2005 Cruise

[Bill Kennedy]

Wednesday 30 March

I don’t believe it.

 

We woke to the realisation that today is the day. We’re really going. All went according to plan and we stood before the Royal Brunei (RB) desk waiting to be called forward when the attendant came from behind her counter to greet us, by our names, no less. The thought goes through my mind, my, this business class is impressive. I may never be able to fly cattle class again.

 

“I’m terribly sorry”, she said, “I don’t know how to tell you this but they changed the plane yesterday and business class passengers have been moved forward to first class” (I can live with that, thinks I). “All of those seats are now taken as everyone came early and we’ve had to put you in the old business class”

 

Heart sink. “You’ll have the same meals and service as the others but you won’t have leather seats”. “The seats are comfortable but not the same”. Not the same. Nothing like it sweetheart. Mine wouldn’t even recline thanks to someone’s suitcase wedged behind it. (Dear Bill swapped later). And so there we sat for the next six hours to Brunei, legs dangling down, receiving the meals that the first fifteen passengers didn’t want, and watching those lucky buggers up front lying horizontally and dozing their heads off. All we could do was console ourselves it could only get better and immerse ourselves in a movie.

 

At Brunei we galloped to the RB desk for seat reallocation and were awarded the last two seats in business class. It seems our destiny to be “down da back ‘o da bus”. The meal story was the same. “Sorry madam, salmon’s off, there’s only chicken or chicken”. But pleasant chicken it was.

 

After two hours of airport boredom at Brunei, we boarded our 767 to Dubai and joy, oh joy, there were the most luxurious, all singing, all dancing sky beds. They would have kept a 10 year old amused for hours. As I’d been awake since 4am that morning, I decided now would be a good time to sleep and after dinner gulped down the treasured Stilnox to sleep before the next three hourly force feeding. It was so nice to lie almost horizontally and sleep for a few hours. Another movie - RB were having a Johnny Depp fest (but who’s complaining).

 

Our only bit of excitement was the loss of Bill’s earphones behind his seat when he reclined and our unfortunate attempt to retrieve them after dinner while balancing his dinner tray on the tray table. The end result was a headset that didn’t work, a distorted tray table, an armrest buried inextricably in the depths of the chair’s mechanisms, with Bill lying prone during all of this and unable to bring his chair upright. This brought on an uncontrollable fit of the giggles in me as I juggled his dinner tray. This was obviously not the first time this had happened as the attendant had a secret manual button hidden in the armrest with which to restore normal configuration and calm.

The landing in Dubai brought back memories of last year’s unscheduled landing there after our BA plane lost five tons of aviation fuel and had to shut down an engine. This time it was a quick deplane, walk two miles, well almost, to a security screening point and then down some escalators and walk back two miles on the lower level to wind up directly below where you’d started from, wait half an hour in a boarding lounge then back onto the plane. The one amusement was overhearing a phrase in an unintelligible conversation between two Arab men “fook, ten dollars”. It seems the word is universal.

 

Then to the last leg of our 26 hour journey, Dubai to Heathrow. More attempts to sleep, more Johnny Depp and more leftover meals. Heathrow at last. We looked forward to getting our bags off early for the first time ever but one of our bags had lost its priority tag and finally emerged half an hour later after all the other business class passengers were long gone. So much for our first experience of business class flying and our treasured “bargain” fares.

 

Then it was a mile walk to the bus station, ₤52 fares to Wolverhampton, a good run up the M25 with two larrikin bus drivers, a hasty BLT at the nearby railway station cafe and then into a cab (Bill’s first ride in a London style cab) to Brewood and the boatyard. It felt like coming home.

 

Friday 1st April

Wolverhampton in a new light

 

We have a day to wait for the return of Sir Melleaus from a hire stint, and then to have its clean and service before we can set out. We’ve decided to catch the local “green bus” from Brewood to Wolverhampton to start the provisioning of the boat. It must be pension day as the bus soon fills with little grey haired old ladies going off to market with their fold up shopping trolleys. At the risk of looking like a little grey haired old lady, one of those shopping trolleys seems like a good idea for carting heavy wine bottles back to the boat. Putting them in the back pack gives Bill a hard time if the shops are a distance from the boat.

 

We left the bus at the Wolverhampton Art Gallery (promising myself for the second time that I’ll get back there one day) and hopped on a free city circle bus that took us around to the market (indoor and outdoor) area of the town. I just adore markets - it must be the peasant in me. We found a good shopping trolley after obtaining some market research from an old lady passing by pushing one identical to the one we wanted to buy. “Best thing my dear ‘usband ever bought me, love”. Good enough, we bought it - a flash red tartan model. Across the way in the covered markets was an Asian Grocery from which we purchased our Hoi-sin, soy, oyster and chilli sauces along with minced garlic and ginger, Basmati rice and some Jamaican spice mix that will perfume the galley beautifully. We notice with amusement that they stock the green curry paste that we’ve carted all the way from Australia but not the Mussaman or red curry paste of the same brand. Outside was the slipper man and we both bought slippers for evenings on the boat. I found a delicate little etched sherry glass for a pound in an op shop from which to drink my evening dose of “nanny’s special yellow Scottish medicine”. We decided to hold off buying meat and veggies until we see if Will is able to reinstate the freezer on the boat but do some surveying of the various stalls - black pudding and pork scratchings are new fare. From the china seller we bought four white noodle bowels for stir fries and curries. Then, like bussing veterans it was back on the bus to Brewood, quite pleased with our provisioning excursion.

