I really should have taken some pictures but you'll have to use your imagination. I was away from my boat last week during a period of seriously cold weather. A thick rime was coating all the trees, making a beautiful sight but meanwhile, my boat was slowly freezing all the way through. When I finally returned, I noticed icicles had burst out of the ends of the taps in both the kitchen and the bathroom. What I didn't notice straight away was more icicles had exploded out of the sides of all 3 radiators!!
Strangely enough, now that we've had a bit of a thaw, the radiators seem to have miraculously 'healed' themselves and are working again fine. It appears that Braunston Marina did not think to add any anti-freeze to the heating system when they re-filled it, prior to selling me the boat (shame on you! how was I to know?).
The weather forecast is for temperatures to start tumbling again this weekend so I need to sort something out before then as I'll be away for a couple of days and I'd sooner avoid returning to more indoor icicles!
Wednesday, 15 December 2010
Friday, 3 December 2010
Good things
I have an opinion about cars which I'm sure isn't shared by Jeremy Clarkson or Lewis Hamilton or anyone else really. It's how you tell a good car from a bad car and it's this: If other drivers of the same car wave at you when you pass them; it's a good car.
Of course, others would say that's rubbish and it's all about acceleration, handling, engine noise, looks, equipment etc. but in the end all those things are unsatisfying. There's always another car which is a bit faster or more exciting. When drivers wave at each other, it's not just about friendliness, it's because of a shared experience. For me, shared experiences are what life's all about.
In the last week or so we've had snow, ice and freezing temperatures and the best thing about that is it's given everyone a shared experience. So we talk to strangers, exchange stories, boast about who's had most snow and so on. Most of the time we're so disconnected from each other that this just doesn't happen. It's a shame that the shared experiences most people have tend to be bad ones - freezing weather, freak hurricane, banking collapse...
Boaters wave to each other. Not just to be friendly but because they both share a secret, something most people don't know. They are connected because they know the other has been through all the same things, the good and the bad - but mostly the good. I've been living aboard for around a month now and I'm beginning to understand that connection, that camaraderie which boaters have.
Especially when the the weather has been cold enough to freeze a penguin!
My journey back from Braunston to Birmingham took four days and encompassed just about every emotion you can think of. Nervousness, joy, stress, contentment, elation, exhaution, I could go on... Thank you to everyone who contributed: Deborah, Callum, Cubie, Emily, Ian, Anthony, Beth, Syd, Saima, Clare, Pete, Alys, Holiday and especially Jane. I really wouldn't have got here without you.
Of course, others would say that's rubbish and it's all about acceleration, handling, engine noise, looks, equipment etc. but in the end all those things are unsatisfying. There's always another car which is a bit faster or more exciting. When drivers wave at each other, it's not just about friendliness, it's because of a shared experience. For me, shared experiences are what life's all about.
In the last week or so we've had snow, ice and freezing temperatures and the best thing about that is it's given everyone a shared experience. So we talk to strangers, exchange stories, boast about who's had most snow and so on. Most of the time we're so disconnected from each other that this just doesn't happen. It's a shame that the shared experiences most people have tend to be bad ones - freezing weather, freak hurricane, banking collapse...
Boaters wave to each other. Not just to be friendly but because they both share a secret, something most people don't know. They are connected because they know the other has been through all the same things, the good and the bad - but mostly the good. I've been living aboard for around a month now and I'm beginning to understand that connection, that camaraderie which boaters have.
Especially when the the weather has been cold enough to freeze a penguin!
My journey back from Braunston to Birmingham took four days and encompassed just about every emotion you can think of. Nervousness, joy, stress, contentment, elation, exhaution, I could go on... Thank you to everyone who contributed: Deborah, Callum, Cubie, Emily, Ian, Anthony, Beth, Syd, Saima, Clare, Pete, Alys, Holiday and especially Jane. I really wouldn't have got here without you.
