A little bird tells me it is your birthday today. A Very Special Birthday.
And I would like to send very special birthday greetings and congratulations to you.
Never mind the Olympics….
Never mind the Diamond Jubilee…
This 31st day of May 2012 is the Real Event of the year.
Eighty years young. I salute you Mrs. Brown. Have a wonderful day..!
That’ll be why I am at the treehouse then and not at the boat…
The Law of Sod dictates that any decent boating weather going is also good farming weather. As someone in this alliance of ours needs to earn money (and it isn’t me just now) farming has to take priority over the fun things – boating and even flying. We will get to take Hobo out but no doubt when the weather isn’t fit for much else – you can still boat in the rain and cold and wind even though you probably don’t want to. It does mean that you get the river to yourself though so that is a bit of a bonus. Or at least that’s what we tell ourselves.
The treehouse is where the John resides when he is not on the boat. It is at the farm on the Fens where he works (delightfully and accurately known as Nettle Bank) and, whilst it might not be the lovingly crafted from wood, romantic maze wedged among the branches of a magic tree with lookouts, secret escape runs, rope swings and fairy lights that you might have (and I once did) imagine, it is at treetop height and does have some lovely views. Fen skies in particular (you’ve seen those before so I will try to show you something different this time) and countryside in general. No, it is a portakabin on stilts – sorry if this shatters any illusions.
John is in fact playing tractor tractor right now, making the soil ready for planting, which is set to start on Monday (late this year). So if I want to see John I come to the treehouse. It’s no hardship though, I like it here and it has become another home from home – much like the bus in SA. It can be very peaceful here too (when the yard isn’t full of slaves during the potato harvest and the peacocks aren’t being overly vocal) so condusive to writing, reading or doing nothing…three of my favourite things. It’s also a damned good place to walk or take the air, provided the ‘Fen Blow’ is switched off and you have packed suitable outdoor wear. I’ve finally got it right this weekend with wellies, arctic fleece, woolly socks and anorak when all I really need is shorts and flip-flops…hey-ho.
There are sofas – two of them – so a real treat for me. I do love a good lounge on the couch but not enough to crowd out Hobo by installing one there. 
Multi-aspect windows are great for gazing out of but play havoc with computer screens – as yet no blinds/curtains but John is threatening to make shutters. (He has coped for a decade without them so I am not holding my breath). 
Heating by halogen/convection is fine now that the boss has his own windfarm and encourages the use of electricity and much less dramatic than the flame-throwing space heater that was the order of the day on my first visit.
Tom, Dick and Harry – phase 1 of the windfarm
Kitchen facility is minimal with kettle, microwave, toaster, slow cooker and electric frying pan. The lack of a conventional oven and hob is fine by me – no hot stove for me to slave over. The bathroom has all the usual facilities – H/C, shower, loo – no bath though. Well…nothing is perfect. The bedroom is just that – room for a bed and not much else so we fight for floor space on which to neatly hang our clothes. There is, however, both curtain and blind that helps to stop the rising sun from being too much of a nuisance in the morning.
Being a lazy cow Not wishing to upset the natural and unique charm of the treehouse, I do try to leave it be and not engage in domestic interference or inflict too much order hereabouts. John has his own system and far be it from me to upset the chaos rhythym and feng shui that he has created. It does get the better of me sometimes though and I find myself tidying or cleaning but it doesn’t last for long. Usually just as long as it takes to scour the inside of a mug that has seen many brews and not a lot of washing up inbetween. Or scrape a path through the mud on the kitchen floor. Nothing too strenous you understand.
There’s decking (cleverly crafted from potato boxes) at the top of the stairs that serves as a dumping ground for John’s treasures verandah. This is due for a little re-modelling imminently as the staircase is about to be moved (to give slightly more private access away from the middle of the busy, muddy yard) and existing boxes now rotten as a pear and an accident waiting to happen fail to meet strict health and safety standards in force at Nettle Bank. Yeah right..
To be fair, the treehouse doubles as the farm office so sees its fair share of muddy boots and, with farming starting painfully early and continuing till darkness and beyond, I completely see that anything more than a shower/something to eat/bed after a day’s work is simply too much to ask. Of a man.
