plant small saplings and sowing wildflowers.



On Wednesday, I was bending and straightening for four hours, pulling invasive Himalayan Balsam plants out by their roots.
I also had the unexpected bonus of a mud bath! Somehow, I was the only one taking such a dip, although I was very rapidly and good-humouredly extracted.

And I saved both wellies too!



On Thursday I was again walking, stretching, lifting and bending as we filled holes in the towpath, picked up litter (in a CRT car park where there is actually a bin this HAS to be car drivers rather than boaters who aren’t angels either judging from what we find on towpaths sometimes). I do wonder why if someone has a car that has space in it and will presumably take them home where they have a bin, they can’t just keep their litter in it until they get home…



But crucially, at least for me, is the mental benefit of volunteering with CRT.



Surrounded by nature with its myriad greens, close to water with its peaceful calming reflections (when the willows haven’t shed their seed fluff so thickly it coats the canal), with the gentle rustling of breeze in the leaves of the trees around, there can be few better places to spend a day. This is forest bathing in some environments and certainly nature immersion whatever location you’re in. Wildlife abound to entertain, fascinate, and astonish. This week grey herons have been fishing and flying alongside us, mallard ducks have been parading tiny groups of fluffy brown and blonde ducklings, swans have been sitting on eggs as we pass and geese have been shepherding gaggles of yellow goslings on towpaths and along the canal. A mandarin drake added vivid colour (and proved very territorial). He may be small, but boy, is he aggressive!




Vital advice for anyone wanting to improve their mental health is to surround themselves with nature, to walk and look, to wonder and watch. This takes you out of yourself to the wider world and enables that sense  of being part of something bigger, something that endures struggles and difficulties but which has continued for centuries and will continue for many more. CRT volunteering provides all of this for me, plus stimulation in conversations, learning new skills, and meeting new people.



The other part of volunteering is the knowledge that you have value, worth even, that what you do matters and is recognised. However small the task, volunteering makes a difference. It counts. It makes the world a better place. Whether that’s mending a bridge, removing litter, restoring an old building, or washing signs. Every single task makes a positive difference, often to people you will never meet.



Isolation is a huge problem for many people’s mental health, and working from home only exacerbates that. Volunteering for CRT means meeting people, some new, some existing friends and acquaintances. This week I’ve met a delightful lady from Hong Kong now living in the UK permanently with her son and daughter-in-law, a lawyer from Northampton, a project manager from Chesterfield, and some fascinating people people from the areas we’ve been working in. They’ve been an invaluable source of historic knowledge, advice on good pubs and information about the area. They’ve generously shared with us their insight into where they live, and that’s enriched our time there.



So I and the Skipper have benefitted from our time volunteering, Boatdog too. She has been stroked and fussed, patted, and at lunchtime found volunteering groups a source of tasty snacks.

Dog tired after a hard day’s fun and fuss asleep on the Skipper’s hat



Wherever you live, there will be volunteering opportunities and we’d highly recommend taking them up on a regular basis whether once a year, once a quarter, once a month or once a week. We find we benefit as much if not more than the environment and charity (CRT) we are supporting. It really is a win win win win situation – a win for CRT saving the charity money on maintenance that needs doing, getting the work done and improving the environment. A win for us for our physical well-being and a big win for our mental health knowing we’ve made a positive difference and thoroughly enjoyed ourselves too.

Fragile but vital reminders

It’s been a week of remembering, celebrating and feeling immense gratitude.

Victory in Europe 80 years ago spoke of peace, an end to fear and suffering, of hope for all. It has added poignancy today as it appears some individuals and some nations have moved away from recognising the courage and strength required to be peacekeepers and peacemakers. We can hope that those who have that courage and strength can prevail against the greed and avarice of warmongers.

Eighty years ago, my father was in a Baltic prisoner-of-war camp, liberated but yet to be repatriated. My mother, a cypher officer, was in England, wondering what was happening to him and what would happen to them now. She was celebrating the unconditional surrender of the German army and the end of hostilities but had lost a brother and many friends as well as having her new husband shot down and imprisoned. Their lives had been changed for ever. They would never be the same people they were before the war.


War comes at a terrible cost.


