SteveT

I decided not to use the recirculating toilet, for obvious reasons, and bought a Porta Potti. These are a two-part device, with fresh water in the upper tank (plus some blue chemical), and the waste plus flushing water ends up in the lower tank. When the lower tank is full, you split it into two separate halves, take it to a suitable drain point, empty the bottom tank and fill up the upper tank with water. All done. Having said that, it was a heck of a trek from my mooring to the sewage point through muddy fields and rough tracks, and aching arms resulted. Now, lighting: as you'd expect, it had 12V fluorescent lighting throughout. Trouble was, the battery was pretty well knackered, and the only way to charge it up was to run the engine. I realised it was a terrible waste of diesel to keep running the engine just to charge the battery, and in any case the noise got a bit much after a while. So I went with paraffin. I bought a couple of those "storm lantern" things, because they were cheap, and found a second-hand Tilley lamp. That was great, and gave off a useful amount of heat as well. What's the cheapest way to eat? Cabbage and offal. I went to a market every week and came home with a couple of carrier bags of stuff. I found that ox liver was particularly cheap, as were chicken hearts. Also, sometimes there was extra-cheap sausage meat with, presumably, all the most disgusting bits of an animal, plus sawdust or whatever other bulking agent they had to hand. Guys, I don't know about you, but chicken hearts are just too disgusting to describe. Like eating a rubber ball, and all the time you know just what it is in your mouth. Yuck!! However, the cabbage and offal would make a stew that lasted most of the week. Oh, lunches: lettuces were cheap, as was white bread. So lunches were lettuce sandwiches, every day.

Yes! Calling it a "marina" was a bit optimistic, I think.

The Arctic stove was a bit of a bust, to be honest. It was crudely made, which meant the burn rate was extremely difficult to control. On windy days the chimney would draw harder, and the stove was so leaky I couldn't shut it down, so it got far too warm and feasted on fuel at a terrible rate. On still days it was better. The problem was, if the wind got stronger or weaker whilst it was burning, the damn thing would either go out or go mad, so constant messing about was required. Back then narrowboats had minimal insulation, and the very large surface area to volume ratio meant that twenty minutes after the stove had gone out, it was pretty much down to ambient temperature. It's amazing how adaptable you can be: I became comfortable in my shirt sleeves right down to 0C, provided there wasn't too much of a draught. One night, though, it became exceedingly cold and I slept inside three sleeping bags, concerned I might die of hypothermia! In the morning I found the washing up liquid had frozen (actually to a stiff slush, and a very beautiful pearlescent green). I found out later that day that the temperature had dropped to -13C! I couldn't keep any water in the normal plumbing system, because it just kept freezing and blowing out the pipes. Same with the central heating: if it wasn't switched on (which it never was because of the cost) it just burst the pipes. In the end I had to drain all of it. So what did I do for water? Well, my boat was moored at the edge of a field, nowhere near a water supply, so I used to take a five gallon plastic container to work, fill it up, and carry it back to the boat. That's actually pretty heavy when you're tramping across a field! I had a plastic beer barrel from a previous hobby, which I put on the draining board with its tap overhanging the sink. I would fill that from the five gallon container, and thus had "running" water at the kitchen sink. I did use the gas, but only for cooking and the gas-powered fridge, which kept the cost manageable.

