Narrowboat Balmaha – Bath again

Monday 4th to Sunday 10th May 2009

The Editor is back. Now life can return to normal, no more getting up at an unearthly hour (8.30) and going to bed late (8.30), no more eating drinking and breathing sawdust and varnish.

V returned Sunday morning, clutching bags, photographs and stories to make my hair curl of coach travel and hotels in jolly bonnie Scotland.

As for me, I started a jobs list the day she left but by midweek I’d given up recording which bit of wood got scraped, sanded and varnished. Who cares? Fortunately for me she could see something different on her return. Here’s a tip for other boaters, wiping turps over the shelves certainly gives the appearance of new varnish and the smell will convince anyone that work has been done. Only joking. That idea didn’t come to mind until just now and by then it was too late.

There are advantages to being on one’s own but I wouldn’t like to do it all the time, the thought of waiting at swing bridges for someone else to come along scares me silly, what if nobody comes along for weeks? Thinking about it one night, half way through a bottle of milk (not) I got quite maudlin and pondered my chances of staying a socialite in a narrowboat on my own. In reality I’d probably turn into a hermit and do what the youngsters down here do – just sit and sit and sit until the ‘notice’ appears on the boat, then move a mile up the canal and start sitting all over again.

I’d become an old age drop-out, partial to a glass but having to resort to the ‘apple juice’ rather than my current favourite, mother’s ruin. Mind you, I’d have to change my wardrobe if I lived down here, my colours don’t fit the scene at all, it’s all oranges, reds, browns and yellows along this bit of the Kennet & Avon.
To completely fit in I’d have to cover the roof in logs, no not logs – branches with the twigs still attached and plastic toys and battered bicycles and a trailer for those little trips to the water tap.

Talking of which, there’s a favourite watering place just along from me. It’s a land drain sticking out of the field which takes the run-off from a sheep pasture and deposits water into the canal. Now you have to imagine a clay pipe, about 3” diameter protruding a few inches from the earth, underneath it is wet clay and a couple of feet away is the canal. The water seems to run continuously and has attracted the ‘permies’ as I like to call them, who walk over the little footbridge with their plastic containers to top up with water.
One boat tied up at the bridge for three hours and by using a funnel and pipe put this field water straight into the boat’s water tank. Now how inventive is that? Absolutely brilliant. Someone must have come along and tested the water and declared it safe for consumption and word spread along the canal.
No, you won’t catch me doing it, I have a delicate tummy and I’d have to imbibe mother’s ruin to sterilise it which would cause me to fall over, again.

Enough, I’ve wandered far enough in my thoughts on that subject, it’s time to return to serious boating stuff.

Fortunately for my sanity Mike and Jo caught me up in Sarah-Kate and provided much needed distractions. But there’s a down side to that, someone is always there to note the days that I don’t get out of bed.

As V took the camera with her to the Outer Hebrides or wherever it was (Orkneys, she reminds me) there are no pictures to show from this week’s canalside activities, that is apart from one. Some background first. Vic on No Problem made some excellent vented windows for his boat comprising wooden frame covered with a fine fly-proof netting that lets in the breeze but keeps out the flies. This week I made two of these babies for Balmaha and have to say they work quite well.
All I do is take out the removable semi-circular glass unit and insert my new device which allows a flow of air but keeps out the flies.

First trials didn’t go quite to plan because I found flies on the inside of the unit, they’d come through the back doors and stuck themselves on the mesh while trying to get out through the porthole. But I can see how it might work in the middle of summer, from about 5pm when the mozzies pop out of the water and go crazy trying to get into the bedroom to wait for us. Thanks Vic for that idea, what have you invented this year?

Finally, I must apologise for the lack of anything interesting to report but I’ve done much the same thing every day and I haven’t had the benefit of V to make my days exciting.
Apart from Mike and Jo who, have been brilliant friends ever since the cruise began, my only close companions this week have been two ducks who appear every hour at the side doors where they quack until they’re fed. These ducks have taken it upon themselves to look after me by floating outside the windows with those “I’m starving” eyes during the day and by flip-flapping up and down the roof all night as if to keep my nightmares away. Did you know that ducks love cheese?

But for those who, like me, don’t know where Scotland is, here are a couple of pictures of the place.
The first one is all to do with affordable housing at Skara Brae on the Orkneys.

The last one is something to do with Italian POWs building a chapel during WW2 and having to make do with a Nissen hut. That’s nothing to do with Nissan cars (is it?).
It might look like stone and plasterwork but it’s all a trick with clever painting, a bit like me last week in this boat.

As for the future, we’re hanging around east of Bath for another week then doing the Bristol run, possibly stopping two nights in the harbour.

Spurred on by the “Who’s doing diesel at what price” and “Where to get your laundry done” I’m preparing a booklet called “Floaters or sinkers”. It’s all about what floats and what doesn’t so we know what we can chuck overboard without getting into trouble.
For example - potato peelings sink, so they’re alright, whilst apple peelings float, so they’re not alright.
Everyone is invited to contribute to the booklet so let me know your experiences, ‘though nothing too ghoulish please.