 

There, it’s more reading and waiting. The boat will return in the morning and all we can do is wait patiently. A meal at the pub offered a diversion but we needn’t have bothered as it was all pretty ordinary food but the atmosphere was enjoyable.

 

Saturday 2nd April

Sir Melleaus returns

 

Dutifully at 9am our boat returned, along with several others, but as impatient as we were we knew we couldn’t board until 3pm, after the clean and service. To fill in time I accepted an invitation to go to Cannock with John’s wife Lynne and her friend Chris who wanted to grocery shop there. What a good idea that was. I managed to buy a wok, two navy folding camping chairs, my basins for washing and most of the remaining grocery items to fill the larder, including some inexpensive Spanish, French and Australian wines for the cellar. Lynne’s little car “bottomed out” going over a speed bump for the first time in its life.

 

The afternoon was brightened by a return call from Jane (of Jane and Brian 2004 canal trip fame) in reply to my left message. They think they’ll be able to visit us by car in the next weeks before they themselves set off northward to visit their daughter in Leeds. We look forward to it.

 

At last came the invitation to occupy our boat. Nina had it looking immaculate with fresh flowers (daffodils) and after taking some photos we stowed all our goodies away in a flurry of activity. After finalizing paperwork with Will, and being taken over the boat’s features by John, the team joined us to “christen”, the boat, bringing with them two bottles of chilled Piper Heidsieck champagne. Seven of us fitted comfortably (in narrowboat terms) in the lounge and, after much gaiety, they left around 10pm.

 

Sunday 3rd April

We’re off.

 

Like children on Christmas morning we were awake at 4.30am (Bill says we should be grateful it’s an hour later than yesterday) and ready to start but our heater had kept making its “on” noise all night despite being turned off and we wanted to check this out with John before leaving. The problem was soon solved once we spoke with him but, being Sunday, that wasn’t until 9am so departure time was delayed to around 9.30.

 

We left Brewood to the peal of church bells, under the familiar bridges and through corridors that will be a delicious green of newly unfurled leaves by the time we return but at the moment look open with the trees all still in bud. Being a month earlier there are no bird babies either but lots of nesting waterfowl. Squirrels were playing on the slopes of the cuttings.

 

Bill is pleased with the boat and finds it more responsive than “Sir Ironside”, last year’s boat. I have only one complaint. Sir M is a trad with room at the stern for only the helmsman and so there is no room for me. I can stand in front of Bill but it’s a tight squeeze or stand to his right out on the gunwale. I’m happy to do this but Bill fears I’ll be knocked off the boat as we go through narrow bridge holes. I can only reassure him by pointing out all the other women who stand in that position on trad boats. It’s awful not to be up there on the stern sharing all the sights. I tried sitting up alone at the bow and even messing about in the cabin but feel very “left out” doing this. I’ve persuaded Bill to let me give the gunwale a try tomorrow.

 

Today we had our first experience with a bandit. We were going through some narrows through the industrial section of a little town called Coven. I was at the bow and all of a sudden a foot long stick landed near me in the water. I looked up and couldn’t see anything and then two stones hit the cratch cover above my head and I heard someone call out. I looked up and there, high on the embankment was a youth in a navy hooded sweat top throwing missiles at the boat. I yelled “Do you mind.” and then realized this was foolish as he could have followed us and kept up the barrage of projectiles. Fortunately he didn’t and we proceeded on our way, warning a boat waiting to enter the narrows as we exited.

 

We have moored an hour early at 3.30 near Gailey Round House, a circular former lock keeper’s cottage, now a “craft” shop. Thought it would be cold tonight as it has been during the day but the wind has dropped and it is a very pleasant evening. Time for “Nanny’s special yellow medicine”.

 

 

Monday 4th April

Retracing old steps

 

We pulled out of the Gailey mooring at 8.10am (after having both woken at 4.30 - we are still resetting our clocks). I had my reintroduction to locks with twelve today’s tally. Yesterday there were no locks except for the stop lock at Autherley Junction. I also had my first drive of the boat, driving out of locks and picking Bill up, passing other boats and going through bridge holes. I have yet to drive it into a lock. Perhaps tomorrow, though the wind is predicted to be up and narrowboats hate the wind. Under those circumstances, best leave it to the Cap’n.

 

To our great joy the sun shone today. We saw our first nesting swans and the first of the Canada geese. They will arrive in their thousands to breed in the next month and we’ll get used to their honking. I haven’t enthused yet about the flowers but the daffodils are magnificent and I am so glad that we we’re early enough to see them. The other thing that delights me is the grape hyacinths which are everywhere in their purple profusion. Passed a Daphne bush today on an excursion into the town of Penkridge and the perfume was fantastic. The magnolias are all bursting into spectacular bloom. The whole country is awakening to spring.

 

We have travelled a route today that we travelled last year but in the reverse direction and it’s interesting how little of it we recall. It has been a day of bridges, pretty stone ones as well as functional brick ones and, with the sunshine, they have been reflected in the water of the canal in a quintessential English countryside cameo.