This week, the freedom that we have to move freely without fear, to enjoy the sounds of birdsong rather than bombing, to choose how to live our lives has seemed even more precious. It is because of those who sacrificed so much for this peace that we can live like this. We must not forget.



On VE Day, I heard the Poet Laureate Simon Armitage deliver his commemorative poem, words full of the fragility of peace, of memory. If you haven’t heard or read it, then here is In Retrospect.


The Peace Pagoda in Milton Keynes is just a short walk from our current mooring. A thousand cherry trees and cedars are planted on the hill around the Pagoda in remembrance of victims of all wars.





Through the constant of trees, annual reminders of blossom and flowers, we can and must keep memories and reminders of the horrors and sacrifice of war to keep us and future generations as peacekeepers.



Simon Armitage puts it so well when he talks of the paper thin petals of the scarlet poppies appearing in expected and unexpected places year on year. They carry a huge weight as vital reminders for us all:

They nod and they nag,
reminding us not to forget, flagging a red alert
as their crumpled petals unfold.

At our peril, do we ignore their red alert.

Swanning about at work, and life



Monday mornings when you live on a canal are rarely heart-sinking events as they can be in conventional life, but this Monday brought a real heart-stopping, breath-holding moment.


From our dining table, desk, and workspace this week we’ve been able to see a swan nest, piled high with broken reeds by the pair of mute swans who have been, according to locals here, sitting there for over five weeks.

The first little one emerges



Sure enough, on Monday morning, two tiny heads emerged through the growing green reeds framing the nest. Guided from the nest by mum, and with dad waiting in the water for them, these two little bundles of pale grey fluff appeared to blow onto the water, apparently as unsubstantial as dandelion heads. Dad dutifully and determinedly positioned himself between any passing boat and his new offspring. Mum returned to the nest, and another two fluffy heads could be seen beside her.

Dad taking his duties seriously




By Tuesday morning, all four were on the water, again chaperoned by dad. You can tell the cob and pen apart because the cob tends to be larger, and the fleshy black knob at the base of the beak is larger on the cob swan.



They didn’t travel far from the nest, though, and mum seemed to have returned to sit once more. By that afternoon, 5 youngsters were on the water with dad. Mum still sat once more – exhausted or just seeking some peace perhaps…

5




Wednesday morning brought both parents onto the water – now in the company of 7 youngsters. It is possible for swans to lay and hatch up to 10 eggs, with the number declining as the parents age. This pair apparently laid and hatched 7 last year too.

7





Passing boaters, moored boaters, and local people all united in their delight at the sight. These little fluffy bundles bobbing about on the water brought us all out (the sun helped too), to just stand and watch their antics. They splashed and suddenly disappeared briefly under the water to emerge spluttering and shaking droplets from their downy feathers.



One of the biggest delights about living afloat is our proximity to nature, to moments like this. The canals of today, unlike the commercial canals of old, are places where nature thrives. We have a ringside seat, out homrs becoming floating hides among the woldlife. Living close to mute swans as we often do is a privilege. Locals walk by and enjoy the sight of ‘their’ swans, but when they’ve gone home to bed, it’s our boats the swans are knocking against as they nibble the weed that collects against the hull, or just wallop the side of the boat with their beaks to remind us to open up the swan hatch and reach for the swan food for them!





They might be called mute, but as anyone summoned by them knows, they are far from silent. They grunt and snort in a strangely piglike way – very effective at waking snoozing morning boaters.



In Spring, we regularly get to watch the mating dance of these beautiful big birds. Reminiscent of balls in period dramas, full of pomp and stately ceremony they bow to each other in turn before entwining their necks, often ending up creating that heart shape so beloved of Valentines cards!


Often, they float past the boat with a leg folded up against their back. It looks uncomfortable but is apparently a way the bird can regulate its body temperature. The large surface of their webbed foot is used in the same way an elephant uses its ears.


Work has been happily interrupted all week as the white and fluffy family flotilla call on us for easy pickings (our supply of swan food has been seriously diminished). We’ve also had locals calling by to ask if we’ve seen them as they’ve begun to move their youngsters further and further from the nest.

Anxiously I’ve been counting the small heads each time they pass us.  At the last count, there were still 7. Cygnets have so many predators – crows, herons, magpies, turtles, like and large perch, as well as the mink and foxes that can attack adult birds too. Last year, this pair sadly lost all their cygnets, so it seems the whole village is monitoring their progress with bated breath. We hear people counting out loud as they pass the boat when the swans are near.




