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Frustrating Times and Fun on the Farm

17 Dec

It’s looking like the arm ailment might be a long job. Certainly not an overnight fix anyway. Bugger.

I’ve seen a physio, am doing the exercises recommended to stretch the tendons, resting the arm as much as possible and applying a little massage now and then. With an over-use/RSI type injury, that I apparently have, that’s the way it is. And Google agrees, so it must be true.

The left hand/arm is being employed as often as possible/when I remember and I’m managing to keep working/on top of things (sort of) albeit in a cack-handed kind of fashion. Very frustrating. There’s much I need and want to be doing but it is all taking so much longer than normal, if I attempt it at all. I will have to be patient. Hmmm.

On the up-side, the grill has started to behave again just as mysteriously as it stopped so I am all cheesed up instead of cheesed off and negotiations re the damage to my car seem to be going well. I’ll say no more on that just now – don’t want to jinx it.

Lucky for me, John is here working on the farm so can help with the heavy and awkward stuff. I’m getting better at accepting help these days but I’d much prefer to be able to just get on with it, in my own time/under my own steam/my way.

Enough of my woes, I’m sure you are much more interested in what’s going on down on the funny farm, so let me introduce you to some of the animals that John is getting to know and feeding pictures of to me.

The Highlands are bred for showing and win many, many prizes; show after show, year on year. The farm office is full of rosettes.

They are treated as pets (and with much respect) and all have a name. As have all the other animals, which we are gradually learning.

Here’s Callum…

IMG_20141203_131033

A much sought after and multi prize-winning bull, a very handsome, naughty and ferocious beast. Check out that evil eye!

Here again with Fredrica who was named after Dianne’s father as born the year he died…IMG_20141203_130955

And farm owner, Marlene, with one of Stansted’s finest on finals in the background.

Back home is Ben…IMG_20141202_112142

IMG_20141202_112138With mother and daughter team, Dianne and Chloe -17 yrs old and a super kid – great girls both.

And here is Carina…IMG_20141203_112558

Careening around. John must have nerves of steel to stand in front of her with nothing but a camera. I’d have been long gone!  And not even a hint of camera shake.

And two young bulls, Denzil and Dylan, lending a head…IMG_20141202_134643

While Marlene decrees it will fit in there…IMG_20141202_134632

And of course it does. Nothing wrong with Marlene’s judgement.

Back off Carina, I’m driving says Zola…IMG_20141203_112629

Know your place – my horns are bigger than yours.

It’s pretty wet and muddy around here just now…IMG_20141203_132753

But the dinkey donkeys don’t seem to mind.

They come and visit sometimes…003But only because they want to eat my garden…001

They don’t fool me.

But if there’s just one picture that captures Fun on the Farm, for me this is it…IMG_20141203_130917

But it’s all smiles on this farm…IMG_20141203_123453

Even when ankle deep in pig shit. Not sure of this baby Highland’s name.

Ten heifers have been grazing at the Thorley Wash nature reserve over the summer and these now have to be transported back here. They fetched the first two yesterday – quite an operation – and I’ll be covering the highlights here soon.

I’ll have to do a separate post on the dogs. There’s so many of them – again, all named – that even Marlene has lost count. They have been known to growl a bit and nip an ankle of the unwary here and there, and can certainly make a racket at feeding time but, on the whole, we get along fine.

John has the right idea and walks around with a pocketful of dog treats. No flies (or teeth marks) on him.

But here’s Marlene’s constant companion, Dolly…IMG_20141212_163122

Cue for a song surely: Well hello Dolly, looking swell Dolly – enough already.

I may have mentioned the mud, which almost scuppered this chappie…011

As he manoeuvred…009

And soon became stuck…001

Men and old machines to the rescue then…008

And with chains, not so gentle persuasion, a little know-how and much expert (?) supervision…006

Eventually delivered its cargo to the slipway where this feller took over…012

What a big un!

The 70ft widebeam was successfully lifted in…014

And soon after chugged its way downstream, passing Hobo on the way to wherever it was going.

STOP PRESS: I have just picked up a cheque re the accident damage so am now a few hundred quid better off/a bit less into the overdraft than when I started this post. That has to be good.

And the car won’t be going to hospital for bumper amputation, prosthetic attachment and posh paintwork. Instead will live on to fight another day, looking more and more the fearsome farm vehicle she has morphed into, and sporting her battle scars with pride and personality.

We are both in the wars it seems but will get through these tough times together.Woman Driving A

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My Friend Jo…

6 Dec

Big birthday today!

