Narrowboat Journal

Monday 23rd to Sunday 29th March 2009

It’s time to move off from Slat Mill Lock – into a breeze but pleasant enough.

On the outskirts of Banbury we spotted the house with the owner’s picture high on the wall, the one that Graham mentioned the other day. Very tastefully decorated.

Did a quick run ashore in town for banks and shops and a bit of magnet waving under the lift bridge to see if we could find Derwent 6’s chimney. Found loads of nails and a horse shoe but no sign of a chimney. Our last stop was close to Morrisons to stock up on provisions before cruising into the countryside again.

I do wish they’d install something solid to tie up to at Morrisons because there’s not a lot to get your mooring spikes into and every boat that passes drags us along the canal and makes horrible holes in the towpath.

Do boats have wheels? No, then there must be a shopping trolley stuck under our bow. While V was up the shops I poked about and tugged at it with the boat pole but then the shiny brass bit on the end of the pole disappeared into the oggin. Darn, more expense.

Looping a rope over the wheel I pulled the blighter out only to find that the wire sides were stoved in so it’s finished its life as a trolley. Expenses were mitigated somewhat by finding a pound coin still up the chute. Prodded and got it out before stuffing the trolley into the bushes ready for the next yoof to chuck it back in the canal.

Clouds gathered and the wind blew and it was a case of any port in a storm. The rain caught us at Twyford Wharf. Wind and rain reminiscent of the Bay of Biscay in winter hit us as we dashed for cover. Throwing ropes over anything firm we dived inside with wringing wet clothes just as the storm abated. As in previous days we were then overtaken by Chief Cornstalk, Spellbound and Bowman.

Somewhere along the way we had spotted the breach that Harnser reported to BW. Standard answer – yes, they know about it. I expect they’re “monitoring” it.

The next day we overtook Chief Cornstalk and a hireboat that kindly pulled in for us and put in a fair day’s sailing rather than cruising, in a wicked side wind.

Chancing upon ‘Dusty’ (07986 189074) we relieved him of coal and gas and a few canal stories before ending our day at Dashwood lock.

It’s been another good day for spotting things, we found masses of these funny looking flowers along the bank on the towpath side. They look like washed out Hyacinth but my book thinks they’re Butterburs. Could it be right?

We finished up at Thrupp on Wednesday and spent the rest of the day messing around with inside jobs or loafing in easy chairs recovering after what felt like climbing Everest. Does anyone else feel over-tired on windy days?

Caught a crazy ‘local’ hairing up and down the canal. Wonder who it could be?

Yes, this is M and M territory and it wouldn’t be right to miss out on seeing Mort and Maffi. This excellent blend of practical skills, inventiveness and humour soon had us laughing and I retired that night with fresh ideas for making money on the cut, something to do with combining bed and bog.
I have to say I’m impressed with Bone’s boat fit-out skills. Her carpentry, metal bashing and painting are faultless. I know that’s so, she told me.

Thursday saw us down the Boat Inn with the two Ms after a day of nothing remarkable that I can remember. We were introduced to PJ at the bar, boaters at the tables and
Mark Paris who struck me as someone who might be fairer than some when it came to performing the dreaded Boat Safety examination. Not only that, his price equals the best we’ve seen on the cut and he’s prepared to travel 20 to 30 miles around Thrupp and he’s got a brilliant motorbike. Must get a picture sometime.

Friday was almost a repeat of Thursday with the exception of an entertaining evening at an impromptu leaflet workshop run by writer and performer Kate Saffin. An hour whizzed by scribbling the number 6 on hundreds of fliers for the first performance of “Isobel’s War”. Don’t ask. Just turn up at The Old Library, Radcliffe Square, Oxford between April 6th and 8th for a choice of £4 or £6 seats at 6pm or go HERE
More info can be found HERE and HERE

We did well for boater company that night as Brian and Diana checked in on their way back through Thrupp on Harnser. They could see how much we enjoyed the leaflet workshop and weren’t slow to join in.

