Friday, April 28, 2017

Plenty happening where nothing ever happens

Look at this. Can you tell where I ran out of wax polish? Of course you can. It's quite striking isn't it? That's Craftmaster for ya.

We're back in Banbury having had a very good trip down to Heyford and back. We all know it's been cold this week, but during most of our cruising it's been sunny and the countryside is looking gorgeous. Funny how we set off, just the two of of us, and ended up having quite a social time. On Wednesday we caught the train from Heyford into Oxford to see Julius Caesar. Turns out we were 2050 years or so too late of course, but there was the Bill Spokeshave play about him being broadcast to the Odeon, so we satisfied ourselves with that. Typical Spokeshave play, dead bodies all over the stage at the end and I get distracted by wondering how they get all the bloody costumes washed and ironed before the next performance.

Earlier, while we were strolling among the dreaming spires a text came in from dear old / (young actually)Mort Bones simply saying "I spy a Herbie". Well we had left the boat just up the path from her famous barque. Sadly we were out cavorting until very late, so we agreed to meet up aboard Herbie for a breakfast cuppa at 8am next morning. Even at that early hour she arrived bearing cake. What a star! We do like Bones.

Sadly, we had to depart all too soon because Rick and Marilyn had arrived to crew us back to Banbury and we needed to get there in time to plan an assault on the Reindeer Inn quiz that night. Next time Bones we'll plan a proper do.

We did alright at the quiz, but not good enough to get in the prizes. Frustratingly, the quizmeister admitted that he had planned the music round to be on 50s and 60s stuff. We would have cleaned up! But he changed his mind that day and played 90s
Indie tracks instead. Bad oh. We managed to recognise Blur, Oasis and Pulp between us which might be more than you can expect of old farts like us, but anyway it wasn't enough.

Then today came a knock on the boat and auld acquaintances from home Bob and Fran off Nb Song and Dance appeared out of the blue and so we all had tea. So our quiet "just us two" cruise had turned out to be a lovely week meeting friends. Good innit?

Tonight I embarrassed myself by tripping over a kerb outside Tesco Express and falling flat on my face on the pavement. There was a loud bang as the big bag of Kettle crisps I had just bought burst under my prodigious weight. I'm comforted to tell you that several kind young folk emerged to help this poor old bugger to his feet. I suspect that they thought I might have had one too many sherberts, but I assure you that I had not. I just tripped. Honest. The crisps were still edible but somewhat crushed.

Saturday, April 22, 2017


At last we've managed to sneak off to Herbie for a week while nobody at home was looking. Well amost nobody. Of course that Mr Schafernacker on the telly must have spotted us because the weather is due to turn cold on his instructions.

Days when we move out to the boat are always the same.

0800hrs. I lie in bed and wish I had got stuff to take ready yesterday.

0900hrs. Large piles of this and that accumulate in the hallway ready to load into the car. I look at it and doubt we'll ever get it all in.

1000hrs. I am amazed. It's all in the car and the boot isn't even full. Easy peasy. I feel good.

1005hrs. Kath reminds me of all the stuff we have to take from the fridge and appears down the stairs carrying bags of embroidery stuff, a laptop computer, and a lot of clothes on hangers. I remember we still haven't packed shoes, what seems like 50 different types of charging leads for all our gubbinses , our coats and raincoats, and two boxes of firewood. It'll never go in. I feel bad.

1015 hrs. I wedge the final item into the car's boot, sadly having to leave behind an Oxo cube we had no space for.

1030 hrs. We're on the road. Five miles from home, Kath says, "I know what we've forgotten." I turn the radio up and keep going.

1900 hrs. So here we are on Herbie. All is unpacked and stowed away. Kath is reheating the remnants of yesterday's spag bol. "What happened to that Oxo cube?" I turn up the radio and pretend to study a Nicholson's guide.

Tomorrow we head south first to Banbury, then next day to where the phone signal and the Internet and TV reception are a distant memory. They'll never catch us there. Never mind, we still have a box set of Broadchurch series 2 to watch.