For my friend Jo

Sixty – bejabbers!

Not that you’d know60th-birthday-cake-2

With a spring in her step

My friend Jo

Is agile and fit

With a healthy glowhealthy glow

Time for a knees up

My friend Jo

Go out and make merry

Where will you go?knees up

Have a great time

My friend Jo

Dance till you’re dizzy

Cares to wind throwdancing

So here’s to your happiness

My friend Jo

It’s not every day

That Big Six Oh..!Cheers

Much love A xx

Out of Alignment

2 Dec

Ever had those times when things just don’t quite go right? It’s like everything is just off centre, slightly skewed or out of true – like your stars aren’t lining up properly. Maybe my fairy godmother has gone AWOL for a while or karma is catching up with me, but Boatbird has just had one of those weeks.

It started last Monday evening as I was driving home. I was almost there, sitting in traffic along the main street, when a car attempted to turn right behind me into a side street. I say attempted…

Misjudged would be a bit of an understatement but suffice to say that his car now needs two new doors and mine needs a rear bumper. To be fair, it looks like it should ping out…003 004

Or maybe not. On presenting the Battlescar (formerly known as the Battlestar – as in Galactica) at the bodyshop, I am informed that this just isn’t going to happen. And what’s more, if this goes through insurance, it will almost certainly be written off. Well she is knocking on a bit now: approaching 150k miles…002

I’d rather it wasn’t though. We all know that a Toyota can live forever and it is a very nice car: boring steady and reliable, doesn’t owe me anything (and isn’t worth anything), has so far sailed through its MOT each year and doesn’t even cost a lot to run for a 2.5 litre automatic (if you forget the road tax, which is Bloody Expensive). It will still whoosh along with the best of them, isn’t so bad looking…100_3163

Has an enormous boot which swallows all that stuff I can’t fit/don’t want in the boat and so, for all these reasons, I’d decided to run her into the ground.

My Toyota attacker is currently considering his options – doesn’t really want to involve the insurance company – and I am relatively hopeful that he will stump up. Fingers crossed then.

Actually, best not as this is too painful. The next thing to go awry was my right forearm. Out of the blue on Thursday, it started to become extremely painful and, being right-handed, is making even the simplest of tasks at best excruciating or at worst, plain impossible. I’m doing what I can with the left (like typing this) but everything happens in slow motion when employing your non-precision hand and some things are damned difficult. Ever tried brushing your teeth with your un-clever hand? Not easy.

Paracetamol or rub in gels won’t touch it, the doc has no idea what it is (could be tendinitis but not been doing anything unusually stressful for my arm) but prescribed stronger painkillers and said to call 111 if it swelled, the painful area increased or became inflamed/unbearable. I can’t take ibuprofen so currently on the cocodamol and hoping it goes away soon; one has to be relatively fit and functional to live on a boat and all that this lifestyle entails.

The firebrick at the back of my little stove has crumbled (I’ll forgive it as it came with the boat eight years ago and wasn’t new then) and I have sourced a new one…002

Not expensive at £11 odd but how to fit it is another story – especially with a gammy arm – but now the riddler plate has disintegrated too! So another trip to the stove shop in Takeley on the cards but for now the old squirrel is looking good…001

That’s a relief as it’s turned considerably colder out there.

On top of that, the grill on my oven has ceased to work so my staple of cheese on toast is off the menu – you could say I am well cheesed off.

But it takes more than all this to keep a boatbird down (she says hoping there’s not a whole lot more of this to come) so I’m still smiling and not really whinging and whining – more meaning to present a balanced view.

It does fascinate me though how events seem to store themselves up and dump on you all at once. Spooky.

Oh, and a funny thing to end with. TJ brought me 400 cigarettes back from Belgium (approaching half price at around £5 for 20) where he’d been working the other week. By chance, I was reading the small print on the packet (or not as I’m far from fluent in foreign) and discovered that each pack holds only 19 (19 is still 19 in Belgian)….002

So actually they are £5-ish for 19 not 20 and I’ve been short-changed by one whole pack of 20, making 380 not 400.

How sneaky is that…?

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Answers to some Burning Questions…

28 Nov

Q.   How do you get our four-legged friends across dog-dirt alley in the rainy season without muddying up the car/boat?

A…   IMG_20141127_090038

Q.   Is this a new rare breed of pig – the Gloucester Old Stripe?

A…IMG_20141124_113100

Q.   Where do narrowboats refuel?

A…IMG_20141127_140621

Q.   And WTF is this?IMG_20141124_170818

A…

On a postcard please or, this being the age of the internet, leave your best guess in the comments. Our panel of judges will reward highly anyone coming close.