Downstairs is a fully kitted out workshop (where John makes things and can amuse himself for hours), jetwash (well there was before the pikeys paid a visit), endless supply of calor gas, diesel and wood in exchange for reasonable money or (in desperate times) my labour. And all the potatoes you can eat, the occasional cauli and coming soon – peas. Not to mention a runway, now properly grassed (needs mowing and rolling) just the ticket for John to make his escape…
Walk this way…
…to the landing strip
John’s boss, recently seen on BBC’s ‘Question Time’ and not one to be messed with,
is very accomodating of John’s love of flying and has made a super job of the new runway. He’s a pussycat really…….
Mostly, this year is all about wheat and the spuds are being kept to a minimum.
And the aforementioned peas.
I’m thinking we need a tractor pic so here is John in the distance, spreading the fertilizer..
and again close up..
Now you know what it means if John is back in the yard……..Yep, it’s time for lunch. Hooray!!
I am by no means an expert in the photography field but, with the aid of digital technology and a little help from my friends, am learning.
Recently, I was bemoaning the fact that I was unable to capture a complete rainbow here . When my dear friend Lorna showed this to her accomplished photographer other half, he of course had the answer: stitching. Simple – all I had to do was download Microsoft Ice. So I did…as well as the other half a million programmes necessary to support this, carefully unticking a whole host of boxes to prevent gaining unwanted extra tool bars along the way – you know how it goes. At the end of all this I then had to install something else because it wouldn’t work – needed the 64bt version apparently. Beats me why it didn’t know that in the first place but my knowledge of computer speak isn’t that great either.
So, after something of a schlep, it was done. This is my first attempt at stitching and, whilst not a brilliant result, showed the potential and gave me ideas….
A few weeks back I finally got round to scanning all my old photos into the computer (previously stored in a picnic hamper behind my chair and all but forgotten); a little job that has been on the cards ever since I moved on board some six years ago. I say little job…that it wasn’t. But it was a very worthwhile one. I actually look at them now that I don’t have to move stuff to get at them and can use them and, to get back to the point, I can stitch some of them together.
A long time ago in another life, I was travelling in South America and went to see Angel Falls. The trip was incredible and a bit intrepid at times.
We flew in this..
over this..
Orinoco River
this..
this..
this..
this…
and landed on this..
We trekked through the jungle and walked up this..
and passed this..
After walking in the ice-cold water, hanging on to ropes as the gradient increased and being made by our Indian guides to swim in pools along the way, we eventually reached the ‘end of the road’ – the most marvellous waterfall, which we swam beneath. The descent was much faster, like a giant foaming waterchute carrying us spashing and squealing to our starting point. Exhilliarating or what! 
The above was made up from my original pics (taken in stages) and stitched together; something I’d always planned on doing with the hard copies and never did. Quite a result I have to say and thank you Alex for telling me how to. I can’t see the join..
I should tell you at this point that when I started this post and looked for my scans, they were nowhere to be found. It was a bad feeling, all those hours of hard work lost. I was for a time totally gutted, search after search producing nothing, until I checked the re-cycle bin where I had inadvertantly filed them.
Told you I wasn’t very clever…
Ugley is an Essex village that happens to have beautiful bluebell woods, as well as a funny name, which we discovered by accident the other year and chose to re-visit on the way to the treehouse this Tuesday.
It’s a small but most worthwhile diversion if you get the timing right…
Which for once I think we did…
Aren’t they gorgeous? 
All around you and everywhere you look, a beautiful blue haze seemingly hovers just above the ground. Totally stunning. And the perfume is astonishing, making a tramp through the woods a real delight.
No wonder they call it beautiful Ugley.
I am warming to Essex.
Silly thought: Ugley probably has a Womens’ Intitute too, which I certainly won’t be queueing to join. Think about it…..
Hobo time is a strange phenomenon that John and I are regularly subjected to when left to our own devices on board. We’ve just had another dose of it during the past week or so – ever since I picked him up from the airport in fact.
Not only is Hobo the boat tardis-like in terms of available space once inside but also capable of time travel. It’s true. I often wonder if other liveaboards experience this or if it is peculiar to Hobo, or us, or is some kind of odd chemical reaction that occurs between us all.
