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!

Handcrafted beauty and making a stand against the U.S.A.

Glorious weekend weather, a talented and hard-working carpenter (with serious muscles), and an accessible hard-standing towpath have made a massive difference to our life afloat this past week.

We now have the bulk of a beautiful, bespoke kitchen plus dining area, crafted from oak, maple, black walnut, and beech.

The sun (and there has been some this week between showers and hail), lights a vast expanse of beech which is being nurtured daily. Painstakingly pampered, sanded, and oiled. Once a day for the first week, once a week for the next month, once a month for the next year and once a year after that. I think I’ve got that right!

There are drawers – no less than 7 in one area, and secret ones that I can’t quite remember where they are! There are pull-outs and cupboards, and yup – we can’t at this moment find anything because we have no idea where we put it!

It is hard to remember what was here before, and I can’t wait until I can use the vast expanse of worktop, to sit comfortably at the breakfast bar to eat meals instead of twisting round a curved table edge as I’ve done for the past 5 years. It will be bliss and probably wonderful for the digestion.

Food too can be different now – we have an air fryer (basically a mini oven) and an induction hob. It means grilling is effectively now a thing on board.

I’m waiting until everything is complete to give you the Grand Tour, but suffice to say true craftsmanship combined with the inherent natural beauty of wood is a thing of beauty. As I write, my hand is stroking the smooth curves of this remarkable kitchen.

It’s still chaotic on board. The floor needs finishing. There are many things waiting to be found homes and living in a small space when things are piled high is far from easy. This past week, though, has seen a dramatic step towards a new way of living (and working) afloat.

In other news, which hasn’t brought any rays of joy, after 16 years on Twitter (now X) I’ve posted for the last time. I cannot justify staying with it because of its current owner. I’ve moved to bluesky (as DeenaI). I’m also trying, because of its owners’ outspoken support for the current US regime to wean myself from an unhealthy dependence Amazon. They seem small and probably to some, insignificant protests, but every successful marathon starts with a single step. It also makes me feel less helpless in a world that seems to be spiralling out of sensible control. What, I’m interested to know can we learn from what you’re doing to seize some control?

I’m fortunate in many ways. I have the calming capacity to stroke a Boatdog (and now caress a tactile kitchen), to look out at gently moving water (we’re still on a river and out of flood at the moment), walk the towpaths and watch wildlife all around. All are guaranteed to bring perspective and relaxation.

Living Jenga = excitement & chaos

Older boats are like older houses. You start one job and another 6 make an appearance. They also demand because of their dimensions that  doing work anywhere affects another area because everything has to move to produce working space.

This week is a major milestone aboard Preaux, a week when we are making another massive change to how we will live (and work) aboard. We have ripped out the kitchen which the Skipper installed to keep us going. It consisted of shelves with 3 doors across and an open shelf unit.

The kitchen on Monday

Having moved our battery to LiFePO4, it’s given us more capacity, and that means a chance to move away from using gas for cooking. That was forward planning needed to make a change of hob. The hob for the past 5+ years has been our only consumer of gas, and it has meant we’ve been carrying 2 gas bottles. The bottles are situated at the back of the boat in two storage lockers. This week (thanks to a CRT volunteer heading to Sawley) we sent our smeg gas hob and two gas bottles to boating charity Vets Afloat.

Jenga – food moved into shower, chaos everywhere!

And the hob wasn’t the only thing to go from the kitchen this week. The sink and tap, the worktop, the cupboards, and shelves have also gone. Basically, there is no kitchen left!

This gives us a chance to retrofit insulation behind where our new kitchen will be, and to explore yet more strange wiring which has appeared as we’ve pulled out elements which might have been in the boat for the past 30 odd years.

It’s also been necessary to rebalance things. Under the old floor were kerbstones being used as ballast. Replacing the kitchen is going to create more weight, so 4 of those have had to move. That’s around 160kgs taken from one side of the boat, so as I write this, she is listing by approximately 4 degrees. That doesn’t sound much, but it feels like a lot more.

So we’ve now got a blank canvas.

There’s so much choice and decision-making in making any replacement with an older boat or older home. Should one go for a traditional look, or a modern contemporary style, or replace with what the boat would have had in 1989 when she first went in the water?

Buying off the shelf kitchen units is possible, but they then need to be cut down. That is necessary to maximise the available space, slotting under the gunwhales and making wall cupboards hang well, taking into account the tumblehome, which results in a slanting narrowing as the boat rises from the gunwhales to the roof. Effectively, each kitchen needs to be bespoke.

Narrowboat interiors are as diverse as boat owners, and we have been in negotiations for months with a skilled carpenter and friend, whose work on his own boat we have long admired.

So what would you go for? Original, bespoke or contemporary?

We will be hard at work this weekend, so by next week, I hope to be able to show you an internal transformation, and you’ll be able to see for yourself.

From this…to…?

We’re done – it’s over.


That’s it then – all over.  How did that happen so quickly?