If they survive, the youngsters will stay with their parents until about October, and then they will be chased away to join up with the first flock of swans they encounter. They will stay with them for about four years until it’s time for them as fully adult swans to seek out a mate for life, a lifetime that could be 12 to 30 years depending on the environment where they live.



In July, we will be heading down onto the Thames, and if we are lucky, we may encounter the rowing skiffs of Vintners, Dyers, and His Majesty the King, involved in the annual Swan Upping. This census of swans on the river will be taking place this year between Sunbury-on-Thames and Abingdon from 13-17 July. All the Crown’s birds are left unmarked, but those allocated to the Vintners or Dyer’s livery companies, will be ringed for identification. During the five-day journey up river, cygnets and swans will be caught weighed and health checked.




All the swans on waters other than the Thames automatically belong to the King. Perhaps it would be only polite for me to send him notification of the birth of his latest 7 here in Northamptonshire…

Travelling in the footsteps  and hoofprints of history

1805. Admiral Lord Nelson told his men that England expected them to do their duty as they approached the combined French and Spanish fleets at the Battle of Trafalgar, knowing many would lose their lives. As the smoke of cannons cleared, it was apparent the smaller fighting fleet of the British had triumphed, although 5,000 men, mainly French and Spaniards, were dead, as was Nelson himself.



That same year, a canal tunnel was opened in Northamptonshire that indirectly contributed to the war effort at Trafalgar that resulted. The opening of Blisworth Tunnel on the Grand Junction Canal was another key element that revolutionised the British economy, but lives were lost in its construction.




The tunnel we use today to pass in our own boat from the village of Blisworth in the north, along the 1 3/4 mile; 2,812m; 3075 yards to Stoke Bruerne in the south is that very same tunnel that was dug by hand with picks and shovels and wheelbarrows by navvies. Work began in 1793. The first tunnel collapsed due to quicksand. The second route is the one we use today.



Engineers set up poles as sightlines for the route of the tunnel, using the tower of  Stoke Bruerne church as the sighting point. Twenty shafts were dug, and some of these remain as air vents today. The resulting tunnel was originally brick-lined, but in the 1980s, a third of the tunnel was restored with a concrete lining.



The tunnel was just wide enough for two laden narrowboats to pass. Building a towpath to let the horses pull the boats would have been way too expensive, so manpower rather than horsepower was required to get a boat through a tunnel. Initially, boats were pushed through with poles, but soon, the system of legging tool over.

A model in the brilliant Stoke Bruerne canal museum shows just how legging worked (and how the workers were dressed)

It was quicker and more efficient. Men lay on boards at the bow of the boat and with their booted feet against the walls of the tunnel they walked the boat through. When the candlelit lamp of another boat was seen coming the other way, men on boat boats needed to rapidly pull in their boards to pass and then resume their passage. It was hard, dangerous work, and many leggers died in tunnels across the network as they strove to get their cargoes through these dark, dank subterranean commercial routes.



Blisworth was one of the canals where official leggers were employed by boatmen. After some claimed they had been terrorised into paying leggers, the canal company introduced easily recognisable brass armbands for the leggers in their employ. Wives and/or children escaped the underground confines to walk the horse over the Boathorse Road above the tunnel.



This week we’ve managed 2 trips through the tunnel – north/south followed by a prompt about turn and then south/north, all to try and find a mooring on a wet Bank Holiday Monday. We finally found a mooring back in Blisworth, and so later in the week, we took the Boathorse Road or Tunnel Path.



There were horses with us too – from a local stables rather than towing horsepower. We trod in their hoofprints and in those of their forefathers as skylarks soared high above, and buzzards rode the thermals in a blue, blue sky.



From Blisworth, we passed the imposing mill that once turned the rural Northamptonshire air rich with exotic spices shipped from lands far away, like cinnamon and nutmeg.



By the tunnel entrance near the stable where horses would wait to be reunited with their boats, we began to climb up to the fields above, across the springy grass with tunnel shafts show the route of the canal. The path now is not the most direct, which presumably it was in days gone by, but it makes for a delightful walk, rejoining the towpath just after the southern entrance to tunnel by the blacksmiths forge. 