Sunday, April 02, 2017

Herbie’s unique gun deck revealed

You may know that you can look up a register of all the licensed boats on our inland waterways.  The list currently resides on Canalplan if you haven’t noticed it before.  All kinds interesting things can be seen there, some of them very surprising.  Who would have thought that there would be 32 boats called Hakuna Matata but only two steel narrowboats called Herbie! There’s a Herbie II and a Herbie III and a number of GRP Cruiser Herbies including a Herbie IX.  “Oi up”, I hear you say,” the title of this post says Herbie is unique, and there are two of ‘em”.  Ah, but read on for the literally incredible difference in our boat.  Yep, I do mean LITERALLY incredible.  Note this is NOT written on April 1st, it is genuine.  If you don’t believe me look it up for yourself.

Looking into the detailed record of our boat in the listing, I confirm things I spot every year on our licence application, but cannot change.  In Herbie’s dimensions section we see the following:

“Length : 15.24 metres ( 50 feet ) - Beam : 2.08 metres ( 6 feet 10 inches )”  so far, so good, but wait, –

Draft : 5.48 metres ( 18 feet )”.!!!

Blimey, no wonder we run aground now and then.  I thought we had plenty of headroom inside, but the bilges must be enough for an extra couple of decks below.  Maybe that’s where the cannons ought to go and then we could have the powder magazine in the Orlop deck like on HMS Victory.

Reading on we come to the details of the propulsion unit and it says:

“Power of 999 HP”!!

Crumbs! I reckon we should get an uprated gearbox and a bigger prop. With 18ft draft we could have a huge one then we could go water skiing down the canal.

How these figures got there I can’t imagine, although it could be that the 999 HP is a default for “not known”.  I know we are supposed to be living in a post truth society, but this takes the biscuit.

Talking (admittedly obliquely) of fakes, you might be interested in a true wildlife story.  A while back I wrote that I am woken most mornings by the call of a red kite over our house.  We’re quite used to him or her now, but we still look up when we hear his cry, because like me,  he’s a handsome devil.  Well the other day I heard it and when I looked up he was nowhere to be seen.  What’s more, it wasn’t the time of day he normally patrols over us.  Then I heard the cry again from our neighbour’s roof and I looked up to see an imposter.  Would you believe it the flippin’ starlings have learned to imitate the call of the kite!

Is nothing sacred?

Tuesday, March 28, 2017

Locking time calibration

Trying to find an average time taken to  through a canal lock is a daft thing to do, so of course I had a go at it last week. It’s akin to asking how long is a piece of string.  Nevertheless, on our trip down to Banbury and back, we did have a go at it and I don’t think I would have predicted the results.  On Canalplan (genuflect genuflect), Nick suggests a default time of 12 minutes to pass through an individual lock.  I had been thinking that that might have been a trifle optimistic, taking into account that half the time the locks will not be set in your favour when you arrive.  Well it turns out that the Herbie crew,( i.e. Kath and myself, a well oiled machine, often well oiled by closing time too but that’s another story) can do a bit better than Nick suggests, given a lock with no other boats to wait for.

We measured the time from when the crew steps off the boat to work the lock until the time when he or she gets back on board and we continue cruising.    Bear in mind a couple of things.  a) These were narrow Oxford canal locks with double bottom gates and b) the steerer assists by working the offside paddles when the boat is at the top of the lock and c)we try not to walk right round the lock to open both bottom gates but shove one of them open by standing on one and giving the other a hefty back heel, it works.  Often I’m happy to step across the gap between and open and a closed gate, but Kath understandably doesn’t try it. So, in summary we’re reasonably slick at it.  Anyhow here’s how it went.

Downhill, lock in our favour on arrival               6 minutes

Uphill, lock in our favour                                  6 minutes

Downhill, lock set against us                          10 minutes

Uphill, lock set against us                                8 minutes

Downhill, one boat in front +I waiting below,   15 minutes

Not exactly a scientific study, the sample was way too small, but over all it actually was a lot quicker than I would have guessed.  I imagine if we tried it in the school holidays on this popular canal, we’d be happy to average 15 minutes.   So the answer is, it all depends.  It might be six minutes, it might be an hour.  I think that outside peak times I might go for an average of ten minutes.  Let’s suppose then that we do ten locks in a day (they don’t come thick and fast down the Oxford), the difference between Nick’s 12 mins and our 10 mins would only make a difference of 20 mins all day, and we might easily waste that chatting or messing about before we start.  Proof if proof were needed that boating is not an exact science.  Does that make Canalplan or my CanalOmeters redundant?  No, not really.  Having some idea of how far you can expect to get in a day, or a week is really useful, especially when in unfamiliar territory.

