Boatbird

So many of my posts are inspired by something I see and subsequently capture on camera. Then I build the words around the image.

The water’s reflective surface adds dimension to almost any subject, not least the good old sunset…

And this was tonight’s glorious gift.

Some might say I have done this subject to death but such scenes never fail to mesmerise and fill me with wonder. I have been known, on several occasions, to pull off the road if driving (I’d crash otherwise) or steer into the bank if boating, to watch the sun go down.

This particular shot was made up of half a dozen overlapping snaps that were ‘stitched’ together in order to reproduce this glorious panorama.

Sunsets over the water are often stunning,  but almost surpassed by those of the Fens where those big skies make for truly spectacular visual treats…

Lovely farmyard scene, courtesy of John boy.

And I like the inclusion of the weather vane on top of the shed in this one…

Looks good in silhouette.

It’s not only the river that’s being reflective though, it’s me too. You may have spotted that all by yourself. Can’t help it I’m afraid – time of year. But more of that another time.

Haven’t been up to much, not a lot to write about here anyway, so this may be a shorter than usual post.

Just preparing for the winter – like we do – making sure the coal mountain doesn’t turn into a molehill, plenty of spare gas in the right place and finally getting around to packing away summer and digging out the winter woollies.

So anything remotely flimsy and incapable of doubling as a layer of warmth [and certainly the shorts] has been consigned to a few months holiday under my bed.

Had two new car tyres fitted but still need to check on the anti-freeze – both car and boat. Must also top up Hobo’s diesel tank to ward off the fuel bug and make sure the new deck terrace is anti-slip.

I am tirelessly trying to time my shopping so as not to coincide with those people that do Christmas big-time but this at time of year that’s always a fail.

Lucky for me, I live and move within a place full of pictures that beg to be taken – the unexpected, the beautiful, the colourful, the unusual… A houseboat with no engine, propelled by pole. Truly life in the slow lane.

And the amusing…

Until I come to clean the roof that is. I don’t often get to see this – I usually hear it from inside the boat and put the picture together in my head.

It is, as someone once said, the biggest garden in the world. Ever-changing.

All year round…Even at night…

I look forward to whatever brilliant photo opportunities pop up this coming season – maybe some with a South African flavour (albeit it taken by proxy) and to turning them into some writing for me and a bit of a read for you.

We took a ride over another one. A big, important one.

Remember this ?

We said we would do it.

The cable car over the Thames…Here we go…So pretty at night…And that’s where we land…Except we did the round trip.

Only takes about six minutes in total, no queues and £6.40 return (with Oyster card).

Very pleasant.

A couple of drinks by the river afterwards rounded our day in town off nicely, having earlier visited the British Museum along with TJ and Uncle Mike. We kept him on a lead this time so couldn’t lose him – you’ll know what I mean if you read the earlier link.

We we saw a lot of this…

And this…This…Am liking the dogs.

Could this be the first gay man…?Rosetta Stone…Interesting stuff but far more than one can do in a day. It never ceases to amaze me how much time is spent getting about in the city – don’t get me wrong, it’s fun – and I particularly liked the Docklands Light Railway ( a first for me) and the view it gives of Limehouse Basin.

To misquote someone or another… ‘You can take the girl out of the boat but you can’t take the boat out of the girl’.

So we’ll just have to go back. Maybe take in a show – I vote we go to see Stomp.

Always wanted to. Tis on the list.

Train back to Dagenham, where Mike lives, and then on to a pub that served food until 11pm – can you believe that? As it was by this time gone 9, and we weary travellers all starving, it was a great find.

The first pub we tried had packed up food early but a couple of locals (brilliant characters – Irish) pointed us in the right direction.

Meals and service all good, so thank you gents.

And thanks to Mike and TJ too who, as well as steering us safely through the London Underground between them, also treated John and me to supper.

Nice one boys.

Too good to be true wasn’t it..

BB waxing lyrical about the new mooring position. Serves me right. A week down the line and am told by the powers that be… “You can’t stay there”.

Bugger.

After a scrap in the car park calm, controlled conversation with she who must be obeyed (The Farm Owner), several points were agreed.

* The white cruiser would be moved to the ‘council end’.

* A 20ft narrowboat would be brought back to replace said plastic.

* Hobo could sit in space remaining and wood/scaffold poles/clamps were available for jetty building.

Having paced it all out – again – John decided this would work and only went and offered to move all the boats about, volunteering BB and Hobo for tug services.

