Oh look, here's fun

For weeks now Jim has been driving me mad (yes, even more than usual) by reading out bits from CWF and from emails from Moominpapa, and worse, far worse, trying to EXPLAIN to me about matters electrical, and this is something I neither want nor need to know. The fact that I have a total mental block against understanding it doesn't help either. But will he stop trying to tell me?

Yes, yes, I know it's important to know the basics. And I thought I did. I know how to wire a plug and I know what fuses are for and how domestic earths work, and I know not to stick my fingers in sockets and throw electric fires in the bath and all that sort of thing. But bloody hell, it's a whole different ball game on boats. In my naivety, I'd have thought that 12v DC would have to be simpler than 240v AC, but how wrong can you be?

But I suspect that no one else really knows either. Otherwise they wouldn't constantly be arguing about it, would they? It's a matter of as deep division as the Creed. It's what we philosophers call an essentially contested concept.* There are, I would go so far as to hazard, no objective truths (short of don't stick your fingers in the socket).

So these objects are for something. Just don't ask me what.

*Don't bother looking it up. This is not, strictly speaking, true.

A different kind of quiet

In theory, one of the beauties of a boat is the chance to get away from the noise and distraction of everyday life and get some real peace and quiet. In practice, of course, it doesn't always work like that. Boats are also great for working on, socialising on, and indeed living on - and bringing much of that noise and distraction with you. The days you can sit, alone, just looking out across the water, are few.

So you might think that having an engine like Warrior's, which could not, by any stretch of the imagination, be called quiet, would be anathema to someone who craves tranquillity and solitude; that it would be the cause of stress rather than relaxation. I possibly even thought this myself in the past, much as I love the engine. But on my last visit I realised how wrong that was. What stops you being alone with your thoughts isn't noise per se, but speech - conversation (even one sided!), or the radio, or other people's conversations overheard. Even most music, especially with words, demands attention and breaks the thread of your daydreams. Start the engine, however, and all that fades away, and you're surrounded instead by an entirely rhythmic and (provided nothing goes wrong) utterly predictable buffer of sound between you and the outside world. Lack of quiet, but not of peace.

Hope and anchor

Oh boy, look what we've got. Jim spotted it among a pile of old stuff outside one of the chandleries in Newhaven, and snapped it up for a bargain price. I'm not sure what this means for our future travels, and whether it's reassuring (I was never sure our other anchor would be up to anything too strenuous) or worrying (about where such reassurance might lead us to venture).

Nor am I entirely certain where it's going to live. There was a brand new narrowboat at Floods Ferry when we were there - if I remember rightly it was called Wandering Snail, and featured a painting of one and an elaborate pun about being the 'less cargo' carrying company. Anyway, it had been built with a special anchor shaped recessed panel in the cabinside. Terrible, isn't it, how you never think of these things until it's too late.

Incandescent

Until I realised that it would align me with a Daily Mail campaign, I was quite attached to old fashioned incandescent light bulbs. I never quite got round to stocking up on them before they disappeared from the shelves - the demise of Woolworths put paid to that, somewhat procrastinated, notion, but I still maintained that the replacements couldn't save that much electricity as the fact that they take so long to warm up means that you never turn them off... That and the deadly poison. In all seriousness, this does have about it the whiff of a policy that wasn't quite thought through.

There was, however, a fairly convincing piece in the Guardian last week that persuaded me that not switching over to energy saving bulbs is in fact morally equivalent to raping a polar bear. So I will accept the coolly flickering domestic gloom with something approaching equanimity. No more 100 watt bulbs for me.