 

We plan to travel NNE towards Great Haywood, where we’ll swing SE and come down through Tamworth and Coventry to Braunston. This afternoon the weather cooled and the wind came up. We moored at Tixall wide for the night, a small lake like expansion of the canal with a rich history. We looked across the water at the Elizabethan gatehouse that once belonged to a hall that stood on the nearby hill. Mary Queen of Scots was imprisoned at the hall in 1586 but it is long since demolished. It was cold and windy with rainy squalls. Our little Australian Geographic shop barometer showed the sunshine was over for the moment but surprisingly, as a finale of the day, the weather cleared and there was a very peaceful sunset.

 

Our little stove gives good warmth to augment the diesel central heating which doesn’t filter through to the “lounge” enough for our liking. And there, in our easy chairs, with the help of a glass of passable Californian white imbibed with our assemblage of chicken tagliatelle with chilli and tomato sauce, we fell asleep.

 

Tuesday 5th April

New Territory

 

Another unfortunate 4.30am waking. Perhaps it’s the alcohol. One of these fortnights I must try having none and see if it improves the sleep. However I can become quite used to a little lie in and a read. The boat has this delicious facility of having the central heating switch on the side of the bed and you have only to reach down and switch it on when you wake to a cold morning.

 

We left Tixall wide at our customary 8am and headed to Hayward Junction, turning SE into territory we’ve never travelled before. At the junction we were to turn right but the water point we wanted was to the left. So Bill thought he’d do a clever reverse into the left arm. I didn’t realise what he was trying to do and was making all sorts of useless suggestions. Fortunately he took no notice of me and ultimately completed the task. I nipped over the road to the canal shop to buy some kindling for our stove and succumbed to some other goodies including some yummy ginger nut biscuits. When I returned another boat have breasted up with us and so we waited while they took on water, bought diesel by the can and the boat’s woman had her turn to go to the canal shop. Half an hour later we were still there but it gave us the chance to have a chat to a Scottish family who moor their boat nearby and were out with their son and his wife and their three children. The grandfather was interesting. He said his wife won’t go on the Thames as she doesn’t like the “big water”. Even though it was cold they were delighted to be here as it had been snowing of late in Scotland.

 

Early in our travels today we passed a heritage Fellows and Morton boat driven by steam and as it passed its chugging was strangely and delightfully musical. Also passed a boat towing a full sized butty which was the owner’s equivalent of a shed. We passed by Shugborough Hall, home of Lord Lichfield, the grounds of which we visited last year. Where the canal traverses his land there is a beautiful iron bridge called the Essex Bridge. The river Trent ran beside us for most of the day and there were very few locks. The area was decidedly rural and quite pretty. We went through a forest with dense rhododendrons as undercover. It will be a picture in a couple of months. We did a brief shop for meat and veggies at Rugeley and then went through the town of Armitage, famous for toilet plumbing and passed factories with acres of stacks of toilets and basins etc, all packed in plastic bundles. Passed Hawkesyard Priory, built by the Dominican order to whom Josiah Spode left his house in 1893 and is now a nursing home and a spa. Traversed the Armitage “tunnel”, a narrows cut through the rock face.

 

This evening we have secured a pleasant mooring above Fradley Junction and been down to the pub for a drink. In the morning we’ll pass through two locks and, at the junction, turn down the Coventry arm, continuing our south eastern journey. Bill made a great chicken curry which we’ve just enjoyed and our little stove warms us for a rainy, cold and windy night. After a similar morning it is predicted the sun will shine, about which we are delighted.

 

 

Wednesday 6th April

Battling the elements and haulin’ coal

 

The weather man did not lie. We woke to quite foul weather and delayed our departure until 9.15 because of it and because we wanted to purchase a sack of coal briquettes at the junction. A very pleasant lady following us helped me through the first lock and I then returned the favour at the next. We both thought we were slightly crazy to be out in the cold, wind and rain. Bill moored at the junction and went off in search of coal while I waited with the boat and a moment later saw him staggering back to the boat with a 25kg sack of coal on his shoulder just like a true boatman. However I think a boatman of old might not have been uttering the same expletives.

 

We cruised through some very attractive and prosperous farming country today with very large farmhouses that would be the equivalent of the great halls of the canal era. There was one berry farm with shade frames, uncovered at the moment that must have extended over many acres. The canal followed the contour of the valley above the river Tame for most of today and we caught glimpses of it quite frequently, a couple of times from an aqueduct as we crossed over it or its tributaries. The sun delighted us by coming out at mid morning, right on cue.

 

We reached the delightful village of Hopwas around lunch time and lo and behold there was a superb mooring right outside a pub from the 19th century called the Tame Otter. Time for a pub lunch. And a most pleasant lunch it was too. I had the lemon sole and Bill had an open chicken pie. I am amazed the Brits don’t have a greater obesity problem than Australians do as my sole was not large but came with six potatoes. I promise I only ate three of them. Needless to say dinner will be light tonight.

 

There have only been four locks today. Bill did one of them and I brought the boat into the lock and to my surprise and delight, made a clean entry. Bill was most complimentary. Tonight we have moored outside the village of Alvercote. Our mooring is sheltered, for which we are grateful, as the weather report predicts more cold and windy weather with temperatures of 4-5degrees C.

 

Thursday 7th April

Wild and wintery

 

It was cold when we woke at 5.30 am and I thought a good lie in and a read was called for. I would have finished the book but Bill made boat readiness noises and I felt obliged to prise myself from under the covers. I can’t do this until the bedroom is all cozy and warm then it’s on with the thermals, and in the case of today, into my “Rosanne” wet weather trousers. These are so named after the episode in the series where Dan could hear Rosanne coming before he first saw and met her because of the noise her thighs made rubbing together. Swish, swish, swish.