Firstly, the little cruiser was towed behind Hobo and dropped off up the other end. I must confess to a perverse kind of pleasure in getting this particular craft out of my immediate vicinity and seemed fitting that Hobo was the one to have done this.

Then we carried on up river to a point where we could turn Hobo about and back again, taking in a little Autumn colour on the way…

to pick up the short narrow.

We decided that breasting up was the best towing option this time and once strung together… we headed back to the allotted spot…

under close supervision…So we behaved. Naturally.

Boats untied from each other, little boat secured and then.. Yay! Still enough room for Hobo. So far so good.

Sadly, boarding was going to be a pain once more. Back to walking the plank…

Yes, by now the old rotten jetty had been ripped up and recycled so my long awaited new one was now urgent.

And, lucky me, the very next weekend John and GI Joe come to the rescue…They get some valuable advice from my pop-up neighbour…What a super day for it – just look at that sunshine..!!

Joe gets physical…and busy…Bit worried about John though…

Looks like narcolepsy to me…On the other hand, it could be fatigue or hunger so BB got busy with the bread and the bacon and kept the cups of tea and lucozade coming. Or it could just be acute boredom.

You decide..

Joking aside, they both worked like n*gg**s.

But I can’t say that word.

Getting there…Cute little 20 footer isn’t it? And much easier on the eye than a neglected old cruiser.

Before you know it…I have a jetty – no it’s a deck. Hell it’s a dance floor..!!

You will have noticed that I am back under that wonky tree. Oh well, what’s the worst that can happen..?

I am delighted. This has surpassed all my expectations. Thank you men, ever so.

Another session is planned to finish off – daylight hours being a bit precious – I am to have a gas/coal/wood store too. Never bin such times.

I did a bit of titivating today…Just need to add some winter colour to those pots now.

Table and chairs..? Patio heater..? Rocking chair..?

The possibilities are endless.

Cue for a song. Another one.

On reading my previous (miserable) post, a friend said “things can only get better” – think New Labour battle song – and I am happy to report that they did. More than one can say for the new labour years.

John responded to my distress call (waking up in tears just isn’t me) and pitched up with Joe (ex US marine with muscles and a thoroughly nice guy) around mid morning on Monday to put Hobo and me in a better place. Physically for Hobo and mentally for me. I think another day on the tilt and without the views I normally enjoy would have seen me rubbing poo in my hair, self-harming in some way or possibly picking a fight with one of the rare breeds that live hereabouts…No of course I don’t mean the neighbours. BB is not like that.

I don’t care if what they both really wanted was a boat ride, it was well worth it.  A boat ride is always good, even though it was raining and, in this case, stage one in my recovery and gradual return to feeling like the old me.

We donned our wet weather gear and paced the riverbank in an attempt to work out where/how best to place Hobo, then retreated inside to have a meeting about it over coffee/beer. And a warm up/dry out.

With plan firmly established, we set about starting to get Hobo out of her corner. Instantly a neighbour appeared (he must have been hiding in the hedge he was there so quick) enquiring what we were up to and, once up to speed with our little plan, pitching in to help like boaters do.

First job – get the nasty plastic boat nice little cruiser out the way and hauled back as far as poss, which just happened to be under my old wonky willow, no harm intended. Then the neighbour loosed the ropes on the boat I’ve been living in the shadow of, Joe pushed Hobo’s stern out with the boathook and John reversed us out into the river.

And me?

Supervising of course. Not used to the luxury of an extra pair of hands but I could get to like it..

Plenty fending off and then, forward gear engaged and we are go. Already I feel better…

To put Hobo where she needed to be we had to turn her, meaning at the very least a trip through the nearby lock to find enough width (just below the lock there’s a good place to spin her round).

Our American friend, already taken with the whole narrowboat thing, was loving going down the river on my home, loving having a go on the tiller and a very useful addition to the crew at the lock.

Once through, we parked on the other side and BB built some bacon sarnis. Nothing quite like it when out on the river, even if we were only half a mile away – still feels like the middle of nowhere and freedom.

The light misty rain became heavy drizzle and threatened to do worse so we did our turn and headed back to the mooring. The neighbour did that amazing appearing act again and helped with the ropes, I inched Hobo into the bank towards the spot we’d chosen, dropped off a crew member with a rope then backed her up till she was where we wanted her.

Result…

She floats, is level and doors and drawers behaving properly. I can walk in a straight line and things have stopped jumping onto the floor.

