A Meandering Mann

Thoughts, quirky insights and experiences in my meandering life.

The Magna Carta: The beginning of the end of absolute monarchs in Britain

Curiously erected by the American Bar Association

Magna Carta Libertatum (Medieval Latin for “the Great Charter of the Liberties”) [wikipedia] The Magna Carta, signed by King John on June 15, 1215 at Runnymede on the bank of the River Thames curtailed the power of the king and made him subject to the rule of law. He was pressured into signing it to prevent civil war. He was a deeply unpopular king. Great Britain does not have a constitution as Canada and the US have, it has a collection of documents and laws which outline the rights and responsibilities of citizens. Of course in the beginning these liberties were for the nobles, and have gradually come to include women and other “minorities” Not sure how 50% of the population can be a minority, but we certainly were under the law.

Another iteration of the Magna Carta, coming into our lock!

When I was studying Tudor history for my “O” levels, think Owls in the Harry Potter series, Thomas More made a deep impression on me. He advocated for freedom of speech. From https://englishhistory.net/tudor/citizens/sir-thomas-more/: In April 1523, he was elected speaker of the House of Commons. His position at court meant that he was to be the king’s advocate before parliament. But to More’s credit, he made an impassioned plea for greater freedom of speech in parliament. Such was his reputation that the the great universities – Oxford and Cambridge – made him high steward.

Sadly it did not prevent Henry VIII from beheading him when he refused to take the Oath of Supremacy confirming the King as the head of the Church of England. Thomas More was a devout Catholic. Henry hounded his Lord Chancellor Wolsey to death and beheaded both More and Cromwell after they had taken the job. It is a wonder that anyone was willing to take it on.

Today, as we cruised up the Thames towards Brentford and the Grand Union Canal we passed Syon House. Ironically it is the house in which Catherine Howard was housed before her execution by Henry VIII for adultery in 1541, but also the house that Henry’s body was lodged on the journey to his funeral in St. George’s Chapel, Windsor. His coffin burst open and dogs were found eating his body. The twists and turns of history.

Coming beside us in the lock

It has made me interested in finding out more about the formation of our constitutional history.

Yesterday we passed Windsor Castle, and you can see from the flag flying that the queen was in residence, it was Good Friday. I think that a plane went over the castle about once every 30 seconds

Windsor Castle and plane

Monarch liked to travel up and down the Thames to get to their castles, and today we passed Hampton Court. Built by Thomas Wolsey, Lord Chancellor of England and a papal Cardinal (talk about divided loyalties) he was bullied into giving it to Henry VIII as he was descending in power. If you have a chance to tour the Tudor kitchens it is worth the price of entry. Until recently it also housed minor royals who had fallen on hard times

Tudor Hampton Court
Georgian Hampton Court and the Magna Carta, again

Not just royals like living beside the Thames. It is a favourite of the 1% as well:

You get the picture

But we did also see more human scale homes for us ordinary folk, and some of them even looked affordable on a regular salary

New definition of a container ship.
Claims to be the worlds friendliest pub for dogs. There was a dog at nearly every table on the patio.

I have thoroughly enjoyed the last few days of cruising down the Thames with my sister Jane. It is wide, so it is difficult to bump into anything and easier to take pictures at the helm. It is a bit faster than the canal because you have to go just a bit faster than the river. The locks are all manned, or womanned, so all we had to do was hold onto the lines as the boat went down into the lock. However, finding a place to moor up was a little bit challenging. You turn in the river so that you are going up stream and hope that the place you saw is actually a mooring spot. One night we became quite grounded. However, we went up a bit and moored outside the above pub. Quite lovely. It was a hot day and we were able to have a meal outside overlooking the river.

Mistletoe not nests in the trees of Windsor Park. It is a parasite.
Delicious blue stilton. 220 grams, less than $3

The difference in prices for commodities between Canada and England are interesting. Here cheese is very cheap, but anything to do with energy, such as gas, electricity, and things that consume a lot of energy are expensive. The laundry is about $10 per load for wash and dry. Food in pubs and restaurants is more expensive, but the wages of the staff reflect the fact that tipping is not expected, and never more than 12%. Taxes are included in the price. So it is easy to see what you are spending. In contrast to Canada where you add 13% tax, and then up to 20% tip to the cost of each item. I think it works out about the same.

Last but not least, Jane and I went to the River and Rowing Museum appropriately situated in Henley on Thames. Part of the museum talked about the flotilla of boats that went to Dunkirk to save the servicemen on the beaches. The following is a quote from the 1600’s that still applies today.