 

The early part of today was a pleasant pastoral doddle through almost iridescent green fields, stopping at the little village of Polesworth to visit their library and send our emails. However there was initially no D drive when they logged us in but then the very helpful young librarian phoned her supervisor, logged in differently and “hey presto”. Polesworth has been a coal mining village since the 1700’s, with a later brickworks and pottery. There are several quite lovely half timber framed cottages there in the narrow little high street.

 

We began this morning cruising into such blinding sunlight that Bill called out for his sunnies. Then it pelted with rain, was windy and cold and now the sun is shining. All of these changes can happy in a matter of minutes. Bill has finally allowed me to ride “shotgun” on the gunwale and I do enjoy being up there with him. It also means I can have a steer now and again and get my days practice in. We had eleven locks today at Atherstone, breaking the group with lunch after the first six.

 

When we stopped this morning for water we met a couple who pulled in for water and to empty their cassette toilet at the Elsan point. This just happened to be directly opposite the stern of our boat where Bill was standing and, as the chap was engaged in conversation with Bill as he was doing this, Bill had to witness the entire exercise. Now Bill is not the best when it comes to being up close and personal with bodily functions and the look on his face, the flared nostrils and the terse little mouth made me stifle a smirk. Fortunately our “pump out “is not nearly so distasteful.

 

We moored out in the countryside by the towpath north of the town of Nuneaton. We stay away from moorings in towns wherever possible. Tomorrow we should leave the Coventry Canal and venture onto the North Oxford Canal and thence wend our way to Oxford over the next week. Once again our little fire is keeping us cozy after a lovely hot shower and it’s Scottish salmon, Jersey Royal potatoes, Spanish asparagus and carrots for tea (in our ‘jamas). Bliss.

 

Friday 8th April

Fire and Snow

 

Slept in until 5.30 so things are getting better. Bill, who was already up, informed me it was cold and blustery and that I should stay indoors today and keep the fire going. However after all my chores of washing up breakfast, hand washing, vacuuming, wiping over the galley and bathroom floors, doing the shower, basin and toilet, topping up the fire, (1hour, tops) and finishing my novel (last chapter) I donned my Rosanne pants and five layers of warmies and went up on the stern. I’m so glad I did. I had a little drive and then as we neared Hawkesbury Junction, north of Coventry, it became very cold and I noticed little white petals blowing onto the boat. I looked about for the tree they had come from but all I saw was a ploughed field. Then as I watched them melt on Bill’s jacket, I realised it was snow.

 

At the junction we took on water then moored for lunch, I ventured to the local shop for supplies and then we were off, passing through this historic little junction, also known as Sutton’s Stop. Bill did a perfect turn into the acute angled arm where the Coventry canal meets the Oxford, under the 1837 iron bridge. And would you believe it I didn’t have the camera on me. I would have may a perfect shot. However it’s captured in my mind. Another little flurry of snow came down as we left to begin our journey down the Oxford canal.

 

The beginning of the North Oxford canal travels through some very pretty rural countryside and after passing through a tiny hamlet called Ansty we travelled over the Brinklow embankment where the canal and the railway run side by side. I drove until my fingers froze, despite my fancy Gortex gloves. At one point the canal was bordered on both sides by high slopes on which clumps of daffodils were growing. Bill is not feeling too cheerful at the moment. When I went to the shop at Hawkesbury Junction he moved the boat forward from the water point to a visitor mooring by himself and while tying the front ropes (usually my job), he slipped and fell against the boat and I fear has done an injury to some ribs and his hand.

 

We arrived for our night mooring at Stretton Stop and just after we tied up (after some initial problems with a rock ledge stopping us getting close to the bank), the snow came flurrying down, all around the daffodils on the bank beside us. I tried to catch some snow on my jacket and got Bill to take a picture but I doubt if it will turn out. The flakes are only 2-3mm and melt virtually on contact. The crazy thing is, half an hour later, the sun was shining. Our little coal fire which has been burning all day has our cabin as warm as toast.

 

And when we thought all the excitement was over, as we were cooking our Massaman curry for tea, another dark cloud came across, bringing with it the best snow flurries yet, with flakes as big as a centimeter. Some poor folk next door to us were trying to moor in the midst of it all. And now, once again, the sun is shining. What strange weather.

 

 

Saturday 9th April

Ice on the Gunwale

 

Our faithful barometer said seven degrees inside the cabin when Bill got up. After he stoked the fire it came up to eleven but we knew when we prepared to leave at 8am and the ice went crack under my boot on the gunwale where a little water had pooled that it had reached freezing outside during the night. However the sun was shining and the day was not as chilly as yesterday. Nevertheless we have been in three layers and a windcheater, beanies and gloves all day and our little fire has not been allowed to go out.

 

Today is an easy day with a lazy idle through pretty farming country. We made a brief stop for supplies at Newbold on the outskirts of Rugby after I did my first tunnel (only 250yards long) of the trip. There have been only three locks, the first paired locks we’ve seen this trip. This indicated that this picturesque little area of Hillmorton was once a very busy centre. We stopped at the top for lunch. The canals are quite busy at the moment as it’s school holidays and there are lots of kids out on boats with the grandparents. We are dawdling behind two such very slow boats at the moment. We are unable to pass them as there are frequent bridges spanning the canal and the canal narrows as you go under them, hence the name bridge holes (or bridge ‘oles). One is likely to come across one of these as you attempt to pass or the canal is likely to make a sudden turn so you don’t pass and you become content to just go slowly. It teaches you patience.