One other thing. We also worked out our average cruising speed.  I would have estimated 2.5 mph or less, given that in places there were long lines of moored boats to crawl past.  In fact it turned out to be 2.8mph.  I think that’s a figure we’ll stick to on this canal.

Friday, March 24, 2017

A gongoozler's point of view

Working through Banbury lock today, I had a pleasant chat with a young lady with a Geordie accent. "There's still time to come across the top gate." I said, "I wont be opening it until the water is level". She looked incredulously into the lock as the water poured through and said, "You've got to wait until the water is level?? That'll take hours." It was only after she had gone off into the shops, that I realised that she probably thought that the paddles had to be open until the water in the pound above the lock would fall to the level of that in the lock. Well she would have been right then wouldn't she? That would take hours! I like conversations like that.

Another thing she said, looking above the lock to where Kath was holdng Herbie mid canal was "How did you get off the boat when it was in the middle of the water?" I resisted the temptation to say I jumped or swam. I just said that I had stepped off. She looked impressed.

Last night we had another go at the quiz in the Reindeer and this time we failed to win the booby prize bag of sweets for coming last, in fact we were doing really well until the inevitable music round. Perhaps I should mug upon the works of ACDC and Ed Sheeran and some other bands I can't now recall the name of.

Our short excursion this time has been lovely now that the weather has improved. The hedgerows up here are still in springtime arrears compared with down home below the M4, but lots of celandines and violets are out.

I've been noting our times between bridges and going through locks in an effort to calibrate my canalometers better, and the early results look interesting in so far as they have surprised me. How long do you think it takes to pass through a narrow lock, from stepping off the boat to getting back on? Obviously it all depends on whether the lock is set in your favour or against, and whether there are other boats about. We had a mixture of all that, but in all cases I was surprised. I'll posts some results when I've had a better look through my scribbled notes.

Wednesday, March 22, 2017

Herbie Neil leads post Brexit export drive

The UK economy has swollen by an additional 1.25 US Dollars in export earnings this month. Philip Hammond must be relieved and its all down to me. Yes, someone in the United States has been reading my book! I didn't know it had been translated into American. It's all very exciting.*

In these days of streaming and all that, people can "borrow" a book from the Kindle library and it counts how many pages they read and I get paid accordingly. I get to see a monthly graph, so I see that on March 10th someone in the US read all 344 "Kindle normalized pages". I don't think it was Donald Trump, because he or she got to the end and I used quite a few long words. Someone else appears to have read it all over three days in February. Add that to my actual book sales over the period (zero) and that's two people who have actually finished the book this year. I'm thrilled. That's exceeded my expectations by two.

Actually it is quite gratifying that people who start the book generally finish it, so I must have done something right, especially as they read it so quickly. The book must be a page turner obviously.

Those eagerly awaiting the sequel probably ought to find another book to read in the meantime. I'm still struggling with the plot.

Any ideas what I could spend a dollar twenty five on?

*PS This is definitely not fake news!

Tuesday, March 21, 2017

Stranded but enjoying it.

Well, we're here on Herbie but we ain't going nowhere, or to be grammatically correct, we are going nowhere. The idea was to tootle down to Banbury, but when I climbed out of the boat this morning the wind nearly knocked me over. Had we set off for Banbury, the wind would have been hard on our starboard beam nearly all the way, straight across the open fields. Not wishing to get pinned against some unfortunate liveaboard, we decided to stay put. That's fine, it's cosy and comfy here and still a break from home.

Now here's a tip for you. I found out that the lovely people at Midland Chandlers(MC) will give you a fiver each (25%) off fire extinguishers if you hand over your old ones. We drove over to Braunston on Sunday to do just that. I've been meaning to replace them for ages as they are 15 years old and if you shake them, the powder doesn't move. I had assumed that MC sent them back for refilling  or something, hence the discount, but apparently not. They actually have to pay a small charge for their disposal, so the fiver off is just a discount to encourage you to have them safely got rid off. Ain't that nice? So if you want to set fire to Herbie, now would be a good time, 'cos the extinguishers ought to work.