A potted history of Georgian Architecture in Bath

The road is an addition for our obsession with cars.

Bath is very easy on the eyes. Bath stone, limestone I have discovered, is a lovely creamy colour and when every building is the same colour is makes for a soothing architectural background to the city. Not only is every building the same colour, but there are dramatic building facades which makes for a very cohesive “look” to the city. This did not happen by accident.

The attraction of Bath as a city to “take the waters” for such ailments as gout, melancholy and everything in between really got going in the early Georgian era, i.e. early 1700’s, and of course the city had to expand to meet the accommodation needs of the increased number of bathers. As sometimes happily happens the right people were in the right place at the right time to create a city that has been designated a World Heritage Site en mass.

John Wood was one of those people, and the story goes like this. This was the age of enlightenment. Which means that people, substitute men, were exploring the natural world, and taking the Grand Tour. A bit like a gap year. Those young men became enamoured of ancient Greece and Rome and desired to reproduce that esthetic in Britain. Bath was expanding rapidly and John Wood bought properties and then designed classical facades such as the span of the Royal Crescent. Then he did that peculiar English thing of creating 99 year land leases of the land behind the facade, all divided into separate lots. These lots were available for speculative builders to acquire and build a house. So the frontage is a unified design but the back is the creation of each individual builder, building next to each other. Clever. Then they sold the building and land lease.

The Circle.

The result is a lovely facade, but a real jumble behind. There was a great demand for short term rentals so many were a kind of boarding house, offering everything from rooms to suites to floors, depending on whether you were pseudo gentry or the real thing. Apparently they are a real mixed bag of design and construction. Sadly, I did not look behind the buildings to see what the back looked like. I wish I had. The Circle, above, was designed so that wherever you entered the circle you saw an amazing facade. While at the Architectural Museum in Bath I learned about columns, and came up with the following to keep them in order. DIC D is for Doric, the simplest column, then I for Ionic and C for Corinthian, the most fancy. The relationship between the circumference (or perhaps width), and the height are ingrained in stone, literally. Check them out on Duck Duck Go (not google) to see what they look like.

Pseudo gentry and the real gentry mixed at the Assembly Rooms. Beau Nash was the unofficial Master of Ceremonies from 1704 to 1761.

His position was unofficial, but nevertheless he had extensive influence in the city until early 1761. He would meet new arrivals to Bath and judge whether they were suitable to join the select “Company’ of 500 to 600 people who had pre-booked tables, match ladies with appropriate dancing partners at each ball, pay the musicians at such events, broker marriages, escort unaccompanied wives and regulate gambling (by restraining compulsive gamblers or warning players against risky games or cardsharps). Wikipedia

Which brings me to Jane Austen. Her shrewd observations of human nature were honed during her years in Bath and many of her novels were set there. There is, of course, a Jane Austen centre which I visited. I love her insights into human behaviour and I am tempted to listen to all her books again as I travel the canals. She was the pseudo gentry, a clergyman’s daughter, who, unlike her characters, did not marry. In fact resisted marriage. Not a woman typical of her era where social status was dictated by your marriage. Not a great era for women.

Moving along.

I have been single handing for a few days now, and have enjoyed many aspects of it. I have climbed up from the bottom of a lock with rope and windlass in hand, but I am happy to say that I have not had to climb down into the lock when I have been going “downhill”. Luckily, at every lock there have been people who have helped me through going downhill. Not least the volunteers this morning. Water is low in the Kennet part of the Kennet and Avon Canal, and this morning I was grounded by water flowing out of the pound over night. It seeps through the locks. I went to open the locks then get my boat ungrounded. Lock volunteers showed up and helped me get the bow unstuck, the stern was already free. Then they accompanied me through a number of locks. At each of the succeeding locks there were people who helped me so I could avoid that climb down the ladder. It was not so much the climb that worried me, it was transferring from the ladder to the boat at the bottom, which potentially could be moving around of its own free accord. Phew. Now it is done, and I await the arrival of my sister Jane and her partner Martin tomorrow.

Right now I am in thatched cottage country, in this case, Great Bedwyn. Don’t you love the names? When I was growing up thatched cottages were as far away from my every day reality as Toronto was. They look good, but I hear that the thatch has to be replaced every twenty years. No problem, say north americans, but here tile and slate roofs last for life, that is, life of the building. I have never understood why we use roofing material that has to be replaced every 15 to 20 years in Canada.

