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whoever allowed these parking companies, who are now spilling over into mooring management, to exist in the first place needs attaching to the nearest trebuchet by their genitals and flinging into the next county. i'm all for folk playing by the rules, but these parasites are not doing it for anyones benefit but their own pockets.

Torksey in the 1960s and, I believe, in 1939.

It looks VERY green to me!.👍

Bear in mind im a live aboard.i set sail in the boat heading for the boat yard to get some diesel a journey of 3 mile or so..when i got there i realised i hadnt got the money out of my little tea pot to pay for the diesel..so i set sail back to the mooring..moored up..went inside the boat ..got my money ..came out of the front door ..walked to the back of the boat started the engine again and headed back to the boatyard..it was only when i was mooring up at the boat yard again that i realised what id done..

"A big hole has appeared - C&RT are looking into it). 👀

I hate pop rivets, mine are drill and tapped.

Several years ago I did some painting for Rex Wain. He returned the favour by making me a lovely cabin block out of an elm offcut. It ended up in a corner shelf of my workshop, until I ran out of painting in the first lockdown. I dusted it off and set to work.....

if it were not for the seemingly ever increasing amounts of this sort of stuff including the ludicrous regulations at Banbury that in effect ban you for stooping both on your way to Oxford and then on your way back that tipped the balance between selling the boat and keeping it for less arduous trips. The last thing the majority of boaters need is being forced to contend with private parking companies who as far as I can see have had their wings clipped by law re car parking so have moved in mooring enforcement so they can carry on with their extortion and money extraction.

surely you’re used to handling logs?

Not boaty, but... Need to replace fluorescent light in kitchen, one of the old ones with a big heavy inductive ballast and a metal case. Turn light off at wall, leave other light in room on so I can see (it's winter). Stand on chair in middle of kitchen, remove tube and cover. No volts between live and neutral, check -- previous owner was a bit of a bodger, best to make sure. Use electricians screwdriver to unscrew cables from terminal block, then big screwdriver to remove screws holding it to ceiling -- remove one screw, hold that end of fitting up with one hand while removing other screw. As second screw comes loose (and drops to floor) heavy fitting starts to drop -- quick, drop screwdriver on floor and grab fitting with other hand, Am now holding it overhead with both arms, hmm, it's quite heavy, let's lower it down gently. Mains cable (short) pulls through hole in fitting as I lower it, bare end touches metal case <WAAAAAH> push it back up quick, bloody cable's still live. OK, don't panic, let's screw it back to ceiling and go and turn power off at fusebox. Look down at screwdriver lying on floor, along with screws. Look up at heavy fitting, arms are starting to tremble under strain. No I can't let go and drop it, bloody thing will fall right on my head and it weighs a ton. I know, wife is upstairs. 'CAN YOU COME DOWN FOR A MINUTE?" "Why?" "I NEED YOU TO TURN THE POWER OFF" "Why?" "JUST COME AND TURN THE BLOODY POWER OFF!!!" Walks into kitchen. Looks up at me. Looks down at screws and screwdriver on floor. Laughs. Runs out and turns power off. Bodger previous owner had put light switch in the neutral...

Heavily raining. Started engine, fitted tiller extension, ran up to untie front end, ran back to let go back rope, pushed back end out before stepping onto counter. So far ok. About to select astern to reverse out from mooring when I spotted cat smiling at me from towpath. Swore, leapt ashore, scooped up cat, ran to the front end as back had drifted too far for further heroic straddling. Climbed onto gunnel and edged my way back with struggling cat. Employed one free hand to alternatively fumble for hand rail, and then wipe the blood out of my eyes inflicted by cat enthusiastically wind milling his razor sharp scythes at me. Due to restricted eye sight and concentrating on restricting the squirming cat who was displaying not only a deep hatred for me but also a remarkable similarity to a dozen eels, I reached the engine 'ole where the hand rail finishes. Imagine my blind (literally) panic when I realised I was holding on to nothing. I reached out frantically to clutch onto a handhold and with short lived glee encountered boat pole. Couple walking by on towpath applauded my skills at tightrope'ish, cat juggling and enquired if there would be an encore? Laughing heartily through gritted teeth I achieved the counter while alternatively waving cat and then boat pole above my head, thus equilibrium was maintained. I peeled the cat off me like Velcro and unceremoniously projected him towards his bed opposite the stove ......... in which was casually watching me, our own cat. Upon arrival of the doppelgänger levels of activity and noise were accelerated to levels mere imagination would never have anticipated. After about 2 minutes of identical cats screaming at each other and bouncing of hanging plates I stopped in a bridge hole and ordered one of them to go ashore toot sweet and without ceremony. I never knew which one it was that slinked off without a backward glance, but the one that remained glowered at me all the way to Hemel Hempstead.

And a big thanks for the drivers of the various supermarkets who deliver the stuff in horrid weather, walk up unlit paths, trip over stupid concrete gnomes, cope with savage or overexcited dogs just to deliver to some grumpy old sod who probably ordered the wrong stuff anyway. (same for the postman too) They must be chosen for their good humour and tolerance.

I thought we had all already explained this one. Re lock keeper warning the skipper about the gates leaking, surely the skipper could see for himself as he came into the lock that the gates which were just in front of his boat were leaking? of course if he was chatting to the skipper on the other boat he may have missed it.... . Also, I know you haven't done the Bingley locks or probably never even seen them but they are very deep and for the lock keeper up on top to speak to the skipper of a boat in the bottom of the lock, is not easy, especially when that skipper is too busy chatting. They may very well be a very pleasant couple who have been boating for all of three years but there is no way they are experienced and lack of attention is no excuse for blaming anyone else for their perceived problem. I think you need to get yourself off the Chesterfield and experience a bit more of the canal system for yourself and not take as gospel what you read on blogs 🙂 haggis

He is beautiful though. Always loved Alsatian/GSD. Ma & Pa always had them. Being publicans they were the right dog to have. As some will know, I also love Staffies and now have two JRTs. Only got them in the hope of tripping up MrSmelly when he came onboard.

But if you do not do something that you are asked to do, then there is no penalty that can be applied. The time has to come when actions are 'required' or 'compulsory'. If it is a legal requirement and you are told you must not / cannot do something then penalties can be applied. It only takes a few example being made before the 'under average intelligence' people get the message. Wales seems to be managing to stop English visitors and fineing them (obviously not all, as the borders are very porous), they are stopping and fineing people at raves, as well as the organisers. The message does slowly get across.

The whole De Enfield family?

More like a Witchetty grub (we thought) This is all that remains of the last one who said something similar :

Drug smuggling around the country was a major source of income for working boatpersons. It supplemented the miniscule wages they received for legal cargo and was carried out with the knowledge and tacit approval of the canal management, provided they received their kick backs and could maintain plausible deniability. Purple Ore, Spelter Dross, Basic Slag, Coke Dust and Waste Acid were all euphemisms for various illegal drugs of the time. Working boat trade only continued in to the '60's with the help of the money that could be made this way. Jen 😀

Plumbed the Thetford loo into the hot pipe (by mistake). The resultant hot flush was rather comforting on a chilly morning.