As we were in Braunston we thought it would be rude not to patronise the Gongoozlers Rest cafe boat, so Sunday lunch was a whopping gert bacon and egg doorstep with scallop potatoes. Lovely.

Our stay on Herbie is not wasted. Kath cleared out all the long out of date jars and tins of this and that from the galley cupboards and I replaced the water filter element and, um, not a lot else. I also note that we have a bottle of Jim Beam that needs finishing up, so that's on my to do list.

Thursday, March 16, 2017


Setting my music player the other day to a random shuffle of old stuff, I found myself listening to Simon and Garfunkels “Old Friends”, containing the lines ”Can you imagine us years from today, sharing a park bench quietly.  How terribly strange to be seventy”.  Hah! That doesn’t seem to be how it turned out for me.  This week I’ve been taking garden prunings to the tip, sweeping chimneys, sawing logs, going to the cinema, writing a computer program, improvising minor pentatonic blues solos at a ukulele session and playing bagpipes with a couple of lady friends who play concertinas. I’m looking forward to the park bench if and when I reach eighty.

It looks like the weather might  turn wet and windy over the weekend, so of course we’ll be out on Herbie for a bit. We should have gone earlier, yesterday was sublime.  I was on the boat however, up to my neck in soot and ashes clearing out the stove and sweeping the chimney, which requires the removal of the fire bricks and the inner roof plate of the stove. Funny how I can never remember how it goes back in.  I hope I’ve done it right.  I was pleased to see that the hand made bracket that Rick made to secure the blanking plate at the back of the stove was in fine fettle, unlike the original one which cracked.  Cheers Rick.

Driving up to Cropredy it was interesting to see that more  blackthorn blossom is out at the bottom of the M40 than it is further up. I’ve heard it said that spring marches north at the speed of a walking man, so maybe more will be out on the Oxford next week,  What was out at Cropredy though, was a skylark in the field next to the marina, letting rip with it’s  twittering high up in the air.  Tryng to attract a mate no doubt.  No good twittering at me mate, I’m already spoken for.

Thursday, March 09, 2017

Weedy thoughts

fishandanchor (1 of 1)

When I were a lad, for several years I spent virtually the entire summer standing in the middle of this picture. It’s the ford across the river Avon by the Fish and Anchor pub at Offenham.  Nowadays there’s a lock cut a few yards to the left of this photo, but there was no navigation in those days although as far as I recall, boats had been invented.  As you can see, the river is shallow at this point, even below the ford it’s only a couple of feet deep.  The oxygenating effect of the ford brought the fish into the foamy area and I was there trying, and mostly failing, to catch a few.  We would take off our shoes and socks and roll up our trouser legs and wade out across the ford,  slipping and sliding on the cobble stones which were covered in silk weed.  How we never fell in, I’ll never know.  The silk weed was very comforting once you got to stand still, rather like standing barefoot on a sheepskin rug.  The weed itself held an abundance of tiny larvae and wotnot which of course the fish would like to eat. We would drag our bare fish hooks through the weed to pick up a bit of it, then cast it into the foamy race below.  The current is pretty swift there and in a few seconds our fishing floats would be thirty yards downstream as we squinted our eyes to see them.  As I said, I never caught much but I didn’t care. It was a lovely place to be.  In the eddy between the ford and the tree to the left of the picture, gangs of marauding perch used to swoop on the shoals of minnows that huddled there, and once I saw a creamy white pike (albino??) about three feet long, just lazily hanging about in the shallows. It was like a ghost.

Jump forward fifty years and I think it’s the same type of weed that tries to grow on edge of the boat’s baseplate like a little whispy beard.  At Bulbourne on the GU I’ve watched the carp grazing along the side of the boats, presumably more interested in the larvae than the weed itself, and of course ducks do the same don’t they?

I used to lie in bed aboard Herbie in the early morning and hear what I thought was scampering on the roof.  For a long time i assumed this was the pitter patter of rodent feet as they scavenged for a bite to eat.  Only in the last year or so have I realised that it isn’t that at all.  It’s the ducks pecking along the water line picking off the weed, I suppose that makes it some sort of symbiosis.  They get fed and the boat gets cleaned.  Down the old Slough Arm, the boats at High Line Yachting suffer badly from the weed, they have beards worthy of ZZ Top, most of them, and thinking about it I don’t recall seeing many ducks down there.  Maybe I should suggest that they import a few.