However it comes about, it has the effect of propelling us into the future, right from the very beginning of the day. We wake at the usual time, which is early if John is around – say 06.00. He makes tea, which we drink in bed, and all of a sudden it is going on for 10 o’clock. How does that happen? We get up, do breakfast, have a quick look at the paper/check e mails etc and, magically, we are transported into the afternoon. And so it goes on throughout the day.
That said, we’ve had a lovely time. Apart from the obvious joy of being re-united, we’ve actually (despite Hobo time) achieved quite a bit jobs-wise. OK, so if it hadn’t been for the World Snooker Championships being televised at precisely the right time, I know damn fine that my new digital TV would still be in its box right now, where it has waited patiently for the 12 volt wiring to be extended in order to power the aerial booster. But, thanks to Ronnie O’Sullivan and Co, it is now fully functional, complete with new slimline aerial and mast. A vast improvement and cosmetic coup – no trailing wires inside or outside as now all neatly concealed beneath the woodwork.
Neat eh? Aerial folds completely flat to the roof too.
This, together with several other small repairs and refinements that fall outside my strength or skillset, have made me a very happy boatbird. Not to mention how nice it is to have a man around when the river is up over the jetty, making comings and goings a little tricky and decidedly damp.
All good things come to an end though and John is once more installed into the treehouse, where he lives when not on the boat, ready to resume farming – weather permitting. When next I spend some time there I shall do a treehouse post but for now I include some pics I/we took from inside the treehouse and around the farm earlier.
Fabulous Fen skies…
Flocking Starlings…
Ploughing up the Gulls and Maris Piper in flower..
Percy the Peacock…
And Spring hedgerow…
I broke the 150 mile round trip to the fens and back with an overnight stay, returning to Hobo last night, where I am left to resume my work. Much of this morning has been given over to mucking out and restoring order from the chaos that John naturally creates. I’m not complaining, it’s who he is and, anyway, a little chaos in my life is good and keeps me off the OCD road, which I fear I flirt with. But I simply can’t live and work in a muddle as a general rule.
With the river flowing fast of late, water and towpath traffic has been minimal so the view from my window has had a bankside focus…
And the water didn’t stop here – yes, the jetty was totally submerged at one point and remained so for a couple of days. And the meadow was a total bog – wellies essential.
Plans are now being hatched for frights in the scary hairyplane – Goodwood, Isle of Wight, Cornwall, HusBos and Sherburn-in-Elmet and more – so watch this space for spectacular shots of English countryside and more…
Starboard side, by way of a change….
Pretty aren’t they? I’m no expert on wild flowers but, if I am to believe the Collins Gem guide, it is the Cuckoo flower. AKA Lady’s Smock, Milkmaids and Meadow Bitter-Cress, it is found in marshes and damp meadows. That was the clincher – it is that here for sure. It’s edible too. Hey, a new salad ingredient!
There’s much more photo opportunity portside, the towpath being across the river, and the people watching potential is brilliant. But I am loathe to point my camera in the face of the ‘innocent bystander’ and have been ever since my time in South Africa 2010.
These women clearly did not want their picture taken, something of which I was blissfully unaware until John pointed out I was about to get stoned. And not in a good way. See the one on the right, arming herself with a rock as the one on the left covers up?
I had no wish to offend or frighten these people; my actions borne out of ignorance of their culture. For that I am sorry.
On the other hand, these boys positively relished being in focus and flashed gorgeous grins at my camera. There was a dead cow in the bakkie – see the blood running onto the road? A feast for the family.
Both shots were taken on approach to the Kei River bridge during the run up to Christmas, a particularly manic time on South African roads, as we returned from our epic road trip to visit John’s boys at their anti-poaching unit up near the Mozambique border.
Some towns were totally gridlocked.
So, it remains to be seen whether I brave the towpath people shots or not. I don’t want to upset anyone and you never never know do you?
In a previous post I made reference to some of the things that gang up on me to tear me away from whatever it is I should be doing and it occured to me that perhaps I should show you what I am up against.
Nice weather….
…for ducks.
Yesterday was all sunshine and showers here and gave way to the most stunning rainbow ever. I just had to leap up and go outside to see more…
…it was one of those perfect yet rare specimens that you can see both ends of, as well as the middle, and the light was incredible. A spectacular scene. Neither me nor my camera was up to the job, sadly unable to capture its whole or to really do it justice. Hopefully the essence of the moment will come across in these pics.