I wanted to hear more about Kate’s adventures down the Bristol Channel and talk some more with Mark Paris but eyelids said no and the bed was calling loudly.

Saturday meant new arrivals and we were up and about early enough for Mike and Jo not to catch us in our nighties. Bang on coffee time, Sarah-Kate turned the corner and found a space right next to us on the 14 days. This pair looked like we’d felt a couple of days ago. Norbury Junction to Thrupp in hardly any time at all, in gales that wear your patience thin when you’re stuck on the bank, I take my hat off to them. I’d calculated a Sunday arrival at the very earliest.
Well done both. There was plenty to talk about around the table Saturday night.

With Mike and Jo joining us I’m a bit out of my league for walking so V took the pictures on a circular walk around Thrupp. Discovering a deserted village marked by its church and Hampton Gay manor house is well worth the walk (I’m sure it is).

Sunday is a day of rest before our adventure starts. The journey south to the Kennet & Avon will involve a two day transit down the River Thames so our eyes are glued to the weather forecast in the hope that we don’t get a repeat of the last two years’ floods.

Whatever happens to the river and to Balmaha we are safe in the knowledge that we have a lifeboat in the form of Sarah Kate. She’s proved herself capable of refloating after turning 45 degrees in a lock and she’s sure to be there to pick us up if anything nasty happens. No pressure Mike.

For those of us who read the adventures of No Problem we are requested to retune browsers to a new link on Blogspot.

Sort yourself out Sue.
Wanna new server? I can recommend one (and get paid for it).

Monday 16th to Sunday 22nd March 2009.

The week began with a cool but sunny Monday morning in the company of two overnight anglers. Different to the daytime match anglers these guys are friendly, and without the pressure of competition they exchanged pleasantries with us. “No bites, apart from mosquitoes” but they’re all smiles and said they enjoyed their night at the water’s edge.

Crick Tunnel was so wet that I couldn’t have complained if we’d been charged for a boat wash.

On the other side of the tunnel Watford Locks was bathed in sunshine and our friendly locky was there to start us through.

V takes a rest while I studied the brickwork on my way down into the slimy cavern.

Just out of interest has anyone got suggestions for things to do on the way down into deep locks as the water empties? I’ve tried leaving messages on the bricks but have never had a reply.

Half way down the Watford flight, on a wooden post next to the side pond, I spotted a picture of Rosie the dog. Assuming the worst had happened I paid my respects and laid two red roses on the ground, which left V with 10 stalks in the vase on Balmaha to mark our honeymoon anniversary. Yes, I was a day late with the flowers.

Holding the boat at the side above the bottom lock I was hailed by a blog reader, the skipper of nb. Dougal who was just negotiating the narrow entrance to the lock above. Hope the spelling is right, I didn’t see the name on your boat. Ours was shiny like yours, once. Enjoy it while it lasts.

The cottage at the bottom of Watford Locks is still for sale. It looks idyllic for a canal enthusiast but might not suit anyone planning on working night shifts. The ‘tick-tick-tick’ of paddle gear and purring of boat engines right outside the bedroom window might get on the nerves. But just imagine buying the cottage with the rights to the lock itself and charging a toll, what a money spinner in summer.

It’s been a long time coming but finally the towpath between Norton Junction and Welton Wharf is getting some attention. There were only one or two places to moor on that stretch due to subsidence and although the canal bank restoration method probably won’t lend itself to mooring boats there shouldn’t be any complaints from walkers and cyclists.

Must be a sign of the times but the Admiral Nelson on Braunston Locks has closed due to lack of trade. Could the presence of commercial vehicles in the car park be a sign that changes are under way inside the building?

Parted with a few quid at the Wharfhouse and Braunston Marina before doing a ‘dump’ on the way down to Midland Chandlers. Got chatting to Paul and Lynne off nb.Piston Broke who sound like interesting people. Made a mental note to stop and natter a bit longer next time we see them.

Round the corner and under the bridge we found the chocolate boat - Granny buttons. No sign of Andrew so we missed another opportunity to catch up on his travel news. Made another mental note to try and catch him on the way back north.