Fifteen* watt ones are a different matter. Let's face it, on the boat - at least with the fittings we've got - compact fluorescents are not a possibility. Ironically, though, alone of everyone I've ever met, I actually like flourescent light; at least the old fashioned sort than emanates from long tubes. At least it's bright. And it's diffuse. What I don't like is concentrated spots that get in my eyes. Had fluorescent tubes on Andante; absolutely fine. But Warrior has those directable spotlights and we're pretty much stuck with them. We've tried the LED bulbs - to save on battery as much as anything else; say what you like, but with hauling your coal in and worrying about your batteries there's nothing like boating to make you aware of your energy use. Hmm, and your waste disposal. But they gave up the ghost very quickly, and were flickery and unreliable. So it's tungsten bulbs for Warrior. And just to make sure we don't run out, or have to buy at chandlery prices, we stocked up at Ramsey Motor Factors for fifty pence apiece. They were also excellent at finding us the bulbs we needed for the old brass bulkhead lights in the engine room and back cabin.

*oops. 21 watt actually, as the photo clearly gives away. I thought they were nice and bright.

The frame of the rose

For a long time Jim has been adamant that we need to redecorate Warrior's bathroom. The original elastoplast pink was getting tatty in places, and the wall behind the bath was damaged when the kitchen was ripped out from the other side of it. But every wall in that bathroom has a beautiful swag of roses painted on it. To have painted over them would have been unthinkable (to me at any rate). So for a long time we were at an impasse. Then (and I am going to take full credit for this) I had an idea. It took me quite a long time to convey this idea adequately, but eventually, with the help of some photos of Tarporley's back cabin, I think I managed it. And this is the solution at which we arrived.

And here it is in the process of being done:

I haven't yet seen it in the flesh, although I've seen the graining and it suits the small space of the bathroom really well. In addition, Jim has stiffened up the bath side panel with some 2" timber strips, and lined them with moulding too.
And oh dear, yes, that's the spare toilet in the bath. The pumpout was frozen, of course.

The name of the rose

I was browsing through last year's posts the other week, while compiling my somewhat peremptory review of the year, and realised that Martin Duiker, who painted Warrior's roses and castles back in 1995, had left a comment on this post. John had mentioned that Martin had been in touch, but I thought we'd missed the chance of contacting him. However, I have emailed him now to say how much we love Warrior's 163 roses and seven castles. Hope you get it Martin - or if not, that you see this. More on this subject tomorrow...

Meanwhile in Ramsey...

Jim has today returned from a lengthy - since December 29th - sojourn on Warrior. What he has been doing, I shall share with you another time. But it was, it goes without saying, a trifle chilly. Apparently John was actually standing on the ice, breaking it for the swans - who showed their gratitude by aggressively chasing him. Today, of course, as Jim left, the thaw sets in. Still, at least he remembered his slippers this time.

Get a grip

Our scenic new mooring spot is actually an older one, part of the original marina. And it has a wooden pontoon. Which is the most slippery thing I have ever tried to walk on, and that includes an ice rink. Imagine the most slippery surface you can, and then pour some oil on it. It still isn't as slippery as our pontoon. Fortunately, Jim had some expanding mesh, which he has already used to good effect on some wooden steps in the garden, and has applied this to the pontoon. It's even grippier than chicken wire, having rather sharp edges. So it's just as well we're not likely to fall over on it now, as it's a bit like a giant cheese grater.

20: Shining in the East

15: And this shall be the sign

Warrior in the process of being signwritten, early this summer.

14: All is bright

I'm not sure what the occasion was, but here we are with the brass all done.

I remember! It was the visit of Carl and Sean. Of course.

Light fantastic

Fast running out of light puns. It was a (nice) surprise to learn that Jim had done this job. Way way back we (he?) bought a pair of lovely solid brass bulkhead lights with satisfyingly thick chunky glass at some show or other. One of them was fitted in the engine room last year, and I thought it would look nice, as well as be useful, to fit the other one above the table cupboard (where one might more usually have a mirror?). The only light on the back cabin before was on the side wall towards the engine room end, and pretty useless at illuminating the end where you would most likely be sitting (although very handy for reading in bed, of course).

This second light is not perfect; it has at some point suffered a severe bash which has dented the brass cage on the front and broken the glass. But it's still lovely enough to use and enjoy, especially since we bought up a vast stock of bulbs when we finally found them, at 50p each, in the Ramsey motor factors.