Friday, March 03, 2017

Insurance small print - you ought to read this.

Yesterday I actually got round to thumbing through the small print in our boat insurance policy. (Euromarine Insurance Sailplan policy)  How many of us rarely do that? Well, it’s worth it because I came across a paragraph that took me by surprise.  Under General Policy Exclusions it has the usual stuff about War, Sonic bangs, Cyber attack(!!), Riots, Pestilence (OK not pestilence) etc. Then under “Non standard uses of your craft” it says:

Unless it is noted in your schedule you are not insured if you use your craft:

Hiring  . . blah blah

single handed if your craft is more than 10 metres in length unless endorsement 25 is shown in your schedule

blah blah

Blimey!  I’m not a regular single hander, but I do now and again move Herbie solo for half  a day or so. So for the last ten years I have been periodically unwittingly  uninsured!  I would have thought that there was more of a chance of an accident when single handed, so I thought I ought to do something about it.

I rang up the insurers and explained the problem and to my relief they added the appropriate endorsement to my schedule at no extra charge and with absolutely no fuss.  So the message is, do look at the small print and if you find a problem ring up your insurer. If they’re anything like EIS you’ll find them helpful. I have occasionally looked for cheaper quotes but EIS always wins.

Changing the subject. There seem to be a number of dates which can be said to be the start of spring.  Although I generally go with the equinox, it is getting a bit spring like round our way.  Lots of crocuses, snowdrops and daffs on the road verges and bird action in the hedgerows. In my scruffy garden I’ve got hellebores and primroses as well as a big clematis in full flower as it grows up the huge holly hedge that keeps us from seeing our deceased neighbours. (We back on to a churchyard).

Fountains, the firm who do the hedge and verge maintenance for CRT are forbidden to do any regular hedge work over the nesting period so they’re probably sitting in their huts drinking tea and sharpening their chainsaws for a bit. It’s odd how bird species come and go.  We never see a sparrow or a thrush now, but every morning we get woken by a red kite mewing as it patrols over our house.  Thirty years ago we would have had to go to mid Wales to see one, now we just go into the garden and look up.  One day I’m going to put out some food to tempt it to land in the garden and see if I can grab a good photo.

Toodle pip.

Saturday, February 25, 2017

The Perils of Planning

When I was a working man, for twenty three years I did the same 25 mile journey into work every day. Over the years, the duration of the journey became less and less predictable, sometimes 50 minutes, sometimes nearly two hours. It didn't, take much to cause a delay, a burst water main in Teddington, a burst lorry tyre on the M3, road works in Kingston, whatever. In the end I resorted to leaving home before 7 am to avoid the main part of the rush hour, but still the journey home after work was totally unpredictable.

Why am I telling you all this? Because it's getting a bit like that on some canals and I've been thinking about it while playing around with programming new CanalOmeters. Every day, I think of improvements to make it easier to use, but in the end anything that estimates a journey time has to be taken with a big pinch of salt, even on a canal.

My first cardboard Canal0meter, way back when, was based on journeys into London from the Slough area. At that time, you could keep up a steady speed and with there being no locks until Camden, the journey times were pretty consistent. Even heading north up the GU, the traffic was so light that queueing at locks was rare and there weren't that many moored boats to slow you down. These days, with all the moored boats, it's a different story.

Then I've been thinking about other unpredictable places. Take Watford locks for example. On a good day, you might arrive and go straight in, passing through in forty minutes. On a bad day you might have to wait a couple of hours to be let in.

Or how about the Oxford canal which gets very busy in high season. A lock taking less than fifteen minutes in the spring, might take an hour in the school holidays.

Or how about a river which might slow you down to one mph against a strong flow or sweep you along at 7 mph the other way?

Then there's your crew. When we went up the Hatton flight alongside Nb Chertsey, good old Jim went ahead on his bike and every lock was open and waiting when we got there. We probably shaved a minimum of an hour off the ascent that day. Probably more.

