Author: Maggie Page 5 of 7

We humans love to acquire things, and this inlcude people who live on narrowboats. In north america most homes are built with a basement. For basement read: a place to put things that you not quite ready to part with but don’t have any present use for. Or, I know this will come in useful for something, I just don’t know what yet. Or, I inherited all this stuff from my parents and I don’t know what to do with it. Or, I will just put this downstairs until…. In my case, until one of my sisters came and sorted it out. I began to call all accumulated stuff “yesterday work”. I had moved on but the clutter hadn’t, it was created yesterday and today I don’t want to spend my time dealing with it.

Some of us never have to. My last surviving aunt moved into a retirement residence when she was in her very late 90’s. She literally walked out of the home where she and her husband had lived since the mid to late 40’s. Over seventy years of accumulated stuff from life, various hobbies, sewing to lapidary work, painting to who knows what. My cousins had to sort it out in a hurry as they live far and wide across Canada. They worked together for a week pretty well non-stop. Another friend helped his friends who were unexpectedly made executors of a hoarders estate to sort out a whole house stuffed with possessions, including over 50 kimonos. So many that the Japanese Cultural Centre in Toronto could not take them all. My own sisters, Sally and Mary, sorted out Mom and Dad’s home, including over 4,000 books that Dad had in his two libraries, Roman history books, and steam railway books. I am eternally thankful to them.

I, on the other hand did it for myself, but with the help of all of my sisters. Lucky, lucky me. The basement terrified me.

Aside note: This is not how I thought the beginning of the posting would go. As usual, the writing takes over and hauls me in different directions. I will now try to get back to my main theme!

Narrowboats don’t have basements. Nor do they have attics, the sort of British equivalent. I say sort of because attics are a bit harder to get into than walking down steps to a basement. So I think that anything that ends up in an attic has taken a bit more consideration than “I will put it downstairs and think about it later” Not quite so much of a dumping ground. But we humans do accumulate things, sometimes it seems on an almost daily basis. And on a narrowboat, if there is no room inside, it ends up on the roof.

So once again, narrowboats express the full range of human characteristics. Some are totally uncluttered, the owners have found places for all their possessions, and if there isn’t space, out it goes. Others accumulate, and onto the roof it goes. I am impressed by life on a narrowboat. I don’t have all my kitchen gadgets, but I manage to cook meals that I enjoy. I don’t have my full wardrobe of clothes but manage to dress to “go into town”, and to be ready for all weather on the boat. It is a little bit harder to loose something on a narrowboat because there a fewer places to look! And there is a sense of achievement when you organize an area so that it functions well. I wonder if I can transfer that skill back to my home on dry land when that happens later this year.

And human beings are gardeners as well, and we have seen some amazing gardens on the top of narrowboats. I wish I had got a better picture of this one but it can be difficult to take a picture while your hand is on the tiller, especially when the camera is your cell phone. Mine needs to be unlocked and now that it is inside a waterproof case that has to be done with a code not my finger print. Then I have to turn on the camera, hold it up to get the picture and try and snap. All the while steering the boat and hopefully not bumping into something or running aground. But I have managed to get shots that work:

We have been having some glorious weather, and the countryside is beautiful. We are in Bath, and have come through Bradford on Avon which are very architecturally interesting towns, mainly built of creamy stone. I should know whether it is sandstone, or ??? but I don’t, yet. I hope to go to the Bath architectural museum in the next few days. It certainly makes the journey along the Kennet and Avon canal worth it, with all its heavy clunky lock gates and hard to budge swing bridges, and difficult to moor at sides. We have used the gangplank a number of times, including here in Bath.

Would I recommend visiting this part of the world? Yes, absolutely!