This morning brought sunshine and white fluffly clouds that stood out against a beautiful blue sky; clumps of cotton wool suspended in the atmosphere like those in a child’s painting.
…and Dobbins senior and junior came out to feed and frolic.
It brought out the anglers too…
…and one man in his canoe.
I’d seen him coming through my cratch window at the front of the boat so went to position myself at the kitchen window, ready to take the shot as he passed. But he didn’t show up. I looked forward again and he was taking a photo of Hobo!!
We both had a jolly good laugh as he glided by. It really was a ‘snap’ moment and he did have a lovely laugh.
Notice how ‘de tren’ has snuck into shot too…?
So you see, in the last couple of days alone, there is much to take my mind from where it should be. And this is the norm. And minus the sound effects. Apart from jumping up to roll down the canopy each time it rains and again to open up when it stops, there’s always something afoot outside my window, albeit sometimes merely the elements showing off.
I can see that I have started something, which as well as whatever it is that distracts me in the first place, will now compel me to also photograph it for this spot. I feel it may become a regular feature of this blog.
I can also see that I shall have to keep my windows nice and clean….
Last Friday two of my neighbours set off for their summer cruise, earlier than usual so as to avoid the Olympic nonsense, vaguely headed for the Llangollen – or Llangollywog in Johnspeak. I watch them chug away, all smiley faces and waves;
two narrowboats travelling in tandem towards places as yet unseen and adventures unknown.
I am a little envious and question my decision to not cruise, as such, this year. My plan being to stay put, earn some money and give Hobo some attention – that much needed paint job being top of the list. It’s the right thing to do but still I feel unsettled. Or, more acurately, settled.
John, via e mail, reassures me this is the way to go and speaks of the fun we can still have, exploring more of the upper Lee, playing with anchors as we try out wild mooring techniques. Well done John, I am once again convinced I know what I am doing and look forward to spending some time here just messing about on the river. What could be better?
Saturday turns out to be my really good news day. John is booked on a flight that gets him into Heathrow at stupid o’clock on the morning of April 30th. My birthday. Hallelujah and Happy Birthday to me!
I ran out of gas on Monday, not like me at all, probably due to the 12kg cylinder (smaller than usual) only lasting just over two weeks. I am used to getting around six weeks worth of hot water and cooking from my normal 13.5kg – still not making sense. Anyhow, off I trot to fetch more so I can at least have a cup of tea. A 12kg costs £29.50 and a 19kg £31.50 – how does that work? Scandalous. I can’t woman-handle the bigger size so cough up the £29.50 but order a 19 for delivery – I hate not having a spare. I’ve been spoiled up until now, having access to gas at cost price from John’s farm. The real world is painful.
The rest of the week sees me beavering away and my current assignment is almost complete. I’ve established a routine that works for me and I hope to continue to be productive and less likely to succumb to the many distractions that go with life on the water: jumping up to watch and wave as boats go by, staring out the window at birds/sky/rain/planes/trains/sunset/towpath traffic/canoeists/wind in the trees and all sorts of other interesting stuff that conspires to take my mind off the job.
There are unavoidable diversions though. Feeding the fire (and me), dealing with essential chores, invariably involving people interaction – no-one walks by without engaging in conversation here. But that’s nice. And there’s the shopping, not my favourite thing but has to be done. And Thursday was the day.
I’m usually on a mission to get this over with and managed to get there, done and back inside an hour. Pretty good. I had a phone call on the way back – my gas delivery had arrived and where was I? Two minutes away to be precise. Of course it is chucking it down as I lead the way through dog dirt alley to the boat and a dip in the field en route has turned into a pond. This causes my delivery man and his sack barrow some concern so I wade in, ankle deep, to show it’s OK really.
This was a pond yesterday - honest
But the real fun started when we reached the ruts made by the JCB when the tree murder was going on a few weeks back. It’s very uneven and the gas cylinder wasn’t secured to the barrow and, you guessed it, it jumps off.. We both stood there, like two drowned rats, watching in disbelief as the bloody thing rolled and rolled and rolled……right in to the river. Splosh! You couldn’t make it up – hilarious. Well I thought it was but disguised my giggles by grabbing the boathook off the roof, resisting the urge to fetch my camera and capture the moment. I think this may have induced a total sense of humour failure on the part of the gas man…
The rutted road
We fished it out without further trauma, thankfully. He told me he was having a bad day and just wanted to go home. Poor man. I paid up and probably overdid the thanks by way of trying to make amends for my part in it. I then had to repeat the process (squelching through the bog but not throwing it in the river) with the shopping. All good fun and just part of life as a boatbird.
the river that waits patiently for that lapse in concentration.....