Remember Remember…

5 Nov

The fifth of November

Gunpowder treason and plot

I see no reason why gunpowder treason

Should ever be forgot.guy-fawkes-gunpowder-plot-1605

I think his idea was pretty sound, given the state that our parliament is in these days. Even though he failed big-time, he did leave a glorious legacy that lights up the sky this time of year – usually for a couple of weeks before and after the 5th November. And any other time there’s the slightest excuse for making big bangs and crackling sky sights that get us oohing and aahing.

Come to think of it, I usually get my big fireworks fix in August. Have a look at this to save me the bother get the idea. It’s a marvellous event, trust me.

No plans to head out to any displays tonight though – no need. I have as much action as I need in that department that can be seen without leaving the boat. I’m guessing it comes from ‘Arlow.

That’s Harlow in Essex, in case you were wondering, a very special place just down the road from here, where good drivers, good taste and good boatbirds like me fear to tread. And a world away from here – Hertfordshire – albeit separated by only a couple of miles in reality.

I must brave it one day, with the camera to capture some of the sights, and do a proper post on the subject. I promise you’ll laugh like a drain like it.

Anyhow,  I’m getting ready for winter…

005

This’ll do for starters.

I get 3/4 days from a bag of coal so this lot should last me around two months – longer if I burn wood, which I will when I have it. And my stove will be going 24/7 mostly and keep me and Hobo’s resident creepy-crawlies sweltering and the paint on the outside blistering properly warm and cosy. I choose Excel over Pure Heat as it makes a lot less ash but the same price so I think a no-brainer.

The 47kg gas (for hot water and cooking) should be good for 3/4 months, at my current consumption of 13kg to a month (ish), so that should take care of the worst of the winter… if I’ve got the sums right.

It looks a bit pikey site needs a little tidying up but as my kind neighbours (Bill and Bill) hauled this lot from where the coalman left it (the other side of dog dirt alley) I can hardly complain about the neatness/whereabouts of their stacking.

No, I’m a lucky old boatbird and duly grateful.

So winter approaches, although maybe someone should tell that to the moorhen (not so) young. They clearly think they are surfer dudes…001

I wonder what this season has to offer. My money is on a cold one – we could certainly do without all the rain we had last year – though right now I hear it hammering on the roof and see it cascading down the windows. Of course outside – Hobo doesn’t do condensation!

Guess the shopping can wait a while…

Happy Bonfire Night people. Have fun. Stay safe.bonfire

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What’s in a Name..?

30 Oct

By definition, a boabird likes boats.

And this boatbird likes this boat…IMG_20141028_183924_87

A lot.

Isn’t she splendid? I want her.

I’d be very proud to tow her along behind Hobo when we are a’cruising and she’d make a superb little run-around. Imagine arriving at the pub in this (leaving could be fun). She’d go where Hobo won’t, can’t or shouldn’t and would make a great tender too, especially if we want to moor up somewhere a little inaccessible.

She does, however, require a little work on her interior…004

But that is the way with boats.

Raggety Ann is a new arrival in the yard here and the owner seems to be assembling a bit of a collection…002003001

The large yacht beneath the blue cover is, funnily enough, another concrete boat so sort of related to John’s little boat.

Speaking of which, I am expecting a flurry of activity there soon. Potato harvest is now all but done so John has a chance to get busy once more on this project, then I’ll be able to report back here with pics and progress. I know, been said before but we’ll get there.

Lots to do but with a few dedicated days, without too many interruptions/sidetracks/wild goose chases – one can live in hope – the little boat will soon take shape I’m sure.

I’m really looking forward to seeing it being transformed into a fully-functioning river-going craft and doing some river going with her.

Perhaps we’ll even address the naming issue. You never know.

Of course one has to bear in mind that boaters are often referred to by the name of their boat. We have chaps around here that answer to Ellen Rose and Ellis Chicken and I’ve also known a Jonjo, a James Waterlily, a Wooden boat Jim and even a Nobhead (his spelling as marked in the grinding dust on the side of his work-in-progress.)

We met a Volendammer and a Bag Lady on the Thames and John’s Dad addresses his emails to me ‘Dear Hobo.’

There’s more if I could call them to mind but by far the best in my view is Tinkerbell – I don’t even know his real name! I’m not sure many do as he is universally known by this name, sometimes Tink for short.

I rest my case.

So John is being, unsurprisingly, reticent in the naming of the little boat, which seems to have stuck at The Little