Have you noticed that after you have been driving a car for a while you start to get a sense of the size of the car. I feel it is almost as though our senses are extended to the shell of the car, that we can “feel” it. It allows me to feel confident maneuvering around parked cars, or between other obstacles. I have only had one vehicle that I did not develop this sense with, and I never felt completely comfortable making a lane change on the highway as a consequence. I have talked to Sally about this and she says she has felt the same, and also once has had the experience of not feeling the car. Well, I am happy to say that I am beginning to feel the skin of the boat. I can now sense when to slightly correct course when entering or exiting a lock, and when pulling up to a mooring. Now if only I could get the back end of the boat to stay in place when I reverse to stop. I know that boaters are reading this and saying “well, you just put the tiller in this position” but most of the time it does not work for me. It did today though in Bradford on Avon, and it felt very good.

Mary has been with me for most of the month of March, and apart from a few days in London we have been making steady progress, down the Oxford Canal, then the Thames and now the Kennet and Avon Canal. She will be leaving on April 3rd after which I will be single handing for a while. In preparation I have been practicing going through locks on my own. Allow me to explain the process.

We were going uphill at the time. Firstly, approach the mooring for the lock, and tie up. Check out the lock. Is the water with you or not. What the heck does that mean. If the water is with you then it is at the level you need it to be to enter the lock. If it is not, you have to empty the lock, in this case, because we were going uphill. When the lock is empty, and the exit water is smooth you can open the lock gates. You can’t open the gates until the water is level. Someone mentioned that an inch of water represents 5 tons of pressure. I am sure an engineer reading this will explain more fully. It is an amazing feeling to move those lock gates. They themselves can be up to 2000 kg each. It also feels a bit like a miracle that we can move water around in this way to make our way forward. Never ceases to fill me with awe for some reason.

After the gates are open you return to the boat, untie her, and bring her into the lock. Now the fun and tricky bit. You bring the boat to a standstill, grab your windlass if you forgot to leave it at the lock gates and the centre line, and climb the ladder out of the lock. This will involve walking along the gunwhales and stepping onto the ladder before the boat moves too far away. Climb the said ladder to the top.

Loosely secure the centre line and then close the paddles on the downstream lock gates and open the paddles on the upstream end of the lock. Go back and hold the centre line to stop the boat bashing about as the lock fills. When full, open the top lock gates. Step onto the boat with the centre line. Remember, the boat has risen with the filling of the lock. Take her out of the lock, moor and tie up, close the lock gates and lower the paddles. Get back on the boat after casting off and pushing the bow of the boat out into the canal. Feel a sense of accomplishment, and hope you are not in a hurry.

Two people on the boat speeds things up considerably, but the poor land lubber who opens the locks and closes them does the lions share of the work and it is hard to help them. You may be able to close the lock gate that you have just entered while they go to the paddles for the top of the lock but that is about it. So when you are on a flight you switch off after two or three locks. With a bit of luck you can go to the next lock while yours is filling and get it ready so that when you come out of one lock you can go straight into the next. We did that on the Caen Hill flight yesterday, but we had help, two, and sometimes three volunteers. From lock 50 down to 29 on the main flight, but I missed a picture of lock 50. There were 6 or 7 locks before and the same after which we shared with another boat, so a much easier day than it could have been. We then went to the Caen Hill Marina, had showers, did laundry and had a lovely dinner of smoked cod, which we can’t get in Canada. Here are the pictures. Lots of them!

Thanks to a lot of volunteer help. We travelled 2.5 miles that day. They give their time three days a week to open and close locks and were full of lots of good tips on boat handling, protecting locks from damage etc. And they pass it all along in conversation and asides so you don’t feel like a complete idiot for not knowing. Well done. The weather was stunning. Had to change into a skort, tee shirt and sandals for the afternoon, and sunscreen. Felt lovely.