The photo, as you can see, shows only the hole cut in readiness. There aren't any decent ones of the light in situ. But I'm sure you can imagine it.

Something to report

At last, there is news and photos. Many photos, which Jim brought back with him yesterday. He has finished the back cabin, and completed the graining in the bathroom; fixed the gear lever, and looked long and hard at the back boiler. He has used nearly sixty quid's worth of varnish alone - and that's not even at Craftmaster prices. All the dark bits, basically, are new. Everything without roses on has been redone. Some of these areas were previously done in that rather crude yellow graining, but all the framing - it seems so long ago now - had been painted over in a horrible royal blue. The initial plan was just to redo those bits but it sort of growed.

The photos provide just a tantalising glimpse of what has been achieved, and I have insisted that we go up again in a couple of weeks so that I can see it in the flesh. Then of course we will be going for Christmas too. Jim has heard a rumour from Moominpapa that Salters Lode may re-open ahead of schedule around December 18th, so Christmas in Cambridge might just be on the cards again. Or New Year, which would be even better.

Other exciting things to report are that Warrior has a new berth at Bill Fen with a more, in estate agent speak, open aspect (although I never minded looking out at Axe, even if it is somewhat unrecognisable from the side with its pearlescent purple cabin and upvc double glazing), handier for the pumpout and with closer car parking. For anyone that remembers, it's pretty near where our temporary spot was when we first arrived there. With the new mooring have come new neighbours who, from all accounts, are jolly nice.

How long has that been like that?

When we visited Warrior the other week we discovered a second thing that needed repairing following our grand tour. In order to paint the back cabin ceiling (the dark graining being such a hit that we decided to redo the lot), Jim disconnected the gear linkage. At which point he discovered that where the vertical lever connects to the gearbox itself, the rod was actually broken, and had just been sitting in the casting. To be honest, we have no idea how long it had been broken, but it might account for why we felt there was a bit of play in it, and I wasn't always definitely sure whether or not it was in gear (e.g. reverse when trying to stop).

There is a cast connection on the gearbox which is a cup, into which the vertical rod fits. This in turn is linked to the horizontal rod that runs along the cabin ceiling and terminates in the handle which we push and pull. The vertical rod is made of brass, and is threaded at its lower end; it screwed into the casting. It's broken at the top the thread.

The threaded part is pretty near impossible to remove, so the most likely solution will be to splint it with a smaller rod on the inside. Hopefully this will make the gear change more positive and definite.

Grainy photo

Day 44, still at Northampton

Clearly the reception is much better in Northampton, so I have been getting detailed reports. The rain threatened for today didn't materialise, but Doddington Lock is still reversed for the time being. However, if it still looks set fair tomorrow I think the plan is to proceed in that direction so as to be in pole position when it does re-open. Surprisingly (to me) only a couple of other boats are waiting along with Warrior and Lucky Duck. I hear that Northampton is actually rather a nice place, as well as being well provisioned with supermarkets, and today the combined crew took a pleasant perambulation in search of the water point.

Jim has been making constructive use of all this enforced spare time by graining the back cabin. Now, it was already grained, quite crudely, in a very yellow pine effect. Onto this the wonderful roses were painted. But the framing around the panels, whatever it was originally, had at some point been done over in a royal blue that didn't go with anything else and just looked pretty awful. So the idea was just to redo those parts, with darker, contrasting, graining. There has been a bit of an ongoing controversy about just which other bits - including some tatty and/or damaged panels - should also be redone, with me holding out for keeping them as they were and Jim wanting to redo them. Well, he's there doing it and I'm here, so I may have to concede gracefully on that point. I can see it might be quite addictive... well, I'll just do that little bit more... and that bit.. and... oops, I've done all of it.

Anyway, thanks to the wonders of mobile telephony, this afternoon I received from James a photo of the work in progress. It's looking pretty impressive. I think that must be Jim's head at the bottom. I wonder if he'll come back with a big white beard...

You can keep your tumble driers...