Southern entrance with one of the concrete lining sections




That forge was also the former tug boat store because from 1871 until 1936, the practice of legging was overtaken by progress. Steam tugs that could pull 10 fully laden boats were employed to bring boats and their cargoes through the tunnel. They halved the travel time to 45 minutes ( now our engines enable us to pass through in 25-29 minutes).



All that steam belching out meant the air vents were event more important and created yet another job – the need for the tunnel to be swept regularly of soot. Initially they would cut down a large bush and mount it on a boat to scrape the tunnel roof as it moved along, but after a while steel bristled brushes were attached to a tunnel shaped frame that was fixed to a boat. Progress meant more noise, more pollution, but faster deliveries for industry, and safer passage for those on the boats.


Blisworth tunnel is a perfect example of the pace of change. It is also a perfect example of how we who live and travel the waterways of Britain travel in the hoofprints, footprints and indeed in the wake of those who went before us. We are very aware of the history around us as we move.



Our work and our boats may be different to theirs in many cases, our lives safer and easier, but we follow the same routes, travel through the same tunnels breathing the damp, dripping air as they did, and passing through the very locks they navigated. We live their history thanks to the work of campaign groups, the Inland Waterways Association, British Waterways and now the charity Canal and River Trust who shoulder the responsibility for the upkeep of the 2000 miles of our canals and rivers. 

Our waterways are a remarkable living museum

Reflections on many, many things!

Happy Easter everyone! I was delighted to be near this boat this week in a bit of serendipitous mooring!



Hire boats packed with multigenerational holiday makers are evident on the waterways this week, which is great to see.  As Boatdog and I passed a moored one we heard a small girl being reassured by her Granny yesterday that the Easter Bunny would easily find a narrowboat because they moor very close to rabbit holes in banks alongside the towpath!

I don’t think she’d know what to do if she encountered a rabbit!



We’ve seen plenty of rabbits in the rolling fields around us, as well as skylarks which have been a delight. The fact that skylark song seems able to our ears to drown out the sounds of planes in the skies above them is glorious. It reminded me of that first lockdown five years ago when birdsong seemed positively deafening when it didn’t have to compete with traffic noise. The skylarks make me nostalgic for that element of lockdown.



It’s hardly been a week of frenetic movement afloat, but time for a bit of work, a bit of maintenance and some volunteering as well as welcome catch ups with family and friends. We have travelled more by bus rather than boat this week (to do a ‘big’ shop).

It makes me realise how lazy we became with the car at our disposal all winter. Shopping was a drive whereas now we walk to the bus stop, enjoy a sociable journey (particularly liked by Boatdog who always becomes the centre of attention), discover more of villages around because of circuitous routes, and then walk around local towns rather than just arriving in a supermarket car park.

We get to markets, to side streets, to local independent cafes on our shopping expeditions, and have conversations with local people that give us insights into the area, as well as plenty of steps and a bit of weight training thrown in! Presumably this was one reason previous less car-reliant generations appear slimmer and fitter in images from their day.

Back to conversations…this morning, I learned that just as Milton Keynes was planned for London overspill, so Daventry in Northamptonshire was planned as an area for Birmingham overspill. Famed as a centre for radio, the town’s Borough Hill, an ancient earthwork, housed the BBC’s long wave and eventually also shortwave transmitters for years. Those transmitters played a key part in the Cold War with the Soviet Union up to the end of that conflict in 1991.

I also discovered that Daventry Market has an excellent plant stall, plus great fruit and veg although I honestly can’t verify the shout of “Get your local fruit here” when the first thing that caught my eye were grapes! Most being brought in at this time of year from Chile, Greece, Morocco, Mexico, or Portugal!

Plants were local though, nurtured in poly tunnels. It means we have some pelargoniums and new for this year some yellow Tumbling Toms tomatoes. I just have to hope the change of weather doesn’t kill them off as they are now on the roof, joining  sweet peas which have sprouted well in the old cutlery tins.

