Blimey, this thing moves!

I’ve done it, I have ventured out in the thing.

Having looked on the internet web thing for a Helmsman course, the one I liked the look of the most just happened be moored right opposite me, so close in fact that if I have gone without having taken the course, it would have been the first thing I crashed into.

We went out in my boat, consequently it was in Rod’s own interest to instruct me well. The bow, 60 feet away, seemed a long way off from the stern, but turned surprisingly easily, easily enough to miss his, and all the other boats. In fact, I didn’t crash into anything all day, which was a bit of a disappointment as it means this game is either far easier than I thought, in which case why did I pay for a course, or it was beginners luck and I have been led into a false state of security, if so I am likely to give something a really good clout next time out.

We set off along the canal, through a deep lock, around sharp bends, all of which have bridges placed on them, and up to Pratt’s Wharf where we chucked a u-ie and did the lot in reverse including back between the boats and into my mooring.

For the afternoon we swapped to his boat and onto the River Severn, closed to leisure craft on a Tuesday, his boat having a business license, accessed through two pairs of staircase locks. I think I preferred the canal, there was more going on. Knowing I would be a single-hander, I got to do everything. I thoroughly enjoyed myself, which came as a bit of a relief having already bought a boat.

The following week I went up the canal with my neighbour Rick. It seems it wasn’t beginner’s luck as I sailed through everything, including the times when Rick said, “You won’t be able to get into this lock without touching the sides.” We moored up outside a pub, unfortunately shut, and had lunch. It felt very strange to be in the same home yet looking at completely different scenery, and not the sides of neighbouring boats.

There is still much to learn about life aboard about. I get to basics and talk to anybody, about anything.

“So where do you empty your loo if you are full and there are no elsan points?”

“You need a folding shovel to dig a hole, failing that, tip it in the canal, after all it’s what the old boaters used to do all the time. Besides, the fish will eat it, at least they’ll eat mine, probably not yours.”

I still need to buy a life jacket, especially important for the early days when I am inexperienced and alone. I will end up in there sometime for sure. I am thinking of an automatic one inflated by as small gas canister and looked at some in the local chandlers, but when opening they have to force a long zip open. I couldn’t see how they would work. Graham the local British Waterways guy showed me his. It had velcro rather than a zip which made more sense.

“Do you ever wear them?” I asked.

“We have to wear them all the time. I needed them a couple of times, once I went in whilst driving a tractor.”

Wow! Sounds more challenging that a 60 foot narrowboat. Perhaps I should buy a tractor to live in. Graham kindly volunteered to check them out for me when he next passes.

The gas ran out last night. I didn’t bother changing bottles as I will be away for a week, so saved it for my return. Tell you what, life’s exciting isn’t it?

I joined a bunch of Quakers for a quiz evening with the Catholics in Bewdley who are raising money for some loos. If the Catholics are so rich why do they need to raise the money? Perhaps the loos are a sign of an ageing congregation. The Quakers were a noisy bunch and know how to enjoy themselves. I discovered they don’t gamble. When it came to the raffle, I bought a strip of tickets, at least I thought I did. Having handed over the money, the woman said “Thank you” and walked off without giving me any. Most of the others donated without taking the tickets, odd then how the Quakers won the first two prizes, though they gave them away from returning to their seats.

Sunday saw me Quaking again, this time at a shared lunch. Shared lunch? It was a shared feast! They know how to eat too. They made me feel at home by stripping clean the plates of food like vultures.

“Sorry our cottage is so small,” they said as I entered. Not it wasn’t, it was huge, though at five foot not a lot I still managed to whack my head on the roof beams.

Another three weeks and I will leave Stourport. I am really looking forward to it, especially with spring arriving. I feel I am ready to go now, but a few more days trips will do me good before the big off.

Sorry about the lack of photos and the poor quality. I suspect I wont get back into it before I set off, but they will improve.

I still haven't moved

Thanks for your comments Brian, but I am a little alarmed to hear there are blogs out there even more boring than mine. I need to step my game up a bit, so here goes.

The boat remains static. I still haven’t moved an inch in the thing, if you exclude from side to side. My course was postponed due to high winds and the River Severn being too high, meaning pleasure boats were banned from using it.

It has been windy mind! The first night of heavy wind had the boat swaying from side to side, rather therapeutic, until the satellite dish came crashing down. Metal on metal right above your head makes an alarming noise.

So in an attempt to show you how boring I can be, I shall launch into the highlight of this blog entry. I have heard it said you know you are a real boater when you visit people and take a pile of washing with you. That’s exactly what I did. I was alarmed at the size of a normal washing machine having become accustomed to my own small machine, the cavernous whole at the front gobbling up

all the sheets, pillow cases and duvet cover in one mouthful. I gave it all a 60 degrees wash, then took the lot out. Oh dear! The nice new red duvet cover released an awful lot of colour turning the white sheet an alarming shade of pink. To make it worse it’s a beautifully even colour, so disguising the truth behind the reason for the colour. I can assure you it’s definitely not my shade of pink. My honest reaction was “Bollocks!” but I couldn’t write that in a blog.

I took a few things from my house over to Paul’s house to put in storage (for few read a car full). Whilst

I was there Rose arrived home and having missed the start of their conversation it became apparent Rose had bought something for Paul but had left it in a coffee shop. I knew it was important and of considerable value by Paul’s reaction and from the concern shown by Rose who rang the coffee shop straight away, only to find it shut. I couldn’t think what it might be but suspected something like a wallet, phone, computer, vital drugs or some other such important item, but as Paul kept on about it I could contain my curiosity no longer and finally asked, “What has Rose left behind?”