Day 6, Napton to Fenny Compton

Thought you might appreciate an update on how the apparel recycling is going. Without being too indelicate, I can report that only three sets/pairs (and yes, that is with clean ones every day, thank you) of anything have been used by me so far, so perhaps I could have saved even more packing space. Also I have been washing my tops and today I got ambitious and washed my shorts… and by this evening, they were dry, thanks to the patent National clothes dryer. It’s not as efficient as it was, of course (and you can no longer make tea with water out of the tap) but that’s a small price to pay for the engine not blowing up.

Today we set off a bit later, as we’d decided to take it a bit easy (all relative as it turned out) and I got some more brass done this morning. It was slow getting up Napton with queues of two or three, and we stopped at Fenny Compton at quarter to seven. And guess what – went out for more chips, at the Wharf Inn, which was pretty good.

So not much exciting happened, again, today. There was a cow in the canal at one point, which caused us some consternation, feeling we should do something but having no idea what, but it got itself out as we watched, finding the shallow bank. It was quite touching to see the concern of its bovine comanions/relatives, who looked as if they were encouraging it out.

So, Cropredy tomorrow and a chance to relax and do absolutely nothing. Not sure how we’ll cope with that.

At long last (in more ways than one)

Yes, at long last we got Warrior signwritten, and at even longer last, I think I can post some photos, most of which were taken by Jim, but thanks to John for the ones taken from the bank.

I have given up on Webshots this time; it randomly refused to upload about three quarters of the photos (which needless to say were all the same type and size of file), so the signwriting photos are on Photobucket, here. Whoah! Read the story first...

The original plan had been to have the signwriting done by Dave Moore. We talked to him about it, and he did the temporary writing that served us for a year. I still feel rather guilty actually for switching, although he was very nice about it, and I'm sure isn't short of work. It would of course have been the absolute ideal to have Dave do it, with his flair, experience, training and reputation, but a few factors conspired to militate against that in the end: distance, cost, and the arrival at Bill Fen of the piratically named Black Boat John, who historically did all the Shotbolts' painting and signwriting.

He has done a good job. The main difference, I sense, is that we had to tell him exactly what we wanted. He couldn't give us any guidance. Unlike Dave, who chalked it out freehand, John plans it all on paper first. Most of what he has done hasn't been very traditional, whereas we wanted quite a plain, 1930s, sort of appearance. Of course there were lots of disagreements between Jim and me along the way, and every time I thought we'd agreed, it seemed he either changed his mind or it turned out we were actually visualising it differently. Changes continued to be made right up to the last minute, when I wasn't there. The plan had been to have all the writing in that very plain, sans serif, quasi-Grand Union style. Jim then read (or reread) Tony Lewery's book and thought that Warrior should be writting in a slightly more ornate style (or possibly much more ornate; maybe slightly more ornate was the compromise we reached)

It was also from this that he was inspired to have a vertical panel of diamonds under the drainage hole in the handrail. This I must say I like very much.

As you might gather, overall the scheme is a shameless pastiche of various aspects of old boats. It's not a replica of anything in particular, but hopefully it hangs together visually as long as you don't think about it too much. Our starting point was the age of the engine - 1937 - and the thought, what would we do if it was 1937 and we were just setting up in the tug business.

We were going to have both our names on it, but Jim decided either that that wouldn't look right (though actually the spacing would have worked well) or that he preferred to remain anonymous, so that is why only my name appears. Jim can be an honorary son. Feels like that sometimes anyway... The line under '& SONS' was in the initial plan, with both names; my idea was that in the later version the lettering should all be the same. However, John was working off the original sketch, and as I wasn't there... I'm not sure whether I prefer it or not, so I guess that means there's not much in it.

The address is the genuine address of Bill Fen, where we moor of course, and very near where Warrior was built, and it has a lovely ring to it, I think. Factory Bank runs alongside the High Lode going into Ramsey where the lorry breakers etc are, so is suitably gritty. I am slightly bothered by the thought that if one was setting up a tuggage business in the Fens one wouldn't necessarily have a narrow boat, but maybe someone could find me a precedent.