Last, but not least, I have to talk about the SUV’s of the canal, the double wides, or broadbeams as they are called.

He said it.

The bow of Wide Boy

Huge and imposing. I am not sure I could easily get into the skin of these boats they seem so big, and the only place I have experienced them so far is on the Kennet and Avon. When they are coming down the canal they are not easy to pass. There is a great risk of going aground. They are not an apartment afloat, they are the whole house.

I have already seen Mallard chicks but could not quite get a picture. Will try again, and the catkins are out. Very chilly nights and mornings, and a chilly breeze, but I couldn’t have been luckier with the weather. It has been a milder than usual winter with lots of sunshine. I do feel very very lucky. Almost half way through my time on Little Star. Can’t quite believe that either.

Not the original White Horse. When does the copy become authentic? Don’t know for sure what the yellow crop is, mustard maybe.
Another bow shot. Late afternoon on April 12th. Gorgeous.

Tea for the Tillerman

How many times have I listened to that album by Cat Stevens and never given a thought to the title. I don’t know what he meant by it, but it has new meaning for me. When you are at the tiller you can not make a cup of tea! Someone else has to make it for you or you have to stop and make one. Tea and diesel are how narrowboats run.

Note the weights on the gates, 3004 kg each!

I left Bath a couple of days ago, and that is another story for later in the post, and I am single handing. Helming Little Star by myself. After two months of experience I finally feel ready for this challenge. It does take a little more preparation, or should I say thought, in the morning to get ready to go. There is no second person to ask to bring the maps to the back because you forgot, or to get the windlass out, or make you a cup of tea.

I was ready to leave Bath in the morning, was psyched for singlehanding. Got everything ready and went to start the boat. It wouldn’t start. Tried a few times but no go. Called Cheshire Cat Narrowboats and had to arrange a call out from RCR (River Craft Rescue?) Brendon arrived at 2.30 pm and began checking things out. Eventually it was revealed that it was the solenoid. Now I own a car, but I don’t particularly want to know how it runs or how to fix it, I just want it to safely get me from A to B. The same applies to boats, but I have been picking things up along the ways. So, from my understanding, a solenoid helps with either turning on or turning off the boat. A replacement is going to be a challenge, so until then a work around was figured out which is not quite as easy as turning off the engine with the key but it works.

Visual interlude, Bath from above. Went to climb a tower but it was closed. This is from a cemetery which will make some people smile.

So I finally got away at 4 pm. Went til 7 ish and had dinner with my nephew Lucien which was lovely.

When you single had you are on the look out for other boats to buddy up with, and the Canal and River Trust do prefer that you go through wide locks two at a time. As I approached the Caen flight at Devizes that is what happened, and we went through 31 locks together, in the rain.

Looking up the main flight. Quite different weather from the way down
Two boats decreases the tossing around that can happen when the water comes in, and the need for a steadying rope.

Now, after I finish this post it is a long pound, the distance between locks. Maybe a swing bridge or two. Been sitting in Cafe Nero, charging up, backing up. That is another post. Time to get going.


Attics and Basements

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:

Obviously I wasn’t on the helm for this one!
Mary was delighted to see two different herons fly around the boat. I haven’t seen that yet.
This was a side canal leading to a small community of boats next to a aqueduct.
From the aqueduct. Yes, someone was swimming on April 1st
Going over the aqueduct, after lunching beside it.
I seem to like bridges framing pictures….

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.

In Trowbridge
Primula growing wild. A favourite of mine
The Snug in a pub was where couples courted, away from prying eyes
Everyone should have a street named after them
Bradford on Avon
Bradford on Avon
Bradford on Avon
Saxon Church, Bradford on Avon
I could live in this house!
The Crescent, Bath Five million per house, pounds that is.
Bath
The Circle, Bath

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

In the Skin of a Narrowboat

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.

Not the Kennet and Avon Canal, just an illustration.

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.

What I called a skeleton lock is actually a turf lock. There are only two left. One is a listed building, yes, building, the other a historic monument.

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.

Leaving a lock, again, not on the Kennet and Avon Canal

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!

Second lock of the flight.

Done and duster.

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

Bradford on Avon

Parallel worlds

The Great Western Railway and the Kennet and Avon Canal

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.

Making sure we have each others contact info

,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.

May skewering the British economy
As Alan would say, “Tell us how you really feel”
Yes, I agree, democracy did not end with the referendum 3 years ago, and the future engraved in stone.
I love that the British tell it like it is.
Placards were left at the Houses of Parliament.