I have views to river and land – even a jetty tailor made for rear entry/exit…Bonus.

In fact I’d go as far to say that she is in a better spot to what she was originally.

OK, having done the risk assessment, front boarding is a little challenging…Especially when carrying and even more so when the river comes up. Health and Safety would have a field day.

But John is on the case and promises to re-appear soon with wood, wire and the handsome hunk from NY State  (I promise to do pictures girls) to improve this. Easy enough he says, start from the highest point on the bank and build up to the level of the gunwale.

I am keen, given some dry daylight hours, to have a good old clean up, throw out and pretty up. Home sweet home.

So, as I write, I am a very happy boatbird once more and was busy clicking earlier as the sun went down…And the moon got up…It’s also good to be able to keep an eye on the coal mountain…Transported from the yard where the coalie left it and neatly stacked. Saves me from hauling it, painfully, one bag at a time. Thanks again chaps.

This morning the sun shone into the boat and reflected rainbows, from the crystals that hang in the windows, all around the boat. I opened the side hatch to see the river right there and Hobo gently rolled as I moved about. Harmony, balance and my sanity restored.

My world, as it should be.

Not here…On closer inspection of the jetty…You will see why. Well and truly buggered, for want of a better (printable) word.

I am on a promise, so to speak, and so have agreed to (temporarily) move into a currently, unexpectedly available spot – long story.

A promise of a new jetty, work to be carried out by the hired help at the farm here, under the close supervision of the farm owner – a fearsome lady, not to be messed with. She and I have agreed what needs doing and come up with a plan that suits us both. Between you and me though, I feel the need to keep a close eye on things just in case the temptation to cut corners gets too strong – if you know what I mean.

Hobo’s well-being is vitally important and directly linked to mine. A fact I have known for some time but that has been impressed sharply on me the last few days, since the move. At the moment, Hobo is not happy so neither am I.

So where is she..?Looks fine on the face of it.

Certainly a good sturdy boarding platform..But.

You may have spotted that Hobo has a boat on the outside, preventing me from seeing the river and depriving BB of those all important shafts of sunlight – especially precious at this time of year when there is so little of it.

So I don’t get to see the ducks, don’t get rainbows bouncing around the boat, can’t watch boats passing and wave to their drivers. Even first thing when I pop out the cushion from the bedroom porthole it’s depressing. All is see is another boat – no view of the sky, sunshine, rain or whatever. No way of knowing what goes on in the great outdoors, which is something I enjoy contemplating from my bed. Normally.

And as if all that isn’t bad enough, Hobo is aground. Not only is she not floating, which feels weird when you are used to the boat moving gently beneath you as you walk about, but has the effect of making me stagger sideways (floor not level) and anyone watching would think I was drunk – as if. Perhaps I should drink more…

She is listing to port. Quite badly. Enough to swing the stove door shut so, as I fill the shovel with coal, the way into the fire is blocked by the time my shovel-bearing arm gets there. So a simple one-handed job becomes a bit of a schlepp, almost now needing a third hand in order to complete such a simple task. Don’t forget the stove door is bloody hot so you don’t really want to be touching it. I have a system, which suits me, of placing the scuttle on its side on the deck above so I can dig in for a scoopful at a time. I have a friend who can launch a full scuttle at the small opening and deliver a load of coal right where it needs to be. I tried it. Just the once – never again.

So anyway, at Hobo’s current angle, my cleverly placed sideways scuttle rolled to the edge of the doorway, delivering its load (nicely damp coal and dust) right  onto my steps, lounge floor, behind the chair onto the rug. Mess doesn’t cover it.

The cupboard and fridge (also on the starboard side) do similar – as in doors swinging wildly open if I am not careful – and drawers opposite have become difficult to open (pulling against the angle) but slam shut in the blink of an eye…. Mind those fingers!

And it makes it even harder to get out of bed.

This all sounds pretty miserable I know. Of course there is a short term solution and John and I plan to turn her around – hopefully tomorrow.

Her bow (which doesn’t sit so deep in the water) should float and come to rest against this other little jetty…The boat that was here before, being about 10ft longer than Hobo, would have sat nicely between the two platforms, held off the shelf and would have floated. The hope is that Hobo will too, albeit too challenged in the length department to rest on both. We can only try.

As there’s no sign of furious activity in the building of my new place either, it could be that John and his new-found ex US marine friend – of good solid strong stock by all accounts – end up doing it.