It’s just as well John will be back soon – I don’t think I dare order any more gas for delivery…..
Left a 12kg @ £29.50. Right a 19kg @ £31.50.
Well that’s my week. How was it for you?
Yes, even I have to remove the rose tinteds occasionally and concede there are some things about this lifestyle that I don’t particularly like or look forward to. Or to steal a phrase I read recently: it’s not all roses and castles…
1) There’s the loo. Boaters don’t have the luxury of being able to rely on the flush fairy to take away their waste and talk a lot about their particular method of dealing with it. Be it a pump-out, cassette or porta potti, it’s not a chore you can ignore. My own is the last of these three, probably the least sophisticated and, like the cassette, has to be manually tipped out and you’d have to be some seriously sad sicko to put your hand up to liking doing that. It was the first thing I planned to change, by upgrading to a pump-out, when I moved aboard. BUT: The holding tank is usually sited beneath the bed, which doesn’t appeal to me in the least – I’ve heard tales of them leaking (OMG!) – they cost in the region of £20 per empty – the boat has to go to a special pump-out place, which could be a way away and may or may not be working when you get there – takes ages – still smells – will probably require emptying every couple of weeks. And if the river/canal is frozen and you are iced in…..? OK, so you can get a DIY kit but you still end up with a containerful of stuff to deal with. Most boaters I know who cruise end up with one like mine as a back up anyway. SO: I live with my little camping loo. It’s not so bad, lasts nigh on a week and I am now able to stop breathing for the two minutes it takes to tip and rinse. Simples! And from this negative comes a positive: the moment the deed is done you can rejoice in the knowledge that you are as far away from the next time as you can be. A bit like Christmas.
2) Narrowboats naturally sit lower in the water at the stern, meaning that water will always drain towards the back of the boat. Whoever fitted my shower tray didn’t think about this and the plughole is nearer the front end, water won’t go uphill so I always end up with a dreg to sponge out before the limescale gets to work. BUT: Small price to pay. SO: Live with it.
3) Nobody likes dog poo though some people I know (John) are positively dog muck magnets and it gets walked into the boat. Great. A friend of mine has a similar problem and when we were in Jersey……………better not go there in the interests of our continued friendship. We get our fair share on the towpath; in fact regulars here will know I call the approach to my boat dog dirt alley. BUT: Same can be said for pavements, parks and anywhere else that dogs are walked where their owners turn a blind eye. It’s a people problem not a lifestyle issue. SO: Shit, as they say, happens.
4) Leaving Hobo. Sad but true. I hate to leave her, be it for a short while or the whole of the British winter, don’t ask me why. BUT: It’s really good to get back and I do have a very good friend who keeps an eye on her if I’m to be away for long. SO: It has to be done for heaven’s sake. Get over it.
5) Being away from old friends. BUT: Mostly we can, and do, communicate electronically and I do have new friends around here. The community thing means I always have company if I want it. There’s nothing like meeting up with an old mate on the spur of the moment though, being able to nip round for a cuppa/lunch/chat or whatever and no real substitute for actually being with someone, for real, in the flesh. SO: This is the cloud for my silver lining and will, in time, probably draw me nearer to them. As long as there’s somewhere to moor Hobo of course…!
6) See picture. Gross you say. Indeed. BUT: Tell me you’ve never seen one near your home or place of work or somewhere you’ve been. Fact is they get everywhere (we’re never more than 6ft away from one allegedly) and, contrary to popular belief, not seen on, in or around boats that much. Not in my experience anyway. SO: Live and let live – just not in my tree eh.