Now we are in Bradford on Avon and it is lovely, all soft yellow stone buildings and a great mingling of architecture which I will explore shortly. I now have a list of blog ideas so expect more in the near future. And did you notice that the third vote on May’s Brexit deal failed and she still didn’t resign. Cameron deserted ship, but she seems adamant that she will not go. Even threatens to bring it back for a fourth vote! Do the Brits realize how ludicrous they look to the rest of the world. With apologies to those reading in the U.K. Or should I say, disunited Kingdom. The Queen is giving up driving, but maybe she has to drive Brexit to a finale

It was not unusual for the railway companies to build their railways along side the existing canal, and that is what happened along the Kennet and Avon. Wherever we go, there is the railway, whizzing commuters to their jobs and home again. A parallel world to mine, but one that I have ventured into quite a few times during my time here in England. I have been to London three times by train so far. Because distances here are shorter between towns as compared to Canada, using trains makes a lot more sense than city to city planes or traveling by car. In fact there is great reliance on trains here and great grumblings when there are delays and cancellations that seem all too common. Luckily it has not affected me to this point. The last time up to London was for the Peoples Vote march on Saturday March 23rd.

,Mary volunteered us to hand out leaflets to get people to text that they were present so we were kitted out with tshirts and stickers and leaflets. I now have two new nightshirts. Mary, on the left, Sarah, on the right, a friend from college in 1968, and Suzie, likewise a friend from college, and I, did it together.

It was quite surreal walking through some of the poshest real estate in London, The Ritz, St. James Palace, where the Queen Mother lived, Pall Mall, on a protest march. The mood was very low key, didn’t see a policeman or policewoman all day except when they were accompanying the Horse Guard Parade. Lots of kids, and dogs, which I would have left at home, poor things. The excitement began on the bus from south east London when it was clear that there were people like us going to the march. It grew on the tube as more people were clearly going, and when we got out of the tube (subway) the place was packed with people streaming to the starting point.

I don’t think I have marched with 1 million people before! It really seems like the Tories are holding on as tightly as possible to get their Brexit through, but the mood is changing. People are fed up with the machinations and want to turn their attention to other issues, and are beginning to feel that they will be less well off under Brexit. They are twisting this way and that, now taking over the order sheet in Parliament to get other options voted on and Theresa May, bless her, is like a Jack Russell terrier with a bone. She will not give up but has no credibility at all. They all look like a bunch of jack assess to me. Hopefully, if they have a second vote it will be more decisive.

Moving on……

Spring is a leisurely season in England, unlike our speeded up version in southern Ontario where one week you turn off the heat, and the next turn on the air conditioning. We had snow drops in January, then crocus, and then an extended daffodil time, saw some today. Haven’t seen any tulips but the forsythia is now in bloom and the magnolia, and the fruit trees. And the green buds on the trees are getting greener every day. There are no sheep around the Kennet and Avon Canal so I am not seeing any more lambs unfortunately. We were seeing lots of male mallards chasing female mallards on the canal, but now only the males are around. Took me a bit to realize that the females are sitting on the nests. Will see the chicks soon. The spring is unfolding in its own sweet time and according to it’s own rhythm.

This trip keeps on bringing me back to a mental theme I have running in my head. How many of us actually consciously choose where we live, and how many fall into it. Falling into it can encompass any number of reasons. It is where we grew up, it is where the job is, or the partner. Or is seemed like a good idea at the time. When I was teaching at Centennial College on the border of Scarborough and Ajax on the eastern edge of Toronto I was always surprised at the number of students who had never considered moving any where else. Not even into Toronto, which seemed big and overwhelming to many of them, but was just down the road, or trainline, or subway. I arrived in Toronto for one year when I was 19, and have now been there for 42 years. The laws changed during the first year and allowed me to claim Canadian Citizenship through my Mom who was born in Toronto but married in England. Prior to Pierre Trudeau and his government in 1977 only the children of male Canadians living abroad could claim citizenship. He leveled the playing field. Mom, a proud Canadian, was all over it. She got citizenship lined up for all her 5 children. Sally was presented hers by Paul Martin Sr. who was the minister that drafted the law. It was in Durham Town Hall (see previous posts for pictures of Durham’s Town Hall). Mom heard that he was going to be in town and got it arranged. So Sally got her Canadian citizenship in Durham Town Hall. He said that although he had had a hand in the law it was the first time he had officiated at a ceremony. I was already living in Canada so it meant that I did not have to leave at the end of my intended one year. So I fell into Toronto. Wherever I travel the thing that stands out for me is that people are just getting on with their lives. Going to work, making a comfortable home, seeing friends and family, participating in their communities. And there are so so so many places to live. I would love it if we all really consciously chose where we wanted to live. Canada is a land of immigrants, and first nations people. The college that I taught in was the most multicultural college in Toronto. It was touted that over 80 languages were spoken there. Many were there as children of people who came to Canada for a better life for their children, others were international students. International students are a form of immigration.