And, as if I haven’t whinged enough already, my current location is as far away from everything as it possibly can be. So even further to haul stuff – shopping, coal, carzy, water hose (now doesn’t reach so have to gypo a couple of short lengths together in order to fill up) and myself – dog dirt alley being currently at its finest just now. Boggy and muddy, not to mention cold.

Oh woe is me.

I do always try to look on the bright side (cue Eric Idle, secured to the cross – sorry if you didn’t see ‘The Life of Brian; you missed a treat and won’t know what I’m on about).

There is a lovely canoe stored in the nettles…Which might just have to go walkabout if I am here much longer.

No doubt some of my gloom can be attributed to not being out there on the river – free and footloose And also the onset of winter. The leaves are at last turning and doing their spectacular thing but once they are gone we have those so short days, bitter cold, rain, snow, ice and so much mud to look forward to.

I’ve been trawling through my pictures lately, especially the southern hemisphere ones, one way of getting some sunshine and open spaces…Oh… big sigh.

Normal service to be resumed soon I hope.

I will, as ever, keep you posted on (hopefully) tomorrow’s successful re-positioning. It won’t entirely solve the sunlight issue, though should help a bit but, certainly if it re-floats me and my boat, I shall be a whole lot happier.

You will have to because, yet again, I failed to photograph the pic of the year.

And not only did I not get the snapshot, I didn’t even tell you the story. I should be beaten.

So rewind to Saturday’s ‘arrival’ at my mooring if you will. That’s the one; John in the river, big splash, very wet. Now he did have spare clothes for his top half (extra layers in case of cold) but nothing for his bottom. So to speak. Which is all very well by the fire in the cosy confines of Hobo but not exactly de rigueur if one is contemplating a trip to Tesco.

And it seems John was – to buy a new pair of jeans. Did I have anything that would fit him? He asks.

The best I could come up with was a pair of leggings, now a little baggy on me, and some socks. We shoehorned him into said leggings (snug) and, as we hiked across dog dirt alley towards the car, John said he felt a little chilly. Well I think that’s what he said….

My very own Rudolph Nureyev!

Before leaving the car in Tesco’s car park, John asked himself if he was really going to do this. I offered to protect his modesty by nipping in quick myself and buying the jeans while he waited in the car but he decided that as he was with me and not his son TJ (the king of cool) it was OK. I’m still not sure how to take this….

In we both went, arm in arm, this somehow making it alright to be tripping through Tesco – with a man in tights. I didn’t detect any sniggering in the aisles but we did giggle a bit amongst ourselves.

Jeans were located, tried on and taken to the robo-till; we thinking this would be our best chance of a sharp exit, while retaining a modicum of dignity. Think again Rudi…

John handed me (the technical one who has to operate machinery) cash from his wallet which, unsurprisingly, was a little damp. I stuffed it in – it spat it out. I stuffed it in – it spat it out. Nothing if not persistent, I stuffed it in and – Bingo! Third time lucky. Or not…

You can say that again…

Actually, a different message appeared on screen, “don’t give me damp money/freeze, armed police (American software) /what are you wearing?” Or something like that. But it was well and truly shocked into a persistent vegetative state. Bugger, we had to call for help.

There was a very spotty youth nearby who came to our aid. Ever chatty, John told him the story of falling in the river, but got no response. He just kept a straight (but ever so pimply) face and soldiered on in an attempt to retrieve the cash from the mechanism.

“You didn’t say the money was wet” he said, still poker-faced, when eventually he managed to extricate it and un-jam the works. John had to suggest he swap it for some dry stuff from another till, which he duly did and came back to re-set the till. By this time, John had put on the jeans – no doubt bored with the ballet dancer look – only to be told by spot that he had to take them off so they could be re-scanned.

Cue hysterics.

Well we thought it was funny but not once, at any stage, did zit-face crack a smile. Not even a flicker.

But then if I had a case of acne that bad… I probably wouldn’t either.

All good things come to en and, so they say, as have my cruising days for the time being. Two – three months I’ve been out there and loved every minute.

Yes, we struck for home on Saturday, having decided this would be the better day of the weekend. And it was. A glorious day – bit windy at times but nothing Hobo and crew couldn’t handle.

I’d fiffed and faffed about whether to return yet or not but a couple of locks en route being due to close next week for maintenance was one consideration. And my inverter bank of batteries needing a 12 hour equalisation charge (to be done on shore power) was another. Then of course there is the predicted hurricane and flooding…

Bit of a no-brainer really.