 

Bill’s hand is making it hard for him to do ropes, impossible to do locks and my putting on his shoes and socks this morning and buttoning up his shirt warranted a bit of a tease. However I don’t think he’s broken anything and I believe it’s just badly bruised. The ribs are not much of a bother now.

 

We are making for Braunston this afternoon for our night mooring and expect to be there in a couple of hours. It would probably take ten minutes by car but we love the pace and being able to see the countryside. Today we saw remnants beside the canal of medieval “ridge and furrow” farming. In those days the ridges delineated a peasant farmer’s area of arable land but between the 15th and17th centuries these lands were given over to pasture and the peasants driven off. In this stretch there are also remnants of the old meanderings of the original canal before it was straightened in sections in the nineteenth century and these are often marked by beautiful old Horseley iron bridges.

 

STOP PRESS LYNN TAKES A LOOK

 

The afternoon was very cold but without the joy of the snow. I rode up with Bill for a lot of the time but needed to go below every now and again to warm myself by the stove. Finally we reached Braunston, our night mooring, at about 4.30. I was hoping for a smooth and convenient mooring and to make it to the chandlery by 5pm for more coal as we don’t expect them to be open tomorrow (Sunday).

 

The wind was blowing quite strongly and the canal at the site where there was a mooring space was sloping, just like last night. This makes it impossible to get the boat closer than about three feet from the bank and to reach the bank you have to leap from the boat. Now this body does not run and does not squat and now, I think, does not leap too damn well either. Bill, with his injured hand and ribs, was having problems holding the boat in the wind by the middle rope so I suggested he take my bow rope too, wrap them around his hips and I’d quickly get the pins and hammer them in and get us roped up. Got the front one done and leapt off the boat to go and tie the stern rope, slipped on the front of the boat as I leapt and in I went.

 

All I could think of was the camera around my neck. Needless to say it no longer worked and so it was hung above the stove with twenty other garments, its battery and flash card removed in the hope that it will dry it out quickly and may work again. The place smells like a wet chook yard with all the wet wool about. Only my beanie was spared and thank heaven, my mouth. I am now showered and my fingers are prune like from all the washing. My lovely RM’s (boots) may never be the same again. I have had one Scotch and am certain to have another. I informed Bill we were having cheese and biscuits, chips, chocolate and alcohol for dinner so he has now taken charge and is cooking tea. The interesting thing is he says his hand is much better. This is just as well as we must take it in turns to do these things so we can look after each other.

 

Sunday 10th April

Cornish pasties in the sunshine

 

The washing is dry, the camera is still non-functional (despite my operating on it with the hair dryer) and we decided to impose a Sabbath on ourselves and take a rest day. We have used our plank today to board and leave the boat. No more leaping for the moment. We have also vowed never again to moor when the bank is sloping. By way of forgiving the village of Braunston for my inglorious baptism we took a stroll up into the village, via the marina, about a mile return trip, Bill grunting with his ribs every step and me moaning with my knee with each step. What a couple of old crocks. In the village we found a shop for provisions and a butcher shop open on Sunday mornings, so we were able to buy some delicious Cornish pasties for lunch. Judging by the grease marks on the baking tray and the shortness of the pastry, there must be at least 50gm of fat in each one. But what great comfort food. The sun shone brilliantly as we ate these for lunch on the foredeck. Who would have believed it had snowed two days ago. At the butcher’s we also scored some pork and leek sausages recommended by one of the shop’s customers and will have those with Nigella Lawson’s squashed roast potatoes (with rosemary, garlic, sea salt flakes and olive oil), beans (from Egypt, no less) and carrots (unbranded but from nowhere in the UK, I’m sure).

 

 

We have travelled only a few miles today, from Braunston to Napton. Like getting back on the bicycle after a fall, I made myself drive. Bill is such a patient teacher. He lets me get myself out of scrapes (like two boats approaching a bridge hole at once) and doesn’t grab the tiller and take over. I am certainly much more confident than last year.

 

We have arrived at Napton early (3pm) and secured a better mooring than last year and have been down to the canal shop. They have kindling and coal but we didn’t feel inclined to lug it back to the boat. We will get water in the morning (outside the shop) and maybe get it then. There are nine locks to be done first thing in the morning. They will be my job as Bill’s hand won’t let him lock yet.

 

I spent part of the evening operating on the camera with the hair dryer but only seemed to have cooked the contents of the view finder. We enjoyed the planned dinner along with a wine which resulted in the two of us falling asleep in our comfy chairs by the fire. A fitting end to a comparative rest day.

 

 

Monday 11th April

Twists and turns.

 

Today’s plan was to get kindling, coal and water and to treat ourselves to dinner at the “Red Lion” at the historically significant village of Cropredy. We achieved only the water and even then in two sessions.