So any calculating system for predicting journey times is fraught with difficulty. Nick Atty's wonderful Canalplan gets closest if you can be bothered to set the defaults. He lets you choose different speeds for wide and narrow canals, wide and narrow locks, and locks in flights. Maybe he should also set it for areas with moored boats, although that would be a non trivial and ever changing exercise to keep the data current.

In the back of my mind I can hear dear old Maffi saying "Why the hell do you want to do all that anyway? Why not just set off and see how far you get?" He has a point, but then again, he's a continuous cruiser and usually not on a schedule. Lots of other folk have a finite time for a trip and they want to plan how far they can get in the time available, or perhaps to plan stopping places overnight, or to check whether to stop at this pub, or risk reaching the next one in time. I think I'm right in saying that Canalplan is the number one visited canal related website for those very reasons, plus of course sometimes to compare different routes to the same place.  It's also worth being aware before you decide to set off from,say, Banbury that the journey to Stratford-upon-Avon, about 36 minutes in a car,  involves 101 locks each way!

So despite all the 'if's and 'but's I'm still fooling around with making myself CanalOmeters because , being a bit of a Nerd, (or should that be Geek?) I enjoy doing it, and sometimes they come in really handy. The latest Python version I knocked up only yesterday is dead whizzy, but I have some ideas on how to make it even better.

I think they call it displacement activity.

Thursday, February 23, 2017


Ooh Er! Hang on to yer hats. My wheelie bins at home have blown over twice this morning, so now I've had to rope them up. It all seems a bit violent for someone called Doris doesn't it? The Beeb weather app tells me that the wind will get up to 62 mph in Cropredy today. I fear for Herbie's solar panel whose tilting frame is only held down by magnets. It is also attached by a cycle security cable, so it won't blow completely away but it could I suppose flap about and get damaged. The goodish news is that I think the wind will be blowing along the length of the boat from the stern end rather than across. Anyhow I'm glad I've already removed the poles and planks and stowed them inside.

No doubt if any harm comes to her, the exceptionally kind and helpful staff at the marina will let me know.

Monday, February 20, 2017

RCR problems in London and yet another CanalOmeter version

Nearly time to renew our River Canal Rescue membership. I notice from their web site that they are having all sorts of problems dealing with live-aboard boats in London, due largely to the poor condition of many of the boats and the lack of knowledge/experience of their owners.  RCR even hints that they might have to insist on an inspection (presumably at a cost) before they agree to a contract with boats inside the M25!  You can read about it here.  Thinking back, I don’t think we’ve had to call them out since 2010.  Touch wood we don’t have to in 2017, but you never know.

Speaking of London, I am reliably informed by Oakie that my ugly mug appears twice in the latest issue of Towpath Talk in an article about CRTs “consultation” on London towpath improvements where I was helping out.  I advise those of a nervous disposition not to look, although I have lost a stone in weight (really!) since then and intend to lose another stone by the summer.  Daily walks, portion control, and reduction in alcohol is how I’m doing it. If anyone has any will power going spare, please bung it over here.

Whilst marooned at home, I have been avoiding any proper jobs by making robot buggys and doing some computer programming.  In order to test my skills in the Python language I have created yet another sort of CanalOmeter.  You can’t really beat the old cardboard ones for quickly estimating journey times from A to B, but my new version, which works on a smart phone or tablet does all that but also has a useful feature in that it contains every feature along the canal, bridge numbers, water points, winding holes etc, such that you an just type in “water” and up pops a list of water points, then you can choose one and it’ll tell you how far away and how long to get there.  Similarly “winding” or “sanitary” or “PH” (for pub).  I’ve just done this for the S Oxford so far.  I would happily give this away to anyone who’d like one but sadly it would mean that you’d have to install a copy of Python on your Android phone/tablet first and install the data file (which requires a certain level of know how), which is perhaps more than a lot of people would want to do.  If anyone would like to be a guinea pig I’d be happy to oblige with the files and instructions.