I’m hoping these sweet peas will become spillers – spreading across the roof or across other containers



The old adage about planting 4 seeds to get one plant:  “One for the rock, one for the crow, one to die and one to grow” is different for a boat roof garden. I believe 4 is still the number to sow but as my soil has no rocks to impede growth, it’s the pincer movement of heat later in the year from above and below (the garden sits above a metal roof after all) that puts paid to some of the crop. I’ve never seen a crow on our roof but pigeons and magpies and some ducks make up for them, and all enjoy some fresh green shoots.

Some seeds just don’t germinate, inside or out.  I’m struggling this year with the chillies that came from a new packet and just have decided they aren’t going to grow.  This means that when something does sprout and makes it to maturity and can be picked, the joy of that success is all the sweeter.

Hopefully, before we move away from Northamptonshire, I shall have acquired a tyre and some good rotted manure to create the perfect environment for courgette growing on the roof. That’s going to be this year’s new veg experiment.

Whilst volunteering, it was great to clear undergrowth and excessive growth, using the off cuts to form dead hedges for wildlife, and create a flood water diversion experiment. Within days of the undergrowth being moved, new growth was apparent, purple violets and curly fronds of ferns emerging. A timely reminder that wherever and whenever things look barren and bleak – nature is at work if we look hard enough. Not everything needs to be seen to be happening.





Volunteering as continuous cruisers is something new to us and to Canal and River Trust too. It’s taking a bit of organisation, but it’s worth a bit of hassle because we meet fascinating people and feel hugely positive about giving something back to a charity that depends on the contribution of volunteers to support its work on the waterways. These are after all, the waterways on which we live so the meant we can do is contribute a bit of effort to the upkeep of them and their environs.

It should also help to work off all those Easter eggs I’m hoping the Easter Bunny will bring – when he finds our boat! (It’s been a long Lent without chocolate or alcohol!)

Resuming work/life/move balance



Humans (and dogs) are adaptable beings. We’ve slotted comfortably back into our usual move-moor routine after the winter mooring and winter stoppage delays.


The weather has been glorious, which has made boatlife and the usual chores that go with it, a delight. Cleaning windows in the sun is a pleasure. Watching the sunlight stream through clean panes makes one nothing less than smug. Washing can hang straight out and dry on the line in just an hour or so. Locks are easier when walk boards are dry and the sun delivers a vital top-up of Vitamin D during any waits for lock filling or emptying.



It seems a long time since a hugely sociable trading day last Saturday at Foxton Locks where clothes pegs were the essential order of the day, stopping crafts from vanishing in the blowy conditions.  The only thing I lost was the “Cash or Card” sign which was easily fished out and soon dried off!



There were fascinating people to talk to; boaters from Yorkshire and Northamptonshire; customers from Turkey, Poland, Japan, and Leicester; and the very welcome visit of a friend bearing chocolate biscuits. Trading was surprisingly brisk, and so part of this week has been making more to restock Moving Crafts.



We indulged ourselves on Sunday with a trip to moor just past the Welford Arm junction, and a chance to take a long country walk into Northamptonshire alongside sprouting fields of wheat, through villages with honey coloured ironstone cottages topped with thatch, via a shop for essential provisions and a pub for essential refuelling, and all under a brilliant blue sky.

These repurposed village tardis lead to a whole new reading experience



From there, we made it to Crick, home of the Crick Boat Show in May, and we’re delighted to discover the village book exchange in a phone box still going strong. We also found a new-to-us cafe with utterly awesome breakfasts. Pickle and Pie at 23 is definitely an address to remember!

Yum!





Over the years we’ve passed Cracks Hill, a domed mound created during the past ice age. Those remembering GCSE geography might recall moraines formed from the debris of a retreating glacier. The Romans are later believed to have used the hill as a sentry point, and it certainly gives a great view.





On the way back, I spotted the first tiny ducklings I’ve seen this year. A welcome reminder of Spring, and as we’ve passed the Equinox I’ve taken time to begin sowing the veg roof garden. Spinach (don’t tell the Skipper – it’ll be smuggled into dishes), coriander, cornflowers, calendula, and salad leaves outside with basil and chillies inside. Flower seeds courtesy of the amazing Higgledy Garden – if you don’t know them there’s still plenty of time to find them and order your seeds for a stunning show. I planted some of their sweet peas in the tins that used to hold all our cutlery in the old kitchen, and tucked them up in a recycled plastic bag I found. I’m delighted to say they are sprouting with alacrity and will provide some of the spillers’ colour for the roof garden in time. The garden relies for spillers, thrillers and fillers – everything that can spill over is preferred as we ruefully remember the first year of continuous cruising when we grew things that actually prevented safe navigation – we couldn’t see over the plants and in some cases ended up having to take certain items ( like potatoes) off the roof into the cratch when we cruised, for safety!