Wisbech was a genuine registration authority (they're listed in the Spring 2007 issue of NarrowBoat mag); and we just liked it better than Peterborough, which was the alternative 'local' one. Clearly if we plied our trade between Wisbech and Northampton and beyond (hence the narrowness, it's all starting to come together...) then we'd have to live on it.... (this may be what Emerson was referring to when he said that 'a foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds'. On the other hand, he might not have been thinking of boat painting schemes. Who knows.)

Bated breath and bitten nails

Not exactly; I've never been a nail biter. I may be bating my breath, but as I have no idea what that actually means, I can't say for sure. What is certain is that I am in a state of somewhat nervous anticipation, for Warrior's signwriting has commenced today, and I am (quick Google) 157 miles away and unable to see it. Now, of course we agreed, long ago, what sort of scheme we wanted. And then changed it and agreed again, and again, and again. It went from very fancy with red and blue, to very plain in cream and black.

Jim went up to Ramsey on Wednesday to rub it down so that John could do a final topcoat, including moving that errant border three inches; that is now done. Right up to the last minute, Jim has been having new ideas. One, that 'Warrior' should be written in a fancier style than the rest, i.e. with serifs (thanks Tony Lewery!), and two, that there should be a vertical panel of diamonds at the end of the painted part of the cabin. Both of these I can see could work, but last minute changes always make me uncomfortable... I am desperately fighting my control freak tendencies.

I probably won't see it now before we go up at the end of July to set off on our hols. I'll have to start a countdown soon. But in the meantime, I have the most splendid treat to look forward to. Guess where I'm going tomorrow...

Boatguests

At long last today we played host to Carl and Sean, our next door neighbours from home. We'd nearly got all the brass finished by the time they arrived. They were delighted with the Bill Fen CL, and we were impressed with their new caravan.

Of course, we went out for a boat trip. It was a beautiful sunny day, so we thought we'd better make the most of it and set off straight away, making and eating sandwiches on the way. We went out onto the Nene Old Course and past Floods Ferry, where Carl and Sean came with the caravan once. All were agreed that it's not what it was, and Carl in particular took a dim view of the addition of static caravans. Then we turned round and came back past the marina and on into Ramsey to introduce them to the delights of the Rainbow before returning to Bill Fen. On the way back Carl got me into Bad Ways, and we were both sitting on the foredeck trailing our feet in the water. It was lovely. So nice to feel the sun on my back at last.

It's just getting dark now, after a beautiful delicate pink sunset, as I write this; Jim is asleep, and I'm sitting in the back cabin with the doors open, listening to the plaintive, demanding calls of the peacocks. Earlier we saw a kingfisher, not just the usual fleeting glance, but over and over as he flew and settled, looking just like one in a picture book, and flew and settled again, always just a little ahead of us. And there was a hawk, hovering low and completely stationary as we went past, again, the closest I've ever seen one.

Carl and Sean are hooked, of course.

Ready for inspection

Carl and Sean arrive tomorrow. Their house is spotless. Their cats are impeccably trained. And sleek. When Carl feeds our cats while we're away, Jim always makes sure to wash the kitchen floor first. Carl has a very damning way of describing people as 'a stranger to bleach.'

Ever since we first got Helyn, Carl has followed our boating progress with great interest. He is the only other person I know personally who has not only watched all of Narrow Boat, but also Locks and Quays (which I've never seen). A lot of honour is at stake here. This is why we had to come up a day early in order to get all the brass done and the whole boat shipshape. It has taken me all day to do the back cabin, but I have polished everything. I have washed don all the walls and scrubbed the floor. I have blacked the stove. And coiled the rope. I've also removed the blue velvet-upholstered fitted cushions, and am now sitting on the bare grained side bed. It looks so much better, I don't know why I didn't think of it before. The cushions required for the bed all (just) fit in the bed cupboard, so I think it can stay this way. It's so much more practical, as well as looking brighter and less cluttered. The side bed is used far more as shelves than seating anyway.

Really, we should have a visit from Carl and Sean every spring - it's such a great incentive for getting ready for the summer.