The students pay amazingly high fees, three times the Canadian fees, because there is no government subsidy. After they have completed their studies they can work in Canada for a period of time, and many use that time to apply for residency. Canada has it made. They get Canadian trained young professionals as new immigrants who can get gainful employment. Quite a neat trick. Canada is not the only country doing this of course, many do, including England. In countries with falling birthrates, such as Canada, new immigrants are needed to keep the economy going, and to help pay for our retirement by paying taxes into the system. I finally saw a narrowboat with a black crew the other day. London is pretty multi-cultural, and there are lots of eastern Europeans here, but it is pretty bland overall in comparison to Toronto.

As I was teaching the above students I never ceased to be amazed at their courage. Young men, but also young women, traveling half way round the world from places like China, India, South Korea starting new lives in Canada. Some had family, but that is not always a good fit. Some not. I also taught students that were in Canada to escape the events happening in their own country. I had one student who was born in one country and her family fled to another in south east asia. I don’t remember the details, but they had a different calendar. She had no original papers, and did not know what her birthday was in the new calendar. I think she was maybe 5 feet tall, and petit, and finding her way on her own in Canada. She looked just like any other student in the college, but like so many, just under the surface there was a whole different story.

Our pub tonight, The Golden Swan in Wilcot. My first thatched pub. Stayed for dinner, Beef and Stilton Pie with mash and veg. Yum, and nowhere near weight watchers ideal.

The Kennet and Avon is another kettle of fish. https://www.phrases.org.uk/meanings/kettle-of-fish.html

The Kennet is the river at the east end of “the cut”, the canal is in the middle, and the Avon is at the west end, entering the sea at Avonmouth, near Bristol. It is one of the earliest canals, begun in the early 1700’s

Swing bridges and lift bridges are liberally interspersed between the locks and take us by surprise. We are so used to looking at the vertical V on the maps that we miss the bridges that need opening. Then there is the joy of an opening bridge next to a lock, so both have to be operated at once. Oh, what power, to stop traffic for a narrowboat! We are still on the River Kennet portion, and we are not used to both banks being pretty difficult to moor on as they are river banks, not canal banks. And the locks are very different. They are older, i.e. it has been longer since they have been updated, and often “clunky” and difficult to open. But we persevere. I think we are both pretty tired, and our bodies are achy. I am trying to find a local massage therapist but no success so far. For those of you reading this who are MTs, or in related fields, my lats are screaming bi-laterally, and the insertion of my left deltoid complains every time I have to throw a mooring line. I think it was the intense weeks earlier when we did about a hundred locks a week. As much as I worked out at Sally’s gym I did not do enough arm work, and after all my leg work, my quads and hamstrings are still pretty pathetic. Again, glad I am doing this now, not in 10 years. But the weather has improved. Now it is sunny in the morning then clouds over. My dad used to say “too bright, too early”, meaning that it would not last if it was too sunny too early in the day. But there is no rain, and no wind, so all is good.

Mary and I are sitting in the Rowbarge Pub. We came in for a drink and have just had dinner. Crab and mussel linguine for me, fish pie for Mary. Two nights ago in Reading we went to the Fishermans Cottage.

It was lovely, we sat by a fire, not lit, but still comfy chairs, and worked on our computers as we are now. Separately, doing our own thing. No comments from the peanut gallery please. Apparently Reading became a Canadian destination because of the references to Reading on the CBC. So that might account for the Canadian Flag on the wall behind the bar. Find it if you can.