Tumbling tomatoes, strawberries, nasturtiums, and of course trailing plants are welcome. Low growing veg and flowers are great too, and this year I’m searching for a suitable tyre to recycle into a courgette planter.



The Skipper has begun the annual repainting task with a start on the roof (that roof I’m hellbent on covering in plants!). Sanding off and treating rust spots, applying primer, and then a top coat. The roof is grey, and going through Watford Locks proved a great opportunity to admire the new paintwork.

Spot the new paintwork!





The dog was particularly pleased to leave Crick, although we’ve no idea why, but she was a nervous wreck while we were there, hiding in corners and unhappy to jump onto the boat. Was it the bright night lights from the marina? The distant noise of the road? Some strange smell we couldn’t scent? No idea.



We had forgotten how wet Crick Tunnel is – does it take the wettest tunnel on the network prize? But the dog was unfazed – just delighted to be leaving Crick  appeared. We moored up again by Welton Hythe and she was instantly back to her usual happy self, contentedly sitting with us as we worked, enthusiastically walking miles in the evenings and sunning herself with glee. By the time we turned off the Leicester Line onto the Grand Union, her Crick terrors were long gone. 

Sunning herself on the Skipper’s discarded jeans – the shorts are out!!!



More painting, prep for a possible stall on Saturday near Whilton Marina, a bit of work, and a chance to talk with CRT about volunteering en route as well as completing more training for new roles, has kept us busy.



The seven locks of the Buckby Lock Flight were done in the company of nb One Day. There was a crew of 4 on board their boat so with me setting ahead we came down without a hitch, crossing with nb Poshratz and her butty being ably steered by a small, capable and confident Skipper. It’s great to see youngsters, from who’ve been brought up on the waterways to those being newly introduced,  enjoying them. They are the key to the flourishing future we all want to see. On that note, part of the Fund Britain’s Waterways flotilla passed us at Whilton, heading for Little Venice raising the profile of the vital campaign to keep investment in our waterways to maintain them for their value in terms of economic, environmental and social well-being.

Hard at work




Every day back moving as continuous cruisers after a winter mooring pause makes us grateful for the waterways, that we’ve made this floating life work for us, that we live and work as we move, and of course we are now working in the glorious surroundings of our awesome kitchen crafted by Ben from Holm Oak Trading.

Sometimes you just have to move on…

We’re back on the move, with this week encapsulating the variety of life afloat on the inland waterways of Great Britain.


In five days we’ve travelled 28 miles up 42 locks. We’ve moored in a city (surprisingly quiet considering we were alongside university student accommodation), outside a village (peaceful) and in the middle of fields where bleating lambs and frogs croaking to attract a mate made for noisy evenings!




We’ve shared the waterways with kingfishers (every time I see one, I haven’t had my camera), herons, swans, ducks, and moorhens. We’ve passed frothy white hedges of blackthorn blossom and brushed under bright lime green willow curtains. Everythjng smells fresh and new.

Moving as we do through nature really makes us feel that Spring is all around us. Nesting swans are greedily amassing broken reeds to build their platform nests, and signs from last year remind boaters not to endanger the sitting swans or their impending young by letting highly territorial families meet.


We’ve travelled alone and in company, supporting for 12 locks and 9 miles a solo boater. We had the help of Canal and River Trust volunteers on the staircase of 10 locks at Foxton, as well as the help of gongoozlers, including a family from Israel with two young children. Over here to visit English family they said their time watching slowly travelling narrowboats was welcome respite from their part of the world and the conflict raging there, but when I asked if they wanted to stay here in safety the mother said no, she wanted to be home with her children.



Our world is very different from theirs, from that of many people who watch our slow progress at places such as Foxton, and yet it is a world that always elicits curiosity. One of the delights of living afloat and travelling at walking pace is the many conversations you strike up with curious Gongoozlers. In the past 5 days we’ve been asked where we’re going several times, and people have been astonished to hear us say London, Bath, and Birmingham. We’ve been asked how long it will take us to get to London, and we have to say we could go rapidly to get there in just over a week but it’s likely to take us between two and four months! (To the tidal Thames at Brentford is 60 cruising hours, so it depends how often we stop and for how long, as to how long that journey takes.)