“Two pen refills,” he replied. I burst out laughing causing Rose to go into fits of laughter, Paul sat st

raight faced, not amused. Pens are important to Paul, the refills must have cost a fortune and the real reason for his stress.

“How much were they worth then?” I asked having finally stopped laughing.

“£5.”

Is that all! It set me off laughing again.

“In the big scheme of things it’s hardly important is it?” I added.

“It is, my pen is not working properly.”

Bless him. I haven’t laughed so much in a long time.

The folk of Queensland have been in my thoughts recently. I think the pictures coming out of Brisbane shocked us all, some having flood water reaching the roof of their homes. Then if that wasn’t bad enough it was followed up by Cyclone Yasi wreaking havoc across the same area, destroying houses and livelihoods. Such scenes made me realise the recent flooding in my house was a minor problem by comparison. There is always somebody worse off than yourself. The people of Queensland can sleep peacefully in the knowledge that at least their pen hasn’t run out.

I am going to have to be a bit careful here. If I starting writing about my family every time they make me laugh they will stop talking to me. Hmm, there’s a thought, it might be worth pursuing. Anyway, to report in an unbiased and balanced way I should tell you the good things about Paul, like how he kindly gave me a Roberts DAB Radio for the boat. Actually, I think he was looking for a small donation, but being a tight git I haggled hard.

“If you insist I give you a small donation then I wont allow you to store all my valuable possessions in your attic.”

He knew it was a lost cause!

It's frozen over again

It’s been a while since I wrote an update, but to be honest there is hardly anything to report, but here goes anyway.

The last few days have been cold, bloody freezing at night, down to -5, enough to freeze the basin over again.

Work continues back at the house. The lounge ceiling has been removed and the driers and dehumidifiers are in place, so with no furniture, no fridge and no cooker, it hardly feels like home anymore. So the day after the noisy driers moved in for three weeks, I moved to the boat.

The ten days or so I have been here has made it my longest stay, though there are few developments. I have used the washing machine for the first time, I know, exciting isn’t it? I have also used the shower for the first time. It doesn’t mean I have been unwashed, I just got into the habit of using the free one provided by British Waterways, a rather pleasant

five minute walk away. I was really surprised at how good my shower is, much better than expected. I haven’t used the BW shower since.

Paul and Rose came over for a visit the first weekend, and very enjoyable it was too, though I missed Match of the Day as it was the first time I had used the tele since my return and the boat had moved in the winds leaving the satellite dish out of alignment. On Sunday I fiddled around with it while Paul watched, offering suggestions, eventually fixing it following advice from my neighbours on either side. As we walked back down the side of the boat, Paul said,

“I don’t know what you would do without me.”

“What do you mean, you didn’t do anything!” He just laughed.

Most of the time since then has been spent in the library as I am at last focused enough to start writing again, but it does mean there is not much to report, and even fewer pictures. I tend not to take many photos in the library, hence another mug shot.

I went for a drink with Rick, “I am terrible with names,” he told me, “I called the previous owners of your boat Oz and Sam as I found it easier remember.”

“So what name have you got for me then?” I asked.

“I haven’t yet.” I am not sure if that is good or bad news.

“There are two types of boat owners,” he went on to tell me, “those who have failed in business, and those who have failed in love.” Hmm, that made me think. I must be a natural boater as I have failed in both!

As we sat there talking I received a tap on the shoulder from behind. I turned to see a man stood there wrapped up against the cold, his woollen hat pulled down to just above his eyes, I had never seen him before.

“I know the answer to everything.” He said.

Was I about to find the meaning of life? I somehow doubted it. “Oh right, what’s that?” I asked.

“Just tell them bollocks!” Yeah, I was right.

Oz and Sam thought everything on the boat was perfect, if they didn’t have it, it was no good, everybody else was plain stupid. In reality most things on boats are down to person preference. For example, most people have a latch and padlock securing the hatch and doors at the back, whereas they opted to put a padlock through a hole in the rail the hatch slides on, stopping it from moving,

“It’s much more secure,” they told me. “Those padlocked latches can easily be ripped off with a crow-bar.”

I was never totally convinced. On Sunday I tried to break in. The padlock was placed too far back allowing the hatch to be lifted slightly, then with a screwdriver I had the doors open within thirty seconds, no damage done, no need to rip anything off. So my first modification has been made, a hole has been drilled further along the rail, now the hatch can’t be lifted and all is completely secure.

I have often heard you need to be good at DIY to be on a boat...I’m not. I am so useless I even asked Bob to drill the hole for me. He duly obliged.

When I called Dad the other night we talked about life on the boat. “What will you do when you are away from your current mooring and run out of water?” he asked, but before I had a chance to answer, he continued “I suppose you could go to a canal side pub, they wouldn’t mind giving you a bottle of water.”

“Dad, I have got a 150 gallon water tank.”

“Have you?” he said surprised. “You aren’t going to lug that around everywhere are you?”

He hasn’t visited the boat yet, and with his poor eyesight probably can’t see the pictures properly either, but I think he has a vision of me stepping out of a rowing boat and staggering down the towpath with a bloody great 150 gallon water container strapped to my back!

I love my little bike, it’s perfect for the boat, tucking away perfectly into a corner of the engine room. I love it so much I thought I would show you a little video clip of it folding. I don’t love my old camera! I discovered the microphone has broken, not that you need to hear me folding up a bike, but I thought would put a few video diaries into the blogs. Perhaps not now. I shouldn’t be surprised, the thing was falling apart way back when I was in Australia, it had been bounced over too many miles.

Hopefully, by the next update I will have got this boat moving, if only for a day trip. I’ll keep you posted.