As much as I am enjoying these pubs they are not the pubs of my youth. They had two main drinking areas, the bar, where men drank, and where women would be looked at askance if they walked in, and the lounge, where men took their dates. Or where groups gathered, as we did, to socialize, and decide where to go to next. Drinking habits have changed. Now men do not go out right after work or right after dinner to prop up the bar waxing lyrical with their mates as much as they used to. Now couples socialize together, maybe except Friday night in the northeast of England, so the pubs have had to change to survive. The four pubs we went to in Durham are now more unusual than usual. Now to survive they offer food as well as a vast variety of drinks including cask ales. Gone are the terrible beers of old. It is an amazing transformation, and shows the ability to move with the times to survive.

Ok, back to the canals. We have been in scalloped brick locks! Very odd, and yesterday one that looked like a skeleton.

The Kennet and Avon is a bit different. Next is going to be one that is lined with sod, not a solid wall. When we reach the height of the locks in Bath it will be 19 plus feet deep. I am hoping that they have proper bridges, not walking over the lock gates. We did a 4 meter deep one in the height of a wind storm on the Oxford Canal. There were bushes in the way. I was not happy, having a fear of heights.

We have passed so many boats that are clearly live aboards. I hazard to guess that upscale live aboards live in Marinas. They have access to showers, laundry facilities, cafes and pubs. Permanent electrical hook up, so likely toasters, coffee makers and microwaves. They look after their narrowboats, don’t want to scratch the paint work. You get the picture. Then there are are canal side live aboards. Some are in official moorings. Private land on the non-towpath side of the canal that they pay a fee to use. Some are lovely, well developed sites that they take pride in. Others seemed abandoned. I wonder what the Canal and River Trust do with those boats? It has become a habit to look for the license in the windows of the boats, and some are non-existant. Then there are the live aboards that are constant crusiers, they have to move every few weeks. They are a motley crew. Some are clearly women, some are clearly men (you can challenge me on my assumptions). Some are quite posh, others not so much. But all seem very friendly, and we have been helped out by a few of them. I think I will be relying on them when I am single handing in a few weeks. It is a very varied world that I am enjoying observing. As I say again, a microcosm of society, reproduced everywhere. We come in all shapes and sizes.

I feel so privileged to be able to do this. I bought real estate that grew exponentially in value and I loved every day of living there. I diversified and bought investment properties that I hope will show profit in the end. In the mean time they are a bit of a financial risk, but life is risky. So I have worked the system to the best of my ability, and now I am here. I could be in a class room at Centennial College and I am very happy that I am not. I did my time and now I have moved on.

TTC, total topic change.

When I was a kid and Dad had to cut the lawn we had a running joke about him cutting the heads off the lawn diasies, and dandylions. I loved those daisies, the only form of diasy that I like. And I weeped for every one that went under the blade. So seeing them here is lovely. I have tried to grow them in Canada to no avail. So I am enjoying them immensely. It is amazing how the small pleasures of life re-occur.

Further TTC. We had a lovely visit with my first cousin once removed, Wendy Oakden. She said she would send me the pictures she took. She works at Sick Kids in Toronto, but is collaborating with a project in Poland and had a friend in Oxford that she was visiting. They came down to Reading from Oxford for the morning. We went through a lock and cruised down the canal a bit before they had to leave for the train. Dan had afternoon meetings. We had a lovely time together and I am so glad they came. Dan’s dad built trawlers in Tasmania, so had some boat smarts which was great and made for a comfortable lock and mooring experience. It is a rich life here on the canal.

The weather in February was atypical and glorious, but March is being absolutely normal. Cold(ish), rainy and very windy. So the picture above is me dressed for the weather. Under my jacket I have a further four layers of clothes, wind pants as well as fleece lined pants and foot warmers in my boots! Just as much work as dressing for a dog walk in Canada!