There are some mean people about, if it’s not enough to have your boat sink and rot underneath you, bits get lifted when your back is turned. This is nb.Lucy (no ‘k’) and she’s a restoration project. I should just let her be if she were mine.

After a night’s kip between bridges 102 and 103 we set off in brilliant sunshine for the climb up Napton Locks.
Every one else takes a picture of Napton’s windmill so why shouldn’t I?

An hour later we spotted nb.Harnser shining in her fresh paintwork. Seen recently at Debdale Wharf she’s back on the ‘Oxford’ where we first saw her a couple of years ago.

A most enjoyable cruise followed down to Fenny Compton. Wall to wall sunshine brought out the best in everyone we met. Few boats were on the move, which is nice, but those that were moving were crewed by happy smiling faces. We’ll pay for this, I said, and sure enough the night was cold, down to zero and the morning didn’t start properly until after 10 o’clock when the mist lifted.

We moved through Fenny with lots of caution. Our lights were on in case we met anyone in the old tunnel.

We kept passing one particular boat on the way down the Oxford Canal. They’d invariably start after us and pass us after we’d tied up. One feels more akin to people the more one sees them but passing twice a day on a busy canal has its limitations. We managed a “Hi” each time we saw them but that’s the closest we got to finding out who they were and where they were going.

Cropredy was a big disappointment. All the 48 hr moorings above the lock have changed to 24 hrs. What good is that? Whose idea was it? One of the residents I shouldn’t be surprised. So what about the consultation, who represented the boaters and when did it happen?
Just look at the moorings, completely empty, useless to anyone but a hire boat in a hurry.

I shall boycott the pubs and shops in Cropredy, they obviously don’t want boaters so I’ll not spend a penny there. Further down the line the 14 day moorings were jam packed full so we had to carry on and look for an empty bank amongst the fields. V must have felt the perceived injustice was getting me down because she kept trying to calm me or change the subject. I’m wondering how we can find out who was involved in the decision making and how we can voice strong objections.

I felt that British Waterways had let boaters down but the only representatives we saw were a couple of friendly fellas in blue shirts and shorts oiling the paddle gear and we couldn’t have a go at them, it wouldn’t have been right.

A mile further on we came to the end of the long-termies and the 14 days-ies and anchored ourselves to half completed piling (no top rail) and made ourselves at home.

Derwent 6 and Matilda Rose are known to inhabit these waters so we stayed alert and kept a corkscrew handy. Matilda Rose was first in, pushing pins behind the half finished piling and settling down for a couple of days of fine weather. Graham and Jill make good company and we had a chance to get to know them better after our brief encounter at Kilby Bridge in the ice.

Shared a glass or three during several happy hours of talking boats, as you do. I think most subjects were covered, including loos of course.

Seeing as how Graham was being very industrious, tackling boat jobs, I followed his example (between the Six Nations matches) and pulled the stern boards up to finish an alternator regulator project. Scraping, sanding and varnishing can wait, it might be nice weather but not that nice.

But like all good things, they have to end and it’s time to part. Them to the north and us on our travels towards the K&A.
Jill mustered her two walking carpets, Baxter and Muttley, before heading off to the first lock of the day,

while Graham showed me his trick - steering with no hands. The camera must have caught him mid-manoeuvre because I can’t for the life of me see how he was going to make the lock entrance without holding the tiller.

Just before Graham and Jill left, thinking the sun had doubled in brightness I popped my head through the hatch to see what was going on and caught sight of gleaming paintwork as Derwent 6 passed by. Heading for Cropredy, Del and Al were up from Banbury way and making good time for the hostelry and a meet up with Graham and Jill. We’re looking forward to doing a tour of Derwent 6 but when that might happen I can only guess. We seem to be pointing the wrong way these days but perhaps, after Bristol, we’ll see them on our way north to the River Trent.

Did I say Trent? After all the flood delays of 2007? Must be mad.