Boatdog has enjoyed being back on the move, meeting new people, exploring new places, and she’s gained confidence to jump up onto one of the seats at the back of the boat as we cruise. Until the bird scarers fire in the fields protecting the crops that is – she hates them, and they make her cower every time they go off.

We’ve worked this week too, and this weekend we aim to trade from the boat in the sunshine at Foxton, making the most of the Spring weather although stock is low after Christmas and with all the work on the boat I haven’t crafted much to restock but hopefully that will now change.

I also managed an unexpected couple of trips this week – and on both occasions revelled in not having the car. It has meant walking much, much more, and discovering things en route. The first was a chance encounter with the Leicestershire Records Office in a former school in Wigston. In their archives, I unexpectedly found details and an image of my great grandfather’s hosiery factory. I learned with astonishment that: “The works and warehouses comprise a group of lofty brick buildings I a very convenient and accessible part of the town, with every facility for the receipt of raw material and the despatch of the finished hosiery goods to all parts of the world.”

I learned that the three partners were “gentlemen of great energy” and that they employed up to 500 staff at their Leicester factory alone with more employed in works at Burbage and Wigston. My next task is to discover what happened to these businesses and their buildings.

The second unexpected trip led to a new innovation on board. Thanks, Aldi, for the supply of a larger air fryer, and astonishingly it’s in the same colour as our fridge – almost as if we planned it! Staff at Aldi in Wigston were delightful after I visited to ask on Wednesday night if they would have any of these specialbuys in the next day, because if so we would stay on our mooring overnight and set an early alarm to ensure we made the half hour walk up to get one when they opened. They couldn’t guarantee them but an early alarm, an early walk and I arrived in store to be beckoned to one side by a delightful man (stupidly I didn’t get his name) who had a mint green air fryer in a box just ready for me to buy. A walk back, rapid unpacking, and we were off our mooring by 9am with it proudly in place. At some point this weekend, I shall have a go at baking with it – there – I’ve committed myself!



Being back on the move is energising, exciting, and bizarrely simultaneously relaxing. We seem to pack more into each and every day.

Biophilia indoors is bringing evident benefits

One of the most popular and most watched episodes of Grand Designs was that of woodsman Ben Law, handbuilding his cruck-framed home in the Sussex woodland he manages.


The thought he put into making the wood the centrepiece of his incredible home and the care with which he handcrafted every element appealed not just to me but to viewers across the globe. The sheer beauty of wood sung out thanks to his skill.

At the end of that series he said how much the house and building it had changed his life and how he lived. We can’t all build our own home from scratch, but we can, without doubt, benefit daily from the beauty of wood around us.


Trees and their wood have been fundamental to canals and built the original boats


Wood is our oldest construction material. It is both renewable and durable. These days, we are aware of its carbon positive nature – wood is effectively a carbon sink, positively addressing climate change.Because it is a natural resource, it is non-toxic.



It is naturally insulating, and whilst combustible, it burns slowly, predictably, and measurably.

It ages naturally, becoming ever more attractive with the years ( something that many of us envy!). When it does come to the end of its life, its natural breakdown is not environmentally damaging.


But for me, the most important and evident benefit of wood in construction is the positive impact of it on our well-being and health. This is based on wood’s biophilic properties. Biophilia relates to our innate need as humans for connections to nature. The word stems from the Greek for love of nature. Sociologists and psychologists have researched and written about how wood in construction, particularly in offices and homes, can reduce stress and blood pressure and result in more positive moods as well as increased concentration.


Those studies have been across the globe – Biophilia benefits have been noticed in British Columbia, where a study showed wood surfaces in offices, lowered heart rates, and decreased blood pressure, resulting in less stress. In Europe, a study compared wood and plaster indoor finishing and found the wood created more positive emotions in participants.


Being surrounded by nature on the boat as we float through our life and work has always been a hugely positive part of boatlife for us, but now we have the delight of nature within thanks to the beautiful bespoke wooden kitchen built for us this month.



