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.