Monday 9th to Sunday 15th March 2009

Monday heralds the end of winter and the end of our sojourn in the Leicestershire suburbs.
Just one more food delivery and we’re done with hanging around.

Talking of food, we managed two visits to The Navigation this week for an evening meal. It was pauper’s supper on our 35th anniversary (I know how to spoil a woman) and curry with Ter and Claire the following night.

With Keith and Jo on Hadar behind us on the 48 hour moorings we’re both ready for a 9am-ish start on Wednesday. But the family with little-uns on the hire boat just had to get up earlier and before we could slip our ropes from the bollards they hit the road. Oh well, it happens. Best wait until they’re out of sight.

Cruising with Hadar was a pleasure, her crew being totally at one with boats, canals and locks and their patience with relative new-comers like us was appreciated.
Hadar’s size dwarfed dear little Balmaha in locks and I began to understand how the difference in shape and size affects a boat’s characteristics and her handling in shallow water and side winds.

Out of Kibworth top lock, following Hadar into Saddington tunnel, we understood why Keith and Jo wore earplugs. For the first half of the tunnel we heard every suck, bang and wheeze of her engine but at about halfway through it suddenly went quiet and we could hear our own engine again. I put it down to the possibility that the air we shoved in front of us took the path of least resistance and on the way in it came back past us while on the way out it went ahead of us.
We were glad they were in front when a hire-boat, “we speak no English”, suddenly appeared under a bridge on a corner.

Hand signals from Keith were met with paper waving which may have meant “Just a minute, we’re reading the instructions”.

South of the tunnel our overnight mooring was punctuated by the explosions of crow-scarers and the more pleasing sounds of pheasant croaks.

After saying our goodbyes we set off into a cold breeze the following day and while Keith and Jo motored on to Foxton and Harbro’, we stopped off at Debdale for fuel and, as chance would have it, coffee and homemade cakes aboard Lily Pad with Ian and Carol.

Library pictures come in handy when the camera isn’t at hand.

After stopping at Foxton Boat Services for Beta engine consumables we went up through the 10 locks in 45 minutes to start our cruise along the Leicester summit.

How quickly one forgets the simple pleasures of cruising when one is effectively laid up for winter by canal stoppages.

Mile after mile and no soul to be seen, it’s just us and nature, a gentle purring from the engine, the bleat of a lamb on the hillside, the call of a blackbird taking to flight. Gorse flowers have opened and clusters of tiny green buds have appeared in the bushes overhanging the water.

Canals don’t suit everyone. Pheasants wander up and down the bank until they gather the courage to fly across but poor old rabbits, sheep and badgers aren’t so fortunate and the water is littered with their corpses.

We soon pass that point of no return, the A14, it’s like a boundary between winter stagnation and summer adventure. Trucks thrashing in both directions, the occasional car and even more occasional caravan add to the din as we pass unnoticed below the concrete and tarmac.

The scenery soon passes back to countryside and though one minute it’s cold, grey and threatening to rain, a mile further on we see the clouds part and the sunshine dazzles as it hits the water.

Standing on the stern deck holding a rattling tiller arm there’s plenty of time to ponder what might have been had we chosen another way of life. Here there’s time to watch the buzzard circling the sky, stare back at the cows as they lift their heads from the grass and catch a glimpse of a big fish caught between the boat and bank when the water drops as it rushes past.

Rushing wasn’t on this guy’s mind as he paddled steadily towards Leicester. He’s on his own little adventure, his canoe packed with tent, bed, food and water.

A couple of hours done and a tunnel behind us, we pulled over at ‘Maisy-stop’. Every place has its nickname and Maisy the cat’s antics on the fences and trees here a year or so ago gave this stretch of piling its name.

Spying an abandoned bird feeder in the trees we replenish it with seed and before long the finches, dunnocks and blue tits are all over it.

When the cruising is done, the greaser turned and the stern doors closed, the mind relaxes once again as one settles into an easy chair with a glass of wine in front of a real fire.