The belt on the alternator that supplies power to Hobo’s inverter battery bank has been slipping, so not delivering a full charge. This means I have had to run the engine for a couple of hours every day to keep the 240v supply going. The recently installed 6 x 2v single cell traction batteries are capable of delivering at least 4 days of power (and have done so previously) without the need for an engine run.

I understand that this equalisation charge is required, when a full charge is not being achieved, in order to preserve battery life/performance. So be it. There’s no way I am going to jeopardise the health of said batteries.

With new industrial belt fitted, big thanks to Jennie, Steve and Steve, we got cracking at 9.30 am (early for us) as we thought it might be a big ask to cover the 10 miles and 12 locks in the now shortened daylight hours.

It really is unfathomable when trying to time a cruise as so many factors can delay you/speed you on. Take locks. If a lock is set when you arrive it is so much quicker to negotiate, not to mention easier on the muscles, and probably more than halves the time you spend there. There’s also moored boats (polite to slow down when passing) and other river traffic and so on.

So, this being the case, we set off with  open minds and hopeful hearts. We would get back if we could but not stress if we couldn’t.

As it happened, 10 out of the 12 locks were set for us, which is unheard of. We stopped for a bacon sarni at the first one that was against us and, just as we finished, a boat came down and therefore left it set. The other one was a) semi electric and b) sporting an enthusiastic family that insisted on helping with the winding and pushing at the manual end. So really an incredible result.

We were going to do this easily. What could possibly go wrong…?

Well there was the odd shower but, more disappointingly for me, an almost total lack of autumn colour. By the time the leaves get round to providing that spectacular fiery golden backdrop to the river, the expected wild winds will blow them all away.

I tried…But the colours just weren’t…  There…Shame.

Never mind.

There was this though,… Whatever this is. Doctor Bob, I salute you and would love the guided tour of all the gadgies. Do click on the pic and take time to look closely.

Oh, and there was the scary moment when, on entering a lock, the throttle/gear lever came off in my hand…Just when you need the engine to control the boat! But I did manage a temporary fix and avoid a crash till John could get on the case…Restoring normal service…Thank goodness.

So, on we go. We are making record time and in less than 5.5 hours we are passing my home mooring. We have to go on for another half mile in order to turn as Hobo has to be the other way round so that the front doors end up in the right place for getting off and on. It’s an awkward spot but it’s home and I love it dearly.

Takes a bit of roping into place, which we have down to a t now and not normally a problem. But the two boats behind have crept forward in my absence so Hobo won’t fit. She has to be in exactly the right spot for the ropes we leave behind to reach the cleat on the bow. And they wouldn’t.

By now we have an audience of neighbours, braving the now heavy-ish rain, welcoming us all home and trying to help. How nice.

While I was trying to convince the skippers of said boats that they were the problem and needed to be hotched back a bit,  John decided to walk round the plastic boat in front to access Hobo’s sharp end to assess the problem from there.

It might have been unsuitable footwear. It might have been slippery when wet. It might have been the three bottles of Old Speckled Hen…

But it sure was a big splash. John was in the river!

Now we’ve never had a man overboard situation when cruising together and I ran from stern to bow in record time – worried I was. But he was fine; not deep, not cold, not even shaken as he slipped and slithered and finally scrambled onto my rotten old jetty… Seen here during last year’s flooding.

True to form, this manky old structure saw fit to collapse further at this point…

I must have been in shock, didn’t even get a picture. Bugger, would have been a goodie..!

Well, well, well. What an end to the day. We left the ropes in a secure but untidy mess as I insisted John get out of the wet, muddy clothes, jump in the shower and get warm and dry by the fire.

We could get ship-shape tomorrow. That’s the royal we of course – it would be me.

All in all a brilliant day, mission accomplished and a tale to tell.

That was yesterday. Today I have, in-between showers, made some sort of sense of my bit of riverbank, neatened up the roof and tried to prepare for the high winds and torrential rain that is forecast for tonight/tomorrow morning. Hatches are battened and anything likely to be picked up and hurled at the boat has been tied down, nailed down or buried. The inside of Hobo has been mucked out and some semblance of order restored – boating to a deadline plays havoc with my usual orderliness and mountains of washing up/detritus appears from nowhere – half the riverbank seems to have gravitated to my floor. And the can of evaporated milk that fell out the fridge when I opened the door during a coffee making expedition didn’t help, the rugs in the kitchen took the full force and were hastily booted in to a corner and replaced with newspaper – to be dealt with later.