My sister Mary and I have been making our way south. Together we left the Grand Junction Canal and turned south onto the Oxford Canal. As we neared Oxford we stopped for all the usual maintenance items, water, diesel, calor gas (propane) and emptied the toilet. We were all set to leave when it became apparent we had no forward movement, just reverse. Back to the dock. Luckily we had stopped at Oxfordshire Narrowboats and they had a mechanic who spent the next few hours replacing our gear cable. He was busy getting their boats ready for the coming weekend but took time to repair Little Star which I really appreciated. So off we set again, only to discover that our tiller arm was at a strange angle and making clunking sounds. It quickly made an amazing huge clunking sound and went back to almost normal. Stopped into another marine company in Oxford who checked it over. So on we went, in the rain, to try and get onto the Thames.

We arrived at the first lock on the Thames to find no lock keeper on duty. We had been told that we needed a special license to be on the Thames, and that we would need a special key, so what to do. Called the Environmental Agency that is in charge of the Thames and what goes on on it, and they said he was at lunch and would be back in an hour. It appeared we had just missed him. Waited the hour, he didn’t come back. Called again and was told he was not on duty that day. Don’t you just love it when the left hand doesn’t know what the right hand is doing! After being insistent, politely, I was helped through the lock by the lock keeper at the next lock. It, the electric lock controls, were tetchy in the rain. So we were on our way a couple of hours later. We were trying to get as far down the Thames as we could before the caution signs were put in place due to rising water. Yesterday we made it to Abingdon and today we had to stay in place. Had to call to confirm because the web site said we were good to go, but I didn’t believe it, and sure enough, the water was rising. Luckily Abingdon is a decent size town with some interesting buildings and stores, so food has been restocked.

Spring is beginning to really make an appearance, daffodils everywhere, and lambs.

There are lots of trees in flower, may have already posted this picture:

The first tree to show green tips has been the weeping willow. This one is huge and spreading, just across the water from where we are presently moored. We have seen some very tall ones gracefully swaying in the wind. Ah, yes, back to the wind. Yesterday was very interesting, trying to turn the boat and moor facing upstream. The standard way is to tie the bow line and either use the wind or your engine to move around the stationary point of the bow. All was going well, but the wind put way too much strain on the rope and two of the three strands broke, but we managed to get tied up. Unfortunately, there was a ledge under which out gunwales sat and the fenders did not prevent the boat from banging against the mooring, so it was an unpleasant night, and I was worried for the boat. Today, a boating neighbour drove us to a marine store and we bought bigger fenders so now we have four regular narrowboat fenders, and two balloon ones. And a new mooring line. Never a dull moment on Little Star!

It never ceases to amaze me where plant life thrives.

If the plants could think I wonder if they would say “why did I have to land here?”

The help we have received from all and sundry along the canal has gone a long way to restoring my belief in the goodness of humanity. I have found “the cut” to be a very welcoming place, and it is one long lending library. People leave books in marina laundry rooms, in Canal and River Trust toilets and any other convenient place, including pubs canalside. You can choose what ever you want and leave your finished books, or DVDs, and some CDs. Unfortunately I almost exclusively listen to books but others on the boat have taken advantage of the service and I have picked up a DVD or two. There is a DVD player on the TV on board. And I finally have a good radio. Did my first deal in a pawnbrokers and sold them the cd/radio I bought which was pretty useless and bought a digital radio. Now I can listen to all the Brexit nonsense which seems interminable. They have now voted to say that they can’t leave the EU without a deal. Inching towards a new referendum I think, but I have been wrong before. Theresa May is hanging on for all she is worth.

This morning we woke to high wind. Clouds are scudding across the sky in a hell of a hurry. So we are staying put until about noon when the BBC weather apps says the wind will drop. Little Star is a lighter boat, specifically recommended for me to be able to handle her on my own, but she is pushed around a lot by wind. I now try to have the next lock gate open before leaving the previous lock when going up or down a flight so that the wind can not push the boat around while waiting for the gate to open. I hope that makes sense.