 

It began badly with my waking suddenly at 2am and immediately and ruminantly bemoaning the loss of my dear little camera. To have gone to the bathroom would have woken Bill so I lay there full of bladder. I don’t know whether it was my tossing or turning or not but Bill woke an hour and a bit later and, because of his ribs, moaned and groaned with every breath, cough and movement. That was the end of sleep for both of us. We got up, made cuppas and administered Panadol and a hot water bottle to the invalid, who later fell asleep stretched across two easy chairs by the fire . Miraculously the camera opened and I took a picture of him but we’ll have a look at the quality in a moment. I managed a couple more hours sleep and we arrived at the water point at 8.45.

 

No sooner had we put the hose in the tank than an early starting boat came out of the lower lock and with nine locks ahead of us we were anxious to take advantage of “set” locks. So too was another boat with two couples on board which had come to the dual water point shortly after we did so we decided to scrap the idea of coal kindling and water and get moving. Just as well as they were beasts of locks and to have to empty and then fill would have been a chore. The other boat had three people to do what one of us has to do so we didn’t feel too guilty. Half way up I had to hand over to Bill when I couldn’t get one of the winches to even move.

 

We reached the top by lunch time but delayed it until after taking on water at the top lock. Thereafter we meandered through eleven miles of glorious grazing land, the fields full of newly born lambs and their mothers. Most of the lambs were twins. We thought we’d spotted one set of triplets but then heard his mum bleating to him to “get back here this instant” from a hundred yards away. The farms are enormous and look extremely prosperous. The canal follows the contours of the landscape without locks for this entire distance so there were many twists and turns and hairpin bends (good experience for me). I drove for about half the distance and brought it in to our mooring for the night at Fenny Compton. Cropredy will have to wait.

 

 

Tuesday 12th April

Our first visitors.

 

Lovely news last night. Jane rang to say that she and Brian would come by car to meet us tomorrow. We arranged to meet at Cropredy at midday and have lunch at the “Red Lion”. This was the pub we had a drink at last year where they have straps above the bar (as in strap hangers on buses and trams).

 

I was up early, getting my “house” in order, vacuuming and washing floors and polishing windows. Bill even indulged me the picking of some branches of “blackthorn” (looks like a flowering cherry - very Japanese) for my floral decoration. Must have the boat looking spiffy for our first visitors.

 

As we approached Cropredy, we temporarily solved our stove’s fuel problem as a lockside dweller had bags of oak logs for sale. His wife was also selling potted plants. I resisted the temptation to begin a rooftop herb garden and instead, opted for a pretty pot of yellow primroses. So now I am a proper boat woman with flowers growing on my boat.

 

At the last lock before our day’s destination we waited for a boat to come up and I went forward to help with the locks. The driver of the boat ultimately exited the lock and on seeing our Aussie flag said to Bill “What coontray do ya coom from?” Bloody Hell.

 

For those of you new to our journal, we met Jane and Brian last year on the Grand Union when Jane was incapacitated with a back problem and couldn’t wind locks and, as we passed, Brian popped his head up out of their little boat and asked if they could share the locks with us. Over three days of travelling in tandem we enjoyed their interesting company and, as Jane is an accomplished craftswoman, we had lots to talk about. Brian and Bill talked boats.

 

They arrived today at Cropredy well before they expected to and before we did. To fill in time they explored the village and Jane found a gallery (useful later in the day as she took me back there). They arrived laden with all sorts of goodies - homemade marmalade jam, redcurrant jelly, apricot chutney and mint jelly (just the thing for that spring lamb I’ve been fantasising about). Jane had made a cherry cake and brought me a posy of flowers to press and a most useful and attractive embroidered glasses case to hang around my neck. No excuse now for losing my specs. We put in a lovely day chatting and had lunch at the “Red Lion” as planned. They were impressed by the features of the boat, especially its roominess.

 

Jane and I had a walk around the village which is charming as most houses are very old, often with thatched rooves and made of that lovely yellow Oxford stone. Any “new builds” are in a brick imitation of this stone so the colour tonings of the whole village are preserved - all quite charming. Cropredy was the site of a civil war battle in 1644 and apparently there are some memorabilia of this on display in the church. Will try to see them next time we come through. Have spent a lazy evening after Brian and Jane left, Bill reading, me doing some embroidery, an oak log burning in the fireplace, a glass of wine to hand. It is light now until 8pm. Today has been a beautiful, fine, warm, relaxed day. We are feeling no pain (apart from a few cracked ribs and a gammy knee).

 

 

Wednesday 13th April

Ride a Cock Horse or a Narrowboat

 

Banbury has to be the best place for boaters to shop. The mooring is right outside a major shopping centre and I mean up the ramp and through the front door. There’s a Sommerfield, a plethora of variety shops and even the local museum, all in the immediate environs of the canal. I spent hours in the museum last time we were here as we had a two day stop then.

 

This time we arrived from Cropredy, mid morning and have done a major shop, including getting the little fold up, suitcase like barbeque that boaters seem to find successful. We are optimistic of some balmy evenings on the bank. We are testing or little freezer and have stored away a meat and a fish parcel to see how it behaves. The tests with water worked well. We replenished the wine cupboard with three quid wine from California, Australia and France (on special 2 for ₤6). Sounds like poison but it’s really quite drinkable and our livers are still functioning.