A rare thing these days is to read a book from cover to cover but this time we have the right ingredients, sea stories and pictures, and I manage to start and finish “Subsmash,” a story about the disappearance of HM Submarine Affray, in under a week. Mike from Sarah-Kate guessed this would be my kind of book and half way through I thought I’d solved the mystery of Affray’s sinking but by the last couple of chapters I wasn’t so sure. Was it a battery explosion or a broken snort tube?

The sudden appearance of creepy crawlies in the boat tells us that spring is on its way.
The first gnat and spider were squashed on the bathroom tiles while the caterpillar that dangled from the ceiling found itself propelled from the porthole to take its chances with the fish.

Moorhens have taken to fighting in groups of three or four and when the head-down, tail-up postures are done, it’s back to gathering reeds for the nest. Ducks still paddle by in pairs going nowhere as fast as possible and then returning as fast as possible. Surely it can’t be long before the males all disappear and the ladies turn up with their tiny brown bundles.

The next day’s mist took time to clear but through it came boats from the south and with them nb.Herbert with calls of “read your blog”. Try as I might I only managed a rear end picture, shame on me. Her shape and lines remind me of nb.Hector, any connection I wonder.

Further on we bumped into Molly May 2 and just managed to swap overall cruising plans before we parted. While we’re down south they’re up north and when we go north they go west. Oh well, see you in 2010?

It’s Sunday and at 8am the towpath was full of men with half a garage strapped to their backs. Carrying chairs, boxes, rods and nets they rustled past us clad in one piece waterproofs taking up position at either end of Balmaha. One could tell they were in one piece waterproofs by the time it took to unwrap and perform a simple pee in the bushes.

Within 15 minutes their talking had stopped and rods were poking out of the reeds on one side and dangling maggots into the reeds on the other.

I opened the side doors onto the tow path and got frying, holding the pan outside to turn the scallop potatoes and bacon so that the breeze could carry the smell down to the guys staring into the water. I did the same with the filter coffee, leaving the mug to stand on the gunwale to cool while I added fried egg and mushrooms to the pan. There were murmurings but no one protested so I stuck a joss stick on the fire to see what effect that had. The guy down wind of us left his peg and wandered down the line to chat with his mates. He’s disqualified.

After brekkies it’s a quick wipe of green paint over the winter scratches and then down the engine hole to install a home made voltage limiter in the battery charging line. Once I’d got the alternator exciter cable fitted on the right side we were up and running and for a few minutes it worked. The diode and relays handled the 50 amps charge current from the alternator but wisps of smoke told me all was not well with the copper conductors on the printed circuit board.
Back to the drawing board, version 2 will have to have more substantial copper conductors between the components.

That’s a bit of a downer but on the other hand it’s a good day for English rugby. The Six Nations is on and what a brilliant first half. As soon as the ‘Editor’ can get her eyes off the tele we’ll be uploading the blog.

Monday 2nd to Sunday 8th March 2009

All in all we didn’t have a bad time at Blaby, near the County Arms. Incidentally the old pub owner's plans for the derelict pub have been approved and we can expect a conversion to 16 apartments plus a couple of buildings in the carpark containing a further 16 units. Providing a new access to the towpath has been assured and whilst it will be nice not to have to run down a muddy bank behind the bridge parapet I wonder just what an easy access will do to towpath traffic and litter. Litter is already a problem, mainly around popular angling spots, and I can see how it might put boats off mooring in the vicinity of the old pub.

I half cleaned the boat one day in the week using Vic’s method of getting a shine by wiping baby-oil on the paintwork. It looked fine until a house behind the hedge cut down trees and had a bonfire next to us. Red sparks going upwards meant white ash coming downwards and all my work was ruined. Ter and Claire called one night for dinner and brought a sack of firewood so I burnt that all next day to get my own back on the gardener but the wind blew our smoke the wrong way.