Life on board a narrowboat highlights managing the basic necessities of life. The boat has to be fed and watered, and so do I and my rotating crew. The Nicholson guide is studied in detail to identify where the next diesel stop is, next water point, next toilet emptying station, and next food store and canal side pub. All of these activities take time to accomplish, so that has to be figured into the day, and how much time it will take away from traveling along the canal. A bit of a balancing act, especially when you add in other activities, such as looking around a town, and in Banbury, visiting Banbury Cross

Ride a cock horse to Banbury Cross, To see a fine lady upon a white horse, With rings on her fingers and bells on her toes, She shall have music wherever she goes.

Had to be done, this a well known nursery rhyme from my childhood. Not sure if it is known in Canada and elsewhere.

Also in Banbury is Tooleys Boatyard. Tooleys refitted the Cressy for Tom Rolt to live on with his wife. They went on a canal journey for their honeymoon in 1939. He wrote about it in his book “Narrowboat”, published in 1944 and is credited with beginning the revival of interest in canals. They were beginning to fall into disrepair because they were no longer being used to carry goods to ports and markets, although they did have a resurgence during the second world war. A canal version of Land Girls worked on them.

Canals sprang up in the late 1700’s, although there had been transport by water before that along rivers and small canals. There was a need to get the industrial revolutions products to their markets, and to get coal to the industrial centers of the country to manufacture those goods. Roads were not paved and the horse drawn carriages with heavy loads were very destructive. Canals were a solution. No environmental assessments then, they were built by people with money hoping to make more money. Competing companies built competing canals and the network was born. However, it was quickly super-ceded by the railway, which was much faster than the top rate of speed on a canal, 4 or 5 mph. Canal companies merged, and some were bought by railway companies with the sole purpose of shutting them down. Now of course, to some degree, railways have been super-ceded by trucks on roads. I can’t help but think about the oil pipelines which big oil companies want to build in Canada and the U.S. Environmental assessments are being challenged and Indigenous people not consulted about their land rights. All for an industry whose end is just over the horizon as we develop more and more renewable energy.

We are presently on the Oxford Canal, which winds and winds its way around the countryside. It is called a contour canal because it follow the contours of the land rather than using locks to lift it up and lower it over rises. There was a move to fill it in when Tom Rolt’s book was published and the revival began. I am beginning to think that the second life of the canals will be longer lived and create more income from those that supply the needs of canal dwellers, either live aboards or holiday makers than the original use of the canals did. Chandlers, boat builders and restorers, marinas, narrowboat rentals, narrowboat sales and resales, canal side pubs and supermarkets, and all the towns and tourist attractions along the way are generating jobs and boosting the local economy, and providing some wonderful experiences for those on the canals. Including all the volunteers who have formed charitable foundations to restore and maintain canals and who give hours of their time in a myriad of ways. Including opening and closing locks during the summer months at busy points along the way. I can’t wait for that if I am on my own! It will make my life so easy!

I have never been to Disneyland, Graceland, Dollywood, The Epcot Centre, or Marine Land, and now I have never been to Cadbury World. Although I got close, the Cadbury store where you exit into the gift store from the attraction. Cadbury World became a focus as Katherine and I made our way around the west and south of Birmingham, including navigating the Severn, going up the Droitwich Canal which included a whole day of progressing through 32 locks and the next day with no locks at all but including three tunnels. Two were 500 or so meters, one was 2500 meters. Yes, 2.5km. It is kind of weird to go underground for that distance. I know it is safe, but I really felt the weight of the land above me!

What I was more interested in was Bourneville itself. The Cadbury family were devout Quakers and were early social justice champions, particularly George Cadbury. When he was able he had the village of Bourneville built for the Cadbury workers. It was during the Arts and Crafts period and the houses and community buildings reflect that style, which I am particularly attracted to. There is a community building named for Ruskin, one of the founders of the Arts and Crafts movement. Simple but elegant design. Hopefully more Arts and Crafts later in my narrowboat travels.

The village is a thriving community, beginning to turn its attention to senior housing. George Cadbury was one of a few industrialists who cared about his workers. Most improvements were wrought by the formation of trade unions, but my bias is showing.