Thursday, 4 November 2010
Childhood memories
My parents weren't sailors, or pirates, any or anything else nautical. My grandad worked on the docks and continued to work for shipping companies all his life, but that's not it. The truth is, I have no idea why I've chosen a floating home other than it feels right, it feels exciting. I've always loved being near, or in, water. One of my first childhood memories was a day trip to Broadstairs in Kent. We pulled up by the sea-front, I jumped out of the car and ran straight into the sea, fully clothed.
When I was very young we had a cheap inflatable dingy, the sort you see hanging outside bucket-and-spade shops by the prom. My dad, my sister and me would all cram into it and we would row out from the shore into deep water where I'd fearlessly jump off the side. We soon progressed to a Seahopper folding sailing dingy which could be carried around on a roof-rack. I remember well, fitting the rigging together and zipping up my life-jacket in readiness for another adventure.
We had a family holiday to the Norfolk Broads but I don't remember much about it. My lasting memory of it all was being allowed into pubs. Back in South London at that time, I saw pubs as dangerous, smoky, grown-up places where men went and got drunk, and occassionally had fights. In sleepy Norfolk, pubs were big, bright airy places where you could drink coke and eat fish-fingers and chips, and there were so many of them dotted along the broads.
My first experience of narrowboats was some years later when I was a somewhat surly teenager and we all went along the Avon for a week just before my exams. My mum assured me that I'd have plenty of time to revise along the way (not that I ever did much of that anyway). This time, my over-riding memory was of locks coming up every twenty minutes or so, giving me a neat excuse for not doing any study that week. I was worried before we set off that I'd be bored. In the event, the week flew by, punctuated by my sister falling in the canal and lots more pubs. What is it about pubs and water? I remember being fairly unimpressed by narrowboating that week though. It was like travelling to a holiday and never actually getting there.
Since then, I've come to realise that the journey is the most important thing.
When I was very young we had a cheap inflatable dingy, the sort you see hanging outside bucket-and-spade shops by the prom. My dad, my sister and me would all cram into it and we would row out from the shore into deep water where I'd fearlessly jump off the side. We soon progressed to a Seahopper folding sailing dingy which could be carried around on a roof-rack. I remember well, fitting the rigging together and zipping up my life-jacket in readiness for another adventure.
We had a family holiday to the Norfolk Broads but I don't remember much about it. My lasting memory of it all was being allowed into pubs. Back in South London at that time, I saw pubs as dangerous, smoky, grown-up places where men went and got drunk, and occassionally had fights. In sleepy Norfolk, pubs were big, bright airy places where you could drink coke and eat fish-fingers and chips, and there were so many of them dotted along the broads.
My first experience of narrowboats was some years later when I was a somewhat surly teenager and we all went along the Avon for a week just before my exams. My mum assured me that I'd have plenty of time to revise along the way (not that I ever did much of that anyway). This time, my over-riding memory was of locks coming up every twenty minutes or so, giving me a neat excuse for not doing any study that week. I was worried before we set off that I'd be bored. In the event, the week flew by, punctuated by my sister falling in the canal and lots more pubs. What is it about pubs and water? I remember being fairly unimpressed by narrowboating that week though. It was like travelling to a holiday and never actually getting there.
Since then, I've come to realise that the journey is the most important thing.
Fast-forward to 4th November 2010 and I now own my very own narrowboat. A 55ft cruiser-stern called Beau. Tomorrow morning I'll be setting off from Braunston in Northamptonshire to come all the way back to Birmingham. The journey should take about 3 days, unless things go horribly wrong.
To say my emotions are mixed would something of an understatement. The last time I felt this nervous about something was on the morning of my wedding. I suppose I should console myself with the knowledge that my marriage was as resounding success in some ways (the number of days we didn't split up vastly outnumbered the number of days we did!) There do seem to be a number of parallels here though. I'm sure other people are focused on the event - the ceremony, the reception, the journey, but that's the easy part. The change of life is on-going and the only way I'll know if I can adapt to it is by living it.
Overall, I'm simply massively excited. The last few months have brought about a lot of changes and this is the conclusion to it all. It does feel like a real adventure; not the next 3 days, but the years ahead.
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