Just before we left Blaby we were joined by another boat, a regular on the south Leicester canal. Its skipper was more than a little cheesed off with the low-life at Crow Mills where his boat had suffered a graffiti attack.
We’ve only ever stopped for an hour to use Tescos on our way through that part of Leicester and we’ve had no trouble at what was once a popular picnic place.
It’s difficult to say whether the risks are the same for those that stay overnight and those that settle down for a “couple of weeks”.

After ten days at Blaby Bridge we were running low on water, even after rationing, so we up-sticks and climbed the locks towards Wigston. While V did her last shopping run into Blaby I set off for Dunn’s Lock where I met a friendly couple on a Challenger boat emerging after a quiet night in the suburbs. As he opened the lock gate and enquired whether I was a single handed boater we were joined by V carrying her shopping. I sensed a smile returned to his face as perhaps he started to realise I wasn’t expecting him to close the gate and operate the paddles.

The trip back to Kilby Bridge was uneventful apart from having to negotiate drinks cans, bottles, tree branches and wooden posts that had been ripped from the towpath by Leicester’s yoof.

Rounding a bend we passed a work boat steered by a familiar face from Kilby. I say Kilby but I’m told that blue shirt operatives have to “think outside the depot” and consider themselves detached from their old canal base and from the moment they leave home in the morning they belong anywhere they are sent. I guess it’s easier to sell off land and buildings if no one feels they “belong” there anymore.

As the workboat disappeared out of sight my mind went back to the tributaries on the River Great Ouse where some work boats are fitted with scoops to lift weeds and rubbish from the river which might otherwise foul a propeller.

As we toddled along, walkers and anglers commented on the beauty of this sunny day and we marvelled at how wrong the weather forecasts had been. Having arrived at KB and filled a thirsty tank we were reversing to a free mooring when the heavens opened and snow plastered everything in sight.

How right the forecasts had been.

But there was a warm welcome after all as we were beckoned by Jo on Hadar, making signs for tea.
What might have been a quick warm-up around the fire turned out to be a whole afternoon in their excellent company, Keith and Jo are such a friendly couple.

If you use a magnifying glass you can make out Hadar’s red and blue colours just where the towpath goes out of sight. What used to be a quiet BW base has suddenly gone crazy with boats. Anybody would think we were having a boat rally at Kilby Bridge.

Now there’s a thought. Anyone apart from me think that’s a good idea?

Thursday was travel day. Friday felt like a holiday and being full of nice weather promise suited a couple of hours tinkering below boards checking batteries and doing an engine oil change. 4,700 engine hours in just over three years sounds a lot but I’ve no idea how that compares that with a car’s mileage nor where we stand in a diesel engine’s life time.

Saturday meant two treats for us. Mike and Jo from Sarah-Kate brought scones and shared news of the Shroppie and the boats that we knew that they’d seen up there and after them came Roger and Babs (nb.Megan), from the Basingstoke Canal

R&B wanted to eat at The Navigation so it was best clothes on, best means something recently washed, and a wander up the path and over the bridge to dine out. The usual subjects were covered including the inevitable loo topics along with improbable inventions and labour saving ideas.

As chips are a novelty these days I declined green veg for a double helping of delicious fries and have to confess we didn’t leave until I was completely stuffed.

Apart from a Tesco delivery and a few repairs such as engine coolant leak and a battery charge current limiter, we are about ready for the off. A trek down the Oxford Canal and the Thames to Reading are in front of us and a meeting with Sarah-Kate before doing the Kennet and Avon to Bristol.
We’re hoping to meet family at Hanham on the way and see our beloved Bristol Docks again after many, many years. Canons Marsh was a derelict building site used as a carpark for those of us working in the city centre 44 years ago. Old warehouses on the floating harbour were an eyesore and shored up buildings left over from the war weren’t uncommon.
My CEGB draughtsmen mentors used to point to the flower gardens in the centre of the one-way system at the bottom of Park Street and tell me that there were tunnels below where boats used to hide during the blitz.

Seeing how they’ve spent all that money on improving the waterside buildings I’m expecting the tunnels to be open ready for some exploring. I can just imagine the lights in the shops and the smells of coffee in the underground tunnels welcoming visiting narrowboats.
Yeah right.