Impulsive as ever, I decided to buy one of the Barrington Bashers without giving any serious consideration to the financial implications. Houses were bought with a 25-year mortgage; my boat was bought with a 5-year "marine mortgage", which is just a fancy term for hire purchase. The repayments were roughly twice what a 2.5-times-salary mortgage would have cost, and I was a single bloke at a very low rank in BT (a Tech 2A). So, I was seriously, profoundly skint, which made for a very interesting period in my life as I got used to living with no heating (for the first winter). Due to a lack of money I couldn't afford to heat the boat using the propane-powered central heating system. I found a really cheap stove - a type known as "slow combustion" - which was intended for greenhouses and the like. They had a highly insulated chamber so the burn rate could be pretty low without them losing too much heat and going out. I think they were meant to burn garden rubbish, etc. I vaguely remember the brand was "Arctic". Making a hole in the steel roof for the 4 inch flue was a terrible job! I had no mains electricity; I can't remember if I had a cordless drill back then, but I don't think so as I would have had to recharge it at work and I've no memory of that. Anyway, I do recall using a hand drill to drill all round the circumference of the hole (1/8" steel plate), then joining them up with a hacksaw blade, then filing it vaguely smooth. It took days. I stood the stove on a paving slab inside the boat, fed some stainless steel flexible flue liner (totally the wrong stuff) up to the roof, and on the roof I mounted a hinging chimney made with a piece of steel pipe a mate had given me. Fuel was the next challenge. I couldn't really afford to buy any, so I foraged around in the woodland on the opposite bank from where I was moored, bringing back bits of fallen wood. It was OK; better than nothing. The Soar was frequently in flood during the winter, and all sorts of stuff came floating down past me from further upstream - various bits of people's sheds that had washed away, all sorts of other pieces of timber, several gang planks from other boats, even a complete door on one occasion. These were like a bounty for me: at those times the supply was plentiful, and timber doesn't need seasoning like fallen wood does. I quite enjoyed sawing it all up on the back deck, late into the evening, under the star light.

Hey, cool! How old would he be, now? Do you know anything about his life post-Barrington Bashers? Cracking set of pictures, @canalbuff! I, too, became an expert at arse-crack steering. ?

Ah, that does explain things, yes. Stolen paint! Honestly, you'd hardly think it was worth it. There was a woman worked in their office - does anyone remember her? I have this vague memory she might have been a relative - sister, or something. @canalbuff: My apologies! I meant to direct my "Where did you live on it?" question to @Sycamore.

8" of ice! I recall those years - we had a mini-Ice Age. It once went down to -13C on my boat, moored at Redhill. Look at this: Nothing on Google at all. That seems pretty unusual, and makes me wonder if he is no longer around. @canalbuff and @Sycamore: What was that story about some kind of criminality associated with those boats? I've got vague memories of someone being jailed, but I really can't remember any details. I think I probably never knew any. @canalbuff: May I ask whereabouts you lived on your boat? And how was it? Mine was bloody cold! ?

@canalbuff: You are right about that hole where my boat was moored; the sides were too sloping and it was incredibly muddy. Do you remember that old guy who lived on his narrowboat at Redhill while we were there? He had a proper working boat, but it was used for school trips, so he told me. He told me he was married and had a wife in Loughborough, but he found living in a house unbearably hot after a lifetime on the canals. He happily wandered around in sub-zero temperatures with just a scruffy, open-necked shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Must have been in his late 70s by then. What was the marina owner called? Richard something? I wonder if he's still alive. I remember him getting married during my time there. He also seemed to have remarkably little respect for the rulings of the local council, building that access road against their wishes, if I recall correctly, and various other activities. And I also wonder if Roger Barrington is still alive. It would be great to find him and get his story.

How interesting. I didn't know Roger Barrington had anything to do with Calcutt Boats. Could he have been an employee who then left to set up his own fleet? The heating system and engine are different in the one you quote; the Barrington Bashers had Sabb engines and an ordinary gas boiler with radiators.

I think they were collectively known as "Hornbeam Class". I guess that means mine was number 7?

Hey, @canalbuff, this is exactly my story!! Why do we not know each other? I bought Silver Fir when Barrington Boats was selling up: 56ft, although I think mine was 12-berth. I can't remember the exact year, but it must have been '81 as you say, because I think they sold the whole lot. What puzzles me is that I moored in that dug-out hole at Redhill "Marina", and I can't remember your boat. Do you remember mine? In a moment of utter madness I decided to repaint it yellow and black, so it probably stuck in your memory if you did see it! Mine was moored on the side of the hole directly opposite the entrance (thus parallel with the route of the river), with the bow facing south. Does that ring any bells? I lived on it for three years. There is so much to discuss - I hope you will respond. :-) Me too, at Redhill Marina. I'd love to discuss this further with you. :-)