7) Dropping things in the water. Something that drives me bonkers. It usually happens to me when I’m getting on or off, specs perched on head, full bag of shopping or generally just getting a bit blase. Maybe you’ve had a drop of pop – it’s so easily done. Thankfully (touch wood) I’ve not dropped in myself but they do say it’s a matter of when and not if. I’m very careful these days with anything precious. If you can’t get hold of a boatie friend, chances are they’re not avoiding you but have dropped their phone in the drink. BUT: It can give rise to funny stories – we’ve lost chimney caps to trees when approaching boaters’ brains have gone AWOL and John has dived in before now to retrieve a whole chimney that we managed to knock in with a rope as we tried to moor in high winds. And you can, with luck and patience, get some things back with a magnet or hook. SO: Very much a hazzard of living afloat, just stay aware.
I had thought this would be one of my shorter posts, given the subject, but turns out to be one of the longest. But that’s just me wobbling on as usual and in no way means there is much, in my view, bad about living on the water. But it wouldn’t suit everyone.
Sorry about the nasty picture and by way of something to help you forget, here is something completely different……………….
I’ve recently participated in a case study of liveaboard narrowboaters, now published on livingonanarrowboat.co.uk , which is worth a look if you are a narrowboat nerd like me – especially if you are considering moving on to the water – or if you’d just like to see some more of my wonderful wordsmithery (the unpaid for variety). Seriously though, have a squiz at this site if you’re at a loose end – it’s free to register, full of info and there’s lots of reading.
Anyway, this exercise involved me answering pre-set questions about various aspects of living afloat, one in particular giving me a really hard time: “What do you like most about narrowboat life?” Well, you know me, I could wax lyrical on that subject for ever and a day… but that’s not what they wanted, that’s for here. No, I was being asked to single out one thing, just the one, the icing on the cake, the cherry on the top, the very bestest bit. And it really made me think; a sort of count your blessings moment.
So that is what has inspired this post and here are some of the things (in no particular order) that do it for me – narrowboat-wise.
sense of community ~ simple life ~ pretty pools of shimmering light reflecting off the water onto the ceiling ~ mist on the water ~ rain on the roof ~ wind that gently rocks the boat when I’m in bed ~ my woodstove ~ smell of the woodsmoke ~ sun shining through crystals that hang in the window making rainbows all over the boat ~ camaraderie ~ colourful characters ~ closeness to nature ~ wildlife ~ countryside ~ the unique perspective when cruising through towns and cities ~ planning a cruise ~ setting off ~ returning home ~ the cruising itself ~ exploring new rivers/canals ~ finding that perfect mooring ~ travelling for miles and still being at home ~ only having to travel a short distance to totally alter the view ~ being able to move home on a whim ~ meeting new people ~ making friends in the locks (or queue for) ~ boatie friends from before still keeping in touch ~ ability to drop off the radar ~ technology that works on the boat ~ pulling off a tricky manouevre with the boat ~ John congratulating me on this ~ anyone congratulating me on this ~ devising a clever new storage idea ~ John making it ~ it actually working ~ shops with moorings ~ pubs with moorings ~ being almost self-sufficient ~ being skipper ~ having an empty loo ~ having a full water tank ~ being in the middle of nowhere ~ having all doors and hatches open when weather permits ~ battoning down and feeling snug inside when it doesn’t ~ the pace of life ~ the friendly waves ~ hobo being in peoples’ photos ~ being who I am ~ shedding stuff ~ peoples’ reactions when they discover I have running water/shower/washing machine/loo/various home comforts on board ~ John bringing back wild flowers after a walk on the towpath ~ ditto mushrooms/wood/veg ~ sunsets over the water ~ peace and quiet ~ being able to reach most things without moving ~ being in bed and the boat swaying as John moves about and makes my morning cuppa ~ kisses and cuddles on the tiller while we’re on the move ~ peeking out of the porthole when I wake to see a different scene from the day before ~ being able to sit, stand, walk and dance on my roof ~ fresh air ~ Hobo not suffering from condensation when it is said that all boats do ~ kids pointing and shouting “Hobo” ~ ditto adults ~ kids saying “that’s so cool” ~
Imagine if you will (and you’ll need to be a ripe old age to be able to do this) the sound of a stylus skating across vinyl. This is the sound that signifies it’s time to stop. And for those of you that have soldiered on to this point, I will reward you with pictures…..
Swan on the ice
I apologise if this post has provoked a prolonged attack of puking and promise to redress the balance in the next one, which will concentrate on the not so nice element of this lifestyle. But it could be a considerably shorter piece……
Boatbird
Boatbird 