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……

Our mooring in Reading. The Fisherman’s Cottage pub is on the left.

First cousin, once removed, Wendy. She took the following pictures
The canal going through another shopping area, as in Banbury
Don’t know how she does this……
Magnificent magnolia, and backyards backing onto the canal.
Another magnificent weeping willow. Or should I say stately.
Our tiller “emblem”, the Cheshire cat, or facsimile

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.

Going into the Bruce Tunnel

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.

Visual interlude

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.

Leaving the Bruce Tunnel

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.


Oh no, not another one!

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.

Spot the Canadian Flag. Fishermans Cottage

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

Lock, or kitchen curtain?

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.

Daisies

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.

Calling all CBC listeners, what is the story with distances to Reading?

Mary and I have arrived in Reading, after an interesting few days on the Thames. I never did catch the history of the references to the distance from Reading that used to be proclaimed on As It Happens when they did a story based in the UK. Can someone please enlighten me?

Yesterday we had some very special visitors, my nephew Edmund, his wife Laura and their gem of a great nephew, Ruben. He can come aboard anytime, even if he does shake free a bag of thumb tacks.

Dad supervising

It has been an interesting few days as mentioned above. I was in a pub trying to back up my phone, it was pleading with me to do so, when I saw that the caution boards had changed and we were good to go. It was 4.30. Dashed back to the boat and woke Mary from a nap. She was none too happy, but we got underway, lickety split (wonder where that expression comes from). Went two locks down which got us past the area that had been “red boarded” i.e. no movement at all. Phew.

The next morning Mary and I got up early and traveled down to Benson where we had showers on land, started 4 loads of laundry and cooked a meal for our company. There was no hope of a little boat ride as the wind was 40 mph for several hours in the afternoon. Resorted to a walk along the Thames Path, in the wind. You can tell from the above picture that lunch was a success. I don’t know about Ed and Laura, but Mary and I were exhausted at the end of the day!

Today we ploughed on. Less wind, more sun, but still a bite in the air. Three interesting boat maneuvers today, all including turning up stream to land at a mooring, but we made it down the Thames as far as I am going on this trip, and turned onto the Kennet and Avon Canal, went through a lock, moored and had a nap.

One of the locks we passed through was called Mapledurham. How cool is that, linking Canada and Durham

Clearly no one had been by, it was a white board by the time we arrived, not caution yellow.

Most of the Thames locks are transitioning from self-service to full service for the summer season, and this one was completely self service, but often we would start self-service and then the lock keeper would show up. In one instance he had a pair of loppers in his hand, he must have been trimming bushes, and in the other he drove up in a car! Great service though, you just leave the lock and keep on going.

Mapledurham, a private residence, was built in a very early century, 11th? 14th? Old, and has been inhabited by the same family since then, the Blunts.

No public footpath on their land. Apparently it has been used in the film “The Eagle Has Landed” and Morse. Rich people live on the banks of the Thames, as you can expect. I didn’t picture the top rank of houses, but here are some moderately wealthy people’s homes:

Not so rich, but cute.

We spent a couple of days in Abingdon, and visited the museum in the Town Hall. They had an exhibit of posters guilting young men to join the armed forces during the war.

Yikes. What a contradiction these young men faced. Brought up to share, control their temper, be reasonable people, and presented with exhortations to go and fight and kill people. My Dad was one of those people, and it was so against his nature, but he had to do it. I know the reasons why, and I am glad that we live in the world that they fought for in Europe, but what a dilemma, what a choice for those young men, their families and everyone! A friend of the family used to say that the war stole her youth, and her opportunity to go to university.

Abingdon was also the town that manufactured MG’s, but I am not so interested in cars.

It is the slower lane now I hope, although I may be going to London to take part in the march asking for a second Brexit march. What a mess, and what a tenacious woman Theresa May is. A bit like a Jack Russel terrier. She has her teeth well into her deal. Will she get her way? The next few days will tell.

Swans in a feeding frenzy. As usual, the smaller birds loose out and have to wait for the scraps. Who says big doesn’t give an advantage
What the heck are these? They were next to two narrowboats that were painted in camouflage. Reminds me of a good novel I just read, The Great Alone, by Kristin Hannah.

The forgotten picture

Five layers on top, two on the bottom, don’t you love the peaked woollen cap

Trapped on the Thames

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.

I wonder who got to choose these faces, the building designer or the stonemason.

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

So cute, but I do like eating lamb.

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.

A whole world on a lock gate.

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.


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