For the first time in our five years of working and living afloat on a narrowboat, we took a winter mooring. Somehow it’s been nearly four whole months that we have remained (most of the time) in one place.





Some people go  into marinas at winter time, and others take advantage of private moorings, but many, like we did, opt for winter moorings arranged by Canal and River Trust (CRT) the charity that has responsibility for most of the inland waterways we use.



There are CRT winter moorings available in selected places across the network, from Yorkshire to Wales and the South to the Midlands. They are made available on a first come, first served basis from 1 November until 28 February. Boaters can choose a month or more up to a maximum of four months. Prices range across 7 bands from costed per metre of boat per month from £8.50 to £26.20. That price is influenced by the location; the price of moorings nearby;, availability of services and facilities nearby like water, waste and rubbish disposal and in some cases electricity; and demand. For ours, water, waste, and rubbish are a short walk up the towpath or a cruise up the river. There is no electric point, and we have positioned ourselves to avoid trees to maximise the available solar energy.



This winter, there have been only two boats moored on the 100 available metres of our chosen location, so there’s been plenty of space for travelling boaters to join us, but no one has. There’s just been us, and Joe. It has been very quiet on the river, perhaps because we’ve gone in and out of flood with anticipated regularity.



We were late arriving on our mooring because of delayed CRT maintenance further down the River Soar, but we made it in the middle of November and we have been able to stay until now, the end of winter mooring.




Advantages?

We’ve not had to plan travel around winter stoppage programmes, which can result in us being stuck in places we wouldn’t have necessarily chosen.

At last we’ve been able to officially join the thousands of people who give their time regularly as volunteers for CRT, working to improve the waterways. We’ve undertaken our required training and enjoyed working alongside many different people, all committed to supporting the waterways that, for us, furnish a wonderful way of life. We are now working with CRT to find ways we can keep volunteering as we continually cruise from place to place.

It has been a huge bonus, and the main reason for us taking this mooring is to be near family. We have been able to help out and be part of their lives again on a regular basis. That may mean we’ve spent way too much time and money in certain coffee shops, but it also means we have had the fun of weekly school pick ups, and the chance to see the world through the rejuvenating eyes of a 7-year old. We’ve been to Panto together.

We’ve made it to school performances, helped in school and at Beaver Scouts, been on the touchlines for football matches and weekly training sessions, and cheered on family runners in competition.  Maybe now as we are becoming fixtures, it’s a good time to move on and let them all live their lives in peace so that when we do come back they’ll be (hopefully) pleased to see us again.


It has been wonderful returning to an area where we used to live and work so we could catch up with many friends. I know many of them visit the boat wherever we are, but it’s been great to catch up with them more regularly and to visit their homes.

We haven’t had to even think about where we needed to be to fill up with water, dispose of rubbish, or empty the loo – it’s always been a known short walk or cruise away.

Nor have we had to worry about overstaying our allocated allowed time on our mooring

We have been able to have the car with us, although I shall be glad to live without it once more and not just because I managed to give myself the new experience of an expensive Speed Awareness Course in lieu of points. Oh, for a maximum of 4mph again, and the need to walk everywhere again.

It has been hugely advantageous being able to plan to get major necessary work done on the boat knowing that we didn’t have to move the boat to that work, we could tell people where we were and arrange visits/appointments. As a result, we now have a fantastic lithium iron battery system and are about to have a beautiful bespoke kitchen installed… more on this next week when it begins to become a reality.

It has been wonderful to get involved with community projects. I’ve been involved in helping fundraise to get a primary school sensory room off the ground. I won’t be around to see it to fruition, but I know I’ve brought people together to make a difference.

I’ve also had the real joy of being able to get involved with the local Spinners and  Weavers Guild. I’ve learned so much in the process. I’ve also conveniently been near a yarn producer…or is that financially a disadvantage???



Disadvantages?

Having the car to hand has definitely made us lazy! It got me caught for speeding and we’ve used it too much.

Static views can grate on the nerves after a few weeks we’ve discovered.

We love to move, to explore with our home is what we adore doing,  but we have hardly moved in 4 months.

Cost – for us £500 for the winter period in addition to our licence fee

Flooding – we knew it was likely on the river, but river levels exceeded previous records this year, and people were evacuated by the fire brigade from just near our mooring. We were offered the chance to leave our home, but we just loosened our ropes to keep ourselves afloat and sat tight.



Winter mud on the towpath has created a constant cleaning battle inside the boat but it hasn’t been anywhere near as bad as we found it on the Ashby Canal last year or in other years on other stretches but as we were continuously cruising then, we could pull up our ropes and move on in search of better surfaces.





Would we do it again?

We would definitely consider it.



Where are we going next?



Initially we are stretching our wings to go just a mile or so further on for the final winter major renovation work, and we will have to then wait because winter work at a lock further on has been delayed –  the team working there have found it a frustrating job with more issues and storms have caused additional hold ups. Once that is open and they are now saying that it should be late March, then we will set off again, and we will be ready and happy to do so. Our maximum moorings after that will be back to 14 days in one spot.