Thursday, February 09, 2017

This and that

I promised to reveal the name of the object which the Ashmolean museum claimed to be the most significant archaeological object in the UK, (or some such words).  Clever old Rainman got it right when he suggested it was an aestel.  No, I didn’t know what that was either, I told you he was clever.  Anyhow, the precious object is an aestel or more specifically, The Alfred Jewel

Image result for alfred jewel

More vibrant in real life than it looks here, it is worth seeing.  As I said before it’s not much bigger than my thumb, but the detail is amazing and it looks as good as new. It was dug up in 1693, by which time it was already 800 years old.  Of course the frame is made of gold, which is why it hasn’t corroded and the enamel picture is sealed under a piece of beautifully clear rock crystal.  I wonder if stuff being made today would last as long.  The inscription around the edge says Aelfred mec heht gewyrcan which as we all know (not) means Alfred had me made. Presumably he was too busy burning cakes to make it himself. Anyhow, there it is. Never say I don’t bring you the odd bit of culture.  Now you can casually drop the word Aestel into conversation and look erudite. Should you find yourself in Oxford, by boat or otherwise, take half an hour to go and have a look.  It won’t cost you a penny.

The canal was still pretty high on our return from Banbury. It’s mucky out there and some top gate footplanks are still under water.  Sometimes I have the nerve to jump across an open bottom gate on narrow locks, but not this time. Even with my new grippy soled walking shoes it was very slippy everywhere.

I can’t put my finger on it, but coming along the canal you get the feeling that although Spring has not started, it’s getting ready to. Maybe it’s the light, or maybe it’s the increase in bird activity in the hedgerows, but there’s a distinct feeling that life is returning. All the winter leaves and twigs have blown out of the bushes and they stand clean and bare and just waiting to come into bud.  Of course, there’s plenty of time for a cold snap yet, so I did still drain down the plumbing on leaving the boat.

I’ve now got into the habit of taking anything I can off the roof when we leave Herbie, which means stowing the poles /shafts and gangplank inside the cabin.  I remember Phil Speight advising this long ago and he was right. I wish I had taken heed at the time because the trapped moisture under these things has led to paint damage and rust.    This year I will complete the repainting of the roof, but I’m not going to start until average daily temperatures are comfortably above ten degrees.  Someone once told me there’s usually only one day a year when the weather is right for painting a boat.  I suspect that they were right.

Sunday, February 05, 2017

Floods, a trolley, the Kinks, precious objects and a good cafe.

The waters are slowly subsiding. I'm thinking of sending out a dove to see if it comes back with a twig in its mouth. (See, despite being an atheist, I do know a bit of scripture). Anyhow the colour of the canal is toning down a little bit, although the top gates of Banbury lock are still overflowing.

On Friday we caught the train to Oxford and looking out of the window at flooded fields and catching glimpses of the Rivel Cherwell in full flow, we decided not to take Herbie any further south this week. We might be daft, but we're not suicidal. So today we tootled down to the tramway winding hole and back, and now Herbie is back in the town centre but this time facing North. Choosing a spot to tie up in Banbury, you have to get your head around the complicated mooring limits. There are three different zones (four if you include the permanent moorings and five if you include the winter moorings). Each zone has its own rules regarding length of stay, and these are different in summer and winter. It's just as well I'm a genius or we might be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Actually there's plenty of space here at the minute, but on returning from the tramway we did pick the only no go spot in town. The boat just wouldn't come into the side. Kath prodded around with a boat hook and located a submerged shopping trolley. I don't know if you have ever tried to lift a shopping trolley with a boat hook, but I don't recommend it. Suffice it to say the trolley is still there.

The reason we went to Oxford was that we had booked tickets to see the "hit" musical Sunny Afternoon at the theatre. I'm not a fan of musical theatre, but I thought we'd give it a go as it was the story of the Kinks with a lot of their hit songs in it. Well, it was fine. Musical theatre was not my cup of tea, and still isn't but it was fine. Not great, but fine. Others in the audience clearly thought is was a lot more than fine and gave the show a big ovation, so what do I know? I think I would better have enjoyed going to see a Kinks tribute band. But it was fine.

Oxford has many attractions of course and in the afternoon (which was anything but Sunny) we continued our exploration of the Ashmolean Museum, this time getting as far as the musical instrument section where you can see some priceless old fiddles and viols and whatnot in glass cases. Violins are in my experience very hard to tell apart. The Stradivari "Messiah" on display, presumably worth millions, looked like a lovely piece of work, but could I tell it from one worth a couple of thousand? Sadly not. Maybe if I heard it being played, but these instruments in their glass cases don't get played because they would get worn and in the end they wouldn't survive for future generations to see. Sad ain't It? Apparently most of the instruments in the collection are not in their original condition anyway, most having been repaired or modified in the past. I bought a little book to read all about the instruments in the collection and now I want to go back and look more closely.