Now I sit and wait for the full force of the storm (raining already) and wonder if the willow tree that leans over my boat (branches now grown back and overhanging) will still be standing in the morning…

I hope so.

Well almost…It was the sudden, sharp burst of reverse thrust that alerted me to this one.

A close shave; poor old Gerty’s chimney nearly getting a headache – or worse.

And this is precisely why Hobo has a pre-flight checklist – chimney off, aerial down etc etc – not at all influenced by John the pilot’s strict discipline.

No, because we (too busy looking at the scenery/too drunk chilled) might not spot the impending collision in time, like these good folks did, and do some real damage.

It was beginning to feel like I’d put down roots, or should I say dropped anchor, at Cheshunt. Nice as it has been, it’s time for a move. So last weekend saw us doing a bit of a backtrack manoeuvre.

As we get ready to leave, an interesting double-decker affair arrives…I’d really have liked a look inside to see how the space worked but owners not aboard. Have to leave it to my imagination then.

We spin round by the ice-cream boat and head upstream on waters which, after several weeks playing about on them, are now familiar to us.

Perfect timing at the first lock we come to…Not only another fine example of a working ‘working boat’ and opportunity to top up on gas/diesel/coal, but their coming out means a set lock for us. Hooray!

We know this lot from their time moored close to my permanent mooring. Nice peops…Who just happen to favour the same brand of beer as John…

This is more to my taste, though I’ve not seen one of these hereabouts – more’s the pity…Sent to me by a friend who saw this in Berkhamstead and thought of me. Now that’s what I call essential shopping!

Anyway BB get back to the point.

We didn’t get going till quite late, due to much mechanicing (thank you John) in order to fix the relay and battery charging issues. It is brilliant that it’s sorted but means we reach the lock at the junction of the Lea and Stort in total darkness. Not something I ever fancied negotiating but, with tunnel and cabin lights on, was surprisingly workable.

Even less planned was the twilight toilet tip out. But hey, who wants to see when one is doing this job?

There’s mooring on the left as we leave the lock and, having managed to pass right by the best available spot, we execute a turn in what seems like a lake, then moor up for the night. Turns out our new neighbours think we are a UFO as the tunnel light is still ablaze!

Now I thought we were being a little rash – cruising in the dark – but, as I was just drifting off to dreamland, two other boats chugged by heading for the lock. It must have been around midnight by then and the driver of the second boat was singing at the top of his voice! Never not interesting this cruising lark.

In the morning we do a little tootle towards Stanstead Abbots, very pleasant too, before turning once more and hanging a left onto the Stort.

John has work to do at the airfield so makes sense to place Hobo close, and we decide that it will be a good move to revisit the Stort. Roydon to be precise.

Not at the same spot as last time – I like to think we learn as we go – but on the towpath away from the noisy road…

An altogether quieter spot with great views of the countryside…Turkey farm…Pretty bridge…

Which provides entertainment for me – mind your head…But to date nothing more than a rapid run along the gunwale by the first mate to remove the chimney. That said, there are a few boats about with mangled chimneypopples so there is fun to be had/witnessed. Just need to be in the right place at the right time. As ever.

On the other hand, the view from the kitchen sink is less than stunning…I shall have to spend less time on the washing up then. Shame.

I’ve managed to put a coat of primer on the ailing hatch, another required before topcoat…

I think will only be a temporary fix though – the wood is buggered – until one day John manages to craft another from oak that he has in readiness. Tidies it up for now. I have, finally, come to appreciate that these ‘little’ tasks must be tackled sooner rather than later, before they turn into A Big Job.

My gas water heater is still out of action; new thermocouple still not arrived and supplier  (7-10 days down the line) still quoting 7-10 days. Currently trying to track down a supplier of thermocouples, rather than a supplier of parts for my Rinnai heater, who could, maybe, match to a sample. Means the existing one has to be removed, by way of a pattern to match to, but it’s not like the geyser is actually doing anything useful right now.

My good friend – a very helpful and multi-talented chap – will be here on Monday to do some re-wiring work for me so…..

Nothing to do with anything but a couple of my current favourite landside things.

My surrogate kitty…Morning Glory…

Anyhow, no immediate plans so unable to say when/what/where will be next.

But stay tuned. You’ll be the first to know.