Monday 2nd to Monday 9th November 2009
The diary says we’re due in Foxton at the weekend so we started out from Wistow on Monday, straight after the early morning showers.
Heading for Kibworth we parted a thick carpet of newly fallen leaves. It’s a bit of a pain when they get wrapped round the prop but at least it isn’t floating pennywort.
Progress wasn’t made any easier by low water levels and the familiar clickety-clunk warned us that we were picking up debris from the canal bed.
We passed the occasional boat with a smoking chimney telling us someone was at home, but otherwise we had the place to ourselves. What was left of the leaves on the trees looked lovely, so I am told, in their yellows, red and browns though I much prefer the fresh greens of spring, but what do I know.
Fleckney gave us empty moorings, hedge to hedge sunshine and a couple of days to put our feet up. V gave me the nod so I gathered a few wires and scrambled up on deck to do my Marconi bit.
65 feet of wire 30 feet up got me through to Graham’s cousin Malcolm in Shropshire (5&8 on 10 watts). I know propagation conditions are good but this is a first for me and prompted me to start making my own Z match aerial tuner.
The second experiment with a 30 foot whip was a disaster on 80 meters so I’m now looking for a piece of 2” diameter drain pipe to make a base loading coil. V hates this sort of thing because it means that while I stop and check every builder’s skip along the way, she has to stand guard and cough if anyone comes along.
Tuesday
Strange things happened this morning between 8.30 and 9am. Canal water charged off in the direction of Kibworth locks and in minutes our home was on the mud. We waited and waited for a boat to appear but when nothing came under the bridge we guessed someone was fixing the low water problem between Kibworth and Wistow. It didn’t last long, an hour or so later we were afloat and the cupboard doors stayed shut again.
Rain stopped me playing outdoors so I set to with the screwdriver and pulled the covers off the bedroom finrads. How did all that fluff get in there?
Got carried away with the sander and discovered just how thin the top layer is on ash veneered plywood. Unfortunately re-varnishing only made it look worse.
Wednesday
Someone decided I wasn’t getting enough fresh air so the coat and shoes came out for an airing. Fleckney with its few but very useful shops and post office is only ten minutes away so I made it there and back without whinging. Didn’t see a single builder’s skip so I’m still in the market for drain pipe.
I don’t know why, but our MSC water gauge needs adjusting every few months. Maybe it’s a temperature thing because it corresponds with the onset of summer and winter. Trouble is it means emptying a packed cupboard where I keep all my secrets and I find the whole thing such a distraction that what could be done in ten minutes takes a complete afternoon.
Thursday
It’s time to leave because I’m in danger of liking it here, my feet are growing roots.
After testing the tunnel light we set off through Saddington to Foxton via Debdale. Don’t know why I said via Debdale, there’s no choice in the matter is there. Not that I’ve got anything against Debdale you’ll understand.
Seeing Foxton was like seeing an old mate again, nothing has changed, the same buildings, the same old faces.
Popped into the shop and bought engine oil and filters from Foxton Boat Services (Beta agents) but surprised how much the filters have jumped in price.
We’ve done 5600 engine hours in under four years and I’ve given up counting the oil changes, we’re still on the original set of fanbelts though.
Moored halfway between the boat basin and the village where it used to be a 14 day limit but is now 48 hours. The canals are going the same way as town and city parking – ever increasing restrictions. Me-thinks there’s a move to tighten things even further because photographs were being taken around Blackhorse Bridge, official looking people who checked the boats and then the cars in the layby. And it doesn’t look like holiday snaps to me.
Friday
Caught the bus to Harbro’ this morning for supplies, it’s still one pound each way if you buy a return, free for me of course.
Back at Foxton we found Keith and Jo on Hadar, fresh up from Harbro’.
Tea and coffee flowed while we got to the bottom of Keith’s recent health problems.
We marvelled at how calm they were after all the poking and prodding and still not having answers. Here’s hoping everything gets sorted quickly so that Keith can put hospitals behind him.
Saturday
At Blackhorse Bridge we found Kass, number one daughter and her fella Joe. While they popped over to Mary’s to see the twins we counted the Jo(e)s we knew. There’s Jo and Keith, Jo and Mike, Jo and Alan (x2), at least five of them. The evening found me all confused as the topics of conversation switched between family, weddings and Joe (or Jo), you know how girls are, mind reading half the time and changing the subject without announcing it.
Sunday was a practical day, so I could take part too.
With Joe steering we cruised down to Great Bowden and back, taking in the pleasures of autumn countryside colours and the glue factory fragrances.
Joe was particularly unimpressed by the glue factory and gladly accepted the offer of a gas mask for our return journey through the pongs.
It was dark before our visitors left and almost light again before our buzzing minds slowed enough to let us sleep. It was good to see them so happy together, with so much in common and most of their lives still in front of them. The next visit will include Maisy, the other princess. That should be ‘fun’. I can guess who’ll have to do the after-dark walks along the boat roof, runs down the towpath and leaping up trees in the pitch black, freezing nights around Christmas time.
Monday
Knowing coal-boat Hadar was leaving the area, on her way to Welford, we set off in pursuit for a couple of purchases.
Two bags of coal should do us for now and we’re trying Jo’s ‘blue’ to see if it does the job. I’ve tried several ‘blues’ over the years but always come back to Elsan’s thick, dark blue fluid, it gets no complaints from either of us, but it would be nice to get away from its spiralling price.
Goodies stowed we said our goodbyes to Keith and Jo and while we made use of the services at the end of the inclined plane arm, Keith and Jo chugged through the basin and into the first lock on their way up the flight to the summit.
While they’re servicing customers down south we’ll amuse ourselves somewhere between Harbro’ and Leicester.
For now, we’re happy out in the countryside east of Foxton, miles from the crowds, with the birdfeeder hanging on a nail attracting the finches, blue tits and a little grey mouse that darts between the twigs at the base of the tree.