Also in the museum we came upon an object claiming to be the most important archaeological find in Britain, but I'd never heard of it. It was indeed extremely pretty and not much bigger than my thumb. Can anyone guess what it Is? I'll tell you next time, perhaps with a picture if I can find one.

We found one more good thing in Oxford that I must pass on. In George street, only a short walk from the canal, is the Crisis Cafe. Almost opposite the Wetherspoons Four Candles pub. We just went in for a cuppa and a bacon roll, for lunch but watching the food coming out to customers we were impressed. Big portions of healthy and wholesome food at very reasonable prices, filled jacket spuds, salads, nice looking soup, and all profits going to the Crisis homelessness charity. Our bacon rolls were huge. I don't think Kath finished hers, well not the bread bit anyway. It gets a four star Herbie recommendation.

Thursday, February 02, 2017

Coffee and diy

Herbie currently floats on a sea of milky coffee. Admittexly more white Americano than Latte ,but that's how the canal looks anyway, after a lot of recent rain.

Yes, we're out afloat again. Hooray.

If anyone needs some water, there's plenty spare down here on the Oxford. Here and there the canal has spilled over onto the towpath and the footways across the top gates of the locks are under water. Where did I put my wellies?

As you can imagine, the bypass weirs at the locks are pretty fierce too.

Our original plan was to tootle down to Oxford, but I suspect we wouldn't get past Nell Bridge if the Cherwell stays this high.

So here we are safely tied up in Banbury and enjoying its delights after a double dry January. Dry 1 because I had a month without alcohol (save for a glass of wine on my 70th birthday -you wouldn't begrudge me that surely.) And Dry 2 because we haven't been on the boat, hence no blog posts.

Herbie was of course glad to see us but gave me a rap over the knuckles by springing a leak round the chimney collar and dripping rain onto the stove. I've been meaning to sort out the rust just there but I'm doing the roof refurb in sections starting at either end and the chimney is in the middle. So I've bodged a temporary seal with gorilla tape pending suitable weather for a proper job.

The other job I had to do was install our new water pump which I bought before Christmas. Well, it is in and working, but not without the usual DiY unplanned obstacles (it's not just me is it?). This modern plastic pipework is all very well, but unlike the old copper pipe you can't bend it round tight corners so you have to use elbow joints. When you need an S bend as I did, it soon turns into a dogs breakfast, especially when you lose one bit then go out to buy replacements but you can't because the design of the fittings has changed, so you buy a whole lot new bits to replace the whole kit and caboodle, then you find the bit you had lost in the first place. Mmm it probably is just me.

Tonight we plan to have a go at the quiz in the Reindeer. Our objective as usual will be to avoid coming last. Who said we weren't ambitious?

Monday, January 09, 2017

An old man posts

Long time no post. Sorry, its been Christmas and all that.

Today I have moved from being a sexy-genarian to a septic-genarian or something like that. Thanks to all those who wished me a happy birthday on Facebook and elsewhere. I don't do Facebook these days but I'm technically still up there so I got all the messages.

Now, this is supposed to be a boating related blog, so here is a picture of a boat.

This one was on the Lancaster canal when we were up there last week. It was flippin' cold I can tell you.

Later that day we went to see a man on the beach at Crosby. He didn't have a lot to say

Here's Kath asking him to say cheese.

Well worth a visit if you're up that way.

Herbie is OK, (thanks for asking). We dropped by yesterday to check she was still afloat and that recent cold snaps hadn't done any damage. Despite the low sun and a lot of dull weather, and the loo fan running 24x7, the solar panel had managed to keep the batteries full, so that was good. The engine started first kick and ran as sweet as a nut. Good old Herbs.

Next time at Herbie I have to fit our new fresh water pump. In the years since the boat was built, plastic water piping has gone from screw fit to push fit, which is a bit of a pain as I have to fit new into old and finding the right bits isn't easy. Ten to one I'll get what I think will work, then have to go back and change it. That's DiY for yer.