Sunday 22nd Feb to Sunday 1st March 2009

Time came to move so we trickled off to the west, V was still feeling a bit yukky and the weather was uncertain of what it was going to do. As it happened it was a touch windy but the rain clouds passed by intact.

We’d intended stopping for a day or two at Blaby to use the shops but the best moorings were choka-blok with anglers. When we enquired about squeezing between them we were told in no uncertain terms that their fishing match came first and they wouldn’t budge-up.

I wonder what the rules really say on that subject.

We could have reversed back towards the lock but decided that would have stirred the water so badly that we might have had something thrown at us so we carried on and stopped beyond them. I’ve heard of angry anglers throwing maggots at boats and the last thing we needed was maggots rolling into the boat and turning into flies while we’re asleep.

Going by the size of his float the fella at the far end didn’t look like he was in the competition so we stopped on his patch. A while later he knocked on the boat to ask if we’d take a photo of the pike he’d caught so I knew we were going to be friends.

And what a whopper it was, though he said he’d had bigger pike in days gone by. Who would have thought we had fish like that swimming around us, but it explains why there’s no sign of anything else eating the stale bread I accidentally dropped from the galley porthole.

This has been a week for things going wrong. I knocked the Eco Fan off the stove and in an effort to break its fall I stuck my knee in its way. That did the trick and I was well pleased that the only damage was a bent fan blade. Straightening that and replacing it on the stove I announced I’d saved £78 only to hear V exclaim “look at the glass on the stove door, its smashed” Blow it, the fan had touched the glass on its way between my knee and the floor and the glass was now in several pieces, still in place but ready to drop out.

The fire was burning so I dribbled fast setting epoxy resin on the cracks and taped the glass together until it had set.
It looked horrible but we could still use the fire.

It was all well and good but that night the smell of glue drifted down the boat and kept us awake.

Should we open the windows? Neeerrrh, it’s only a smell.
Will it catch fire? No, it shouldn’t do.
Shall we wake up tomorrow? I can’t say for sure.

Alright, if it helps you sleep I’ll open all the vents and a porthole.

Guess what, we awoke the next day and there were no ill effects, just a funny smell that we noticed whenever we left and came back to the boat.

Enquiries put the cost of replacing the glass at over £40, phew!!
I reserved a replacement glass at Wharfhouse Narrowboats and told them we’d be along in a couple of weeks or so.

But we were in for a pleasant surprise because Mike and Pat (ex nb.Hyperion) called in to see us on their way through Leicestershire and not only did we get an undeserved treat to all the food we could eat at a local restaurant but a trip to Wharfhouse to collect the stove glass. Pat said she couldn’t leave us with that broken glass window. By the evening it was fixed. Brilliant, thanks everso much you two, where would we be without you?

A few boats have gone through Leicester this week, one we knew, the rest we didn’t, probably doing the ‘ring’ before Redhill lock stoppages put an end to the more adventurous among us.
Actually the weather has been good for winter cruising. Mostly cloudy but with the occasional sunny break, not bad for February.

Now that March has arrived what will befall us, floods I wonder?

Sunday is a special day for my older brother in Canada, he’s xx years old today, poor (ancient) thing. Don’t think he reads this blog.

Talking of Canada, we are only a few months away from seeing a sister boat coming back into service. Geoff and Mandy are giving up an easy life in a large detached place right at the waters edge on the west coast of Canada to slum it with the rest of us in Britain’s ditches.

Their boat is very similar to ours and could be a valuable source of spare parts. Things like stove glass and water pumps come to mind.

Met Paul and Dawn, who we knew from days of living in houses, and got invited to their place for a meal. They love experimenting with food and it’s always a surprise and a pleasure to eat with them. Seems we’ve done well in the tummy department this week.

Wish I could say things were going well in the computer department. This one is going slow and not doing things it should, like freezing when I right-click on a folder. Oh well, ‘spect we’ll have to reload Windows again. It’s been two years since the last time so it’s well overdue.