 

The sun has shone beautifully today and the only shower was considerate enough to come while we were in the library sending our emails. On the way back to the boat we discovered a little greengrocer that I’d bought produce from last year. I christened him “Ronnie Barker” (from “Open All Hours”). Lo and behold he was still there in his little grey dust coat selling the same little twin packs of cos lettuce and his farm fresh eggs. And he still called me “Darlin” - I bet he says that to all the girls. His shop is in a little street called “Butchers Lane” in the old part of Banbury with its cobbled streets, half timber houses and stable yards. I keep imagining how it must have been in previous centuries. We will stay here tonight and have a longer haul to Lower Heyford tomorrow for fuel and a pump out. Then the next stop is Oxford. We’ll pass right through as we intend to stop on the way back. Once on the Thames, all locks are manned until we turn off at Reading onto the Kennett and Avon Canal.

 

The most wonderful news of the day is that the camera has responded to my ministrations with the hairdryer and seems to be working. Sure it sounds a little gritty as it opens and the pictures often need lightening with the Adobe programme but there are no amoebae or flagellates swimming across the screen.

 

 

Thursday 14th April

A little sunshine, a little rain and a soupcon of hail

 

We escaped Banbury at 8am just before a hotel boat after a brief chat with one of their crew of two who are Australian lads. The morning was grey as we set out across the Oxfordshire countryside. The frequent swing bridges precluded my riding on the gunwale as I always stand on the right and this the acute angle of the swing of most bridges. So I was relegated to the bow.

 

The fields are a most amazing green, some are newly planted with crops and the brilliant yellow of the rapeseed coming into flower brings new colour to the tapestry of the countryside. Spring lambs are everywhere and we met again, like old friends, a gaggle of geese at a farm we passed. They were in the same place in the same paddock as last year.

 

We shared the locking today as my knee was unhappy until I downed a Celebrex and consoled it with a hot water bottle. It has improved markedly this afternoon. When we stopped for lunch the temperature became a little cool and down came a shower. The raindrops seemed a little loud and when we went to the bow we could see the little spots of ice bouncing off the metal of the boat.

 

After lunch we traversed my favourite lock, Somerton Deep, which is one of the deepest narrow locks on the system. It has a positive gingerbread house of a lock cottage and is set against a backdrop of glorious Oxfordshire pastures. Last year I had a snap taken with me in the lock, driving, so we repeated the tradition today.

 

At Lower Heyford we had our pump out done, filled up with diesel and bought two bags of coal and two of kindling. I also succumbed to a window box painted with traditional canal roses and full of pansies and I transplanted my primroses into it as well. I have also stowed my coal like a good boat woman (bagged the large bag into smaller bags that will fit in the fuel locker). Bill refers to me as ”a bit of a grub” when I have coal dust all over me. I look like a chimney sweep.

 

The moorings are poor at Lower Heyford so we have journeyed out into the countryside for the night. On arrival the sun was shining so we christened the outdoor chairs and had “happy hour” on the bank.

 

At sunset the hotel boats caught up with us and moored immediately in front of us, breasted up. As they slid past us the lad we hadn’t spoken to this morning sighted our flags and called out to his mate “Aussies.” As they were mooring I went to the bow to take a snap and he called out “Bloody cold, eh?” Amusingly, the Aussie lad took our picture. They are from Perth. Bill told me he read in a canal magazine that it’s a bit of a dog’s life, crewing one of these hotel boats. We’ll definitely be away well before them in the morning, like the little pig beating the wolf to market.

 

There was a splendid sunset tonight casting a warm glow across the adjacent fields - all quite magical.

 

 

Friday 15th April

An eventful day or, shit happens

 

The day began peacefully enough with a 7.30am chat, lock side with the lad from the hotel boat. He has only been on the boat for a week and although he loves being out in the countryside is thinking of giving up after a month as his accommodation is poor (he’s sleeping in a two foot bunk) and he is working from 7.30am to 10.30pm - all for ₤160/week (6½ days).

 

We sauntered through a grey misty cold morning with the river Cherwell bubbling along beside us for most of the way. There was a splendid forested area with two nice designated mooring areas, ideal for summer but much too cold in the winter. It was such a dark secretive place it reminded me of gypsies in the wood from old girlhood story books.

 

At Three Pigeons Lock, a new house that we saw last year in the early stages of construction is now occupied and looks charming. It is a modern interpretation of a 50+ year old house beside it and although it has no central chimneys, they have put a sod covering on the roof of the cooking area of the house. Very much a snow country image. At the lock a border collie cross came out to play with me, bringing his piece of chewed wood and dropping it repeatedly at my feet for me to throw. I became his new best friend. Then an old country gentleman in tweed cap and Wellington boots came out of a laneway gate with three Springer spaniels to heel. The youngest one was so excited at the prospect of going for a walk he leapt sure-footedly up on the parapet of the stone bridge over the canal and ran along it. As we left the lock a lady in full riding gear came out of the same gate. We were certainly in the English countryside.

 

This morning was a time for revisiting swing bridges. The first was the one last year that I was full steaming towards while Bill was on the toilet and I had to do an emergency stop when I realised it was the first we’d struck that was not raised. The second was the big swing bridge in Thrupp that I was sure I’d drop on Bill’s head as he went under it as I could only keep it raised using my entire body weight thrown across it. Somehow it seemed easier this time. Must be the muesli. I sighted the boat the name of which I thought quaint last year – “Thrupp’ny Peace”. A lock further on and we were recognised as coming from Brewood by a lady from the village of Coven near Brewood. She recognised the livery before she read the sign on the boat. Their boat is called “Piggiwig”, and a cute little boat it is too.