It is evident that this tactile, smooth, and natural crafted kitchen it is already changing how we feel, how we live, and how much we enjoy our floating home. I’m sitting writing this whilst stroking the beautiful warmth and grain of the substantial worktop on which my laptop is resting. I defy anyone to come aboard and not stroke the curves of the solid beech worktop, to trace the shapes and patterns, the whorls and waves within the wood, that tell its stories.




The beech is one aspect but the upstands and cupboard doors have different tales to tell being made of black walnut, and beside them maple and oak bring their unique qualities to a kitchen which is nothing short of remarkable.



Every day, I find something different, a different pattern, a new addition to how we live because of this remarkable piece of craftsmanship. We have the benefit that this beautiful kitchen was built for us by a young man who is a master of his craft, and he’s also a boater. As such, he understands the need to maximise space, making the most of every centimetre on the boat and of the beautiful wood he uses. There are elements that are nothing short of remarkable. Above the sink hangs a crafted draining cupboard that is nothing short of art. It holds our crockery and washing up, doing away with the need to have an unattractive metal or plastic drainer taking up space and breaking up the beauty of our sea of beech worktop.

Cupboards have been designed to cope with the sloping tumblehome od our nartowboat and to specifically fit particular elements important to our life, like a beautiful hand cranked sewing machine (thank you Roena) and a (new) air fryer. Drawers are designed without intrusive handles. The plinth is full of drawers, and there are no less than 7 drawers in this exquisite unit.




Now we play the game of ‘Where does this live?’ But there’s no frustration in that, even if I have to open every cupboard and drawer in the kitchen to find something, it is a delight to do so. This beautiful carefully crafted kitchen is just breathtaking, as gorgeous to use as it is to look at. It is making a massive, positive difference to how we continue to live and work afloat.

A week of Ws

Work. Wood. Wall cupboards. Work. Weirs. Waiting. Wallpaper and a bit more Work.

That’s our week – how’s your week been?

This weekend, we will be getting the wall cupboards and the final work done on the kitchen – thanks, Ben.

It’s been a week of sanding, oiling, seriously admiring and stroking the tactile curves and smoothness of our beautiful beech wood kitchen worktop/breakfast bar. We now have 2 immaculate high stools thanks to a bit of recycling courtesy of Facebook marketplace and a delightful lady in a gorgeous converted barn who decided they didn’t want them any more. Waste not – want not. (That’s a couple of Ws I’d forgotten!)

Skipper celebrating at the bar with a whisky

Early in the week, Work involved some volunteering. This week we were near our boat mooring itself, collecting litter, including hoovering up a  Henry alongside the River Soar (why?); painting the bridge over the Weir, clearing the weir itself of debris amassed during the floods; and making good damaged handrails.

Later in the week, work was hugely varied involving house bathroom upgrading, higher education strategic workshop planning, HEA Principal Fellow discussions, charitable applications, and fundraising comms.

In between, we’ve been recycling and taking trips to tips and charity shops for ourselves and other members of the family.

Whilst we are waiting for the completion of the stoppage work that Canal River Trust is undertaking at Birstall Lock ahead of us, we wait. We are having no problem filling the time – including the delight this week of an exclusive invitation to a portrait gallery exhibition at a special 7 year old’s school. His self-portrait was brilliant, and I’m honestly not biased!

We made it up to Birstall this week to see how work there was going. What do you think – will it be open on 28th March as currently predicted?

And.. we finally made a decision about a now exposed wall in the new kitchen. We are going to give it the wallpaper treatment- the only bit of such decoration on board. We decided on a subtle, abstract design…only to find we couldn’t just walk into a shop and buy a roll. Oh no, we had to order online and wait a week, and we only decided on what we wanted two days before we need to out it up. So this morning found us charging round Leicester to find what was available so we could get it up before the wall cupboards arrive this weekend. Is it subtle? Is it abstract? No. And No.

As you can see, we took the wall (fortunately not a bulkhead!) out to a convenient nearby pub table (thanks to The Waterside) and papered it off the boat!

As you can also see – no subtlety involved! Piratical parrots, though minus pieces of eight, seemed strangely but suitably nautical!

We can guarantee it will be a very different looking nb Preaux that sets off this coming week thanks to all these efforts!