It is a pretty village and reminded me of an upscale Bain Co-op in Toronto, which is also in the Arts and Crafts style.

We checked out the store, bought chocolate, and then looked around the village. Our plan was to do Cadbury World the next day, but decided it was not worth it as we would not see the actual chocolate production.

We have been so lucky with weather the last two weeks, very sunny and warm. In Droitwich the other day the Rosemary was already in bloom

Since leaving Bourneville (they named a chocolate bar after the village, my favourite when I was a kid, the Bourneville bar was dark chocolate) we travelled along the Stratford on Avon canal. Sounds posh doesn’t it? Well, it is not. It goes along the south side of Birmingham and was full of garbage, all kinds of it, including a 5 gallon plastic container spewing oil. Jammed up the propeller. No fun cleaning that out, then today the canal became really shallow and it was hard to navigate and move forward. Then 20 more locks. You never know what you will experience on the canals. The day we did the Tardebigge flight of 32 locks there were all kinds of people on the canal. Lots of parents with kids and grandparents with grandkids, which we had been seeing all week as it was half-term. Parents really enjoyed explaining what was happening as we opened and closed locks, filled them with water and moved higher up the flight. And they lent a hand . Today we were largely on our own and both the paddles (what you lift to let the water in or out), and the single gates were really heavy. It was quite a workout.

I have been on the canal for more than three weeks now and have not travelled nearly as far as I thought I would in this time. Katherine and I are getting close to Warwick in the midlands. I had thought I would be down by Heathrow by now able to drop her off there. As it is she will be taking a bus to Heathrow

It has been an intersting time. The canal is a microcosim of society of course, so there are all kinds of people on the canal, although almost exclusively white. I am glad that I am doing this five month adventure now, not 10 years from now. Narrowboat life is becoming very popular with arable land being converted to marinas. The boats come in all shapes and sizes and colours. We pass many that have permanant moorings and I can’t help feel that most of them look pretty forlorn. They provide a cheap place to live, but they begin to look un-loved. Leaves and other debris collecting on them, moss on the bumpers, needing a coat of paint and reblacked on the hull, and generally looking a bit sad. Maybe I am judging them to harshly, but it has cured me of ever wanting to live on a moored boat anywhere. Then of course there are the houseproud boat owners that keep them ship shape and everything in between. There is a growing number of boats in general, I wonder if they will have to limit the number some time in the future.

On the other hand, everyone is very helpful, always willing to lend a hand, and many of the people who walk along the canal, inevitably walking their dog, also seem to have experience being on a boat and offer good answers to questions.

One thing that really stands out is the smell of coal smoke. Definetely a smell from my childhood. I grew up in a modern house, built in 1957, but it’s only source of heat was an open coal fire in the living room. It was a four bedroom, four room downstairs house. Mom could not wait to get central heating, which we did in the mid-sixties, so that she would not have to make a coal fire every day of the fall, winter and spring.

Many boats have wood and coal burners, with coal seeming to dominate. Britain is yet again trying to crack down and discourge people from using coal fires for heat. Anyone who has watched The Crown will know the diastrous results of coal smoke pollution in London and it was banned there for many years. London smog killed. So I have a complicated relationship with the smell, but overall it is not pleasant. Certainly not as attractive as a wood smoke.

Already people are noticing that Little Star is a long way from home. They express suprise when they ask how long I have been travelling and it is a conversation opener. I can only imagine what the reaction will be when I am in Bath or Bristol, just about the furthest away from Nantwich in Cheshire that I can get! I do detect a bit of envy. I feel a bit like a snail, carrying my home around with me and I love it. I haven’t had to go through a lock single handed yet, that will probably happen in April, may try a practice one with my sister Mary on board in March. As a fellow traveller said, they loose their novelty when you are on your own.

The British have a habit, quaint?, twee?, of naming their homes even if they have a street address. Here the builder did it for them. Some do not have a street address, my sisters The Croft, my brothers Cayhill Cottage, so it makes sense to have a name, but otherwise……