 

We knew we were nearing Oxford when the graffiti was being used to make a political statement and had been changed from last year. The other sign was that the canalside allotments grew more vegetables, possibly reflecting environmental conscience. This year we elected to bypass the canal trip into Oxford and went down Duke’s cut (formerly owned by the Duke of Marlborough) and straight onto the Thames, taking on water and quaffing soup and croutons as we did so.

 

And then we were on the Thames. Magic. - water meadows , cows grazing, pollarded willows with the last of the daffodils beneath them, large brown geese (not seen until here), and in the distance Oxford, city of spires. I could count seven at least as I gazed ahead, enjoying the tranquility of the experience from the bow. Even the boat sounded happier to have deep green water beneath her. On the bank, rows of cruisers replaced the familiar line of narrowboats.

 

We quickly reached Godstow lock with the haunting ruins of Godstow Abbey. While tied up, waiting for the lock-keeper to prepare the lock, we chatted to a couple from Perth who seemed interested in the boat. They watched us traverse the lock like the experts we thought we were. They say pride comes before a fall. We were about to fall.

 

More quickly than we could have believed our desired mooring just short of Osney Lock came into view. I stood up and peered around at Bill at the stern. We could see that there was an available mooring, right where we wanted to be. We gave each other the thumbs up sign. Little did we know disaster (almost) was about to strike.

 

Like a good boatwoman I leapt off with my bow rope and tethered it to the bollard. Under normal canal conditions, Bill would then bring the stern around, jump off and tie his stern rope. But neither of us accounted for the speed of the current which was faster than we’d encountered on our two previous moorings here. It swung the stern of the boat across the channel (which is about 50ft wide at his point and edged with concrete). Bill shouted for me to release the bow rope, thinking he’d swing the nose out and go further down the channel to moor, but the current was too fast and all that did was allow us to slam us into the boat in front.

 

Suddenly our 58ft lovely boat was wedged broadside across this narrow fast flowing section of the Thames and we could not free it. Two passing ladies with a toddler and a babe in a pram tried to help until they pleaded that the baby needed feeding. Then came two men who ran thither and fetched a winch. I always admire men who, in the centre of a city like Oxford, have a winch in the boot of their car. All to no avail. The current was stronger than all of us. I inched along the gunwale to Bill who was, of course on the other side of the river and with him pulling as hard as he could on the stern rope and me with the boat in full throttle reverse and pushing the boat away from the bank, we started to free the stern. That was, until Bill slipped and fell, saving himself from falling in by a quick roll landward. In that second of dismay in his eyes I read “Oh my God, not again. I’m sure to drown this time. I wonder if Lynn will have the initiative to cut the engine before the prop gets me.” etc.

 

Finally we inched the stern back enough to make another run at the mooring and by throwing ropes to the two guys on land (hoping to hell the ropes didn’t wind up in the prop), we managed to moor just where we’d wanted to be half an hour or so earlier. After the two lads had declined a beer and left us Bill was hunched over the hatch. Oh dear, thought I, “Are you alright, what’s the matter, do you have chest pain?” “No”, said Bill quietly, “I’ve just never seen such a cock up in all my life.” What can I say?

[Bullfrog]

Welcome back Bill and Lynn.

 

Diary looks to be the same excellent quality as last year, well done.

 

Can't wait for the next episodes

 

Regards

 

 

David Bridle

[stuart]

What an epic adventure!

 

What would you have done differently on the Thames section to stop this happening again?

[bottle]

The percieved method is to always face 'UP' stream when mooring on a river. When not possible get the boat to the mooring point and hold station in reverse land crew and tie stern first.

 

The theory is good but not always in practice.

Edited August 18, 2005 by bottle

[Bill Kennedy]

Bottle is right - you should moor with bow upstream where possible. However it was not possible where we were. We were going downstream with nowhere to wind. The simple answer in that situationis to always tie up stern first. The sad part is I knew that but simply took my eye of the ball with near disastrous results. I vowed never to let it happen again - I hope not famous last words.

 

Cheers

Bill

[Bill Kennedy]

Welcome back Bill and Lynn.

 

Diary looks to be the same excellent quality as last year, well done.

 

Can't wait for the next episodes

 

Regards

David Bridle

28148[/snapback]

Thanks David. Lynn is the author and I just do the editing. I will get more posted in the next couple of days.

[viking]

A lovely log Lynn. Especially since your route to a certain extent mirrored our own from our delivery voyage in June/July this year. We were able to relate to your travels very easily.

 

I look forward to the next installment particularly your impressions of the K+A where we are now based.

 

When we witness such extreme enthusiasm for canal travel in this country from so far away, it almost seems a shame to be beating you at cricket

[Bill Kennedy]

A lovely log Lynn. Especially since your route to a certain extent mirrored our own from our delivery voyage in June/July this year. We were able to relate to your travels very easily.

 

I look forward to the next installment particularly your impressions of the K+A where we are now based.

 

When we witness such extreme enthusiasm for canal travel in this country from so far away, it almost seems a shame to be beating you at cricket  

28317[/snapback]

 

Thanks Viking. See Part 2 for the K&A.

 

Now to cricket. I see you have fallen into the old trap, being lulled into a false sense of security before the Aussies pounce in the fourth test. Seriously though England has done extremely well and I, for one, would not be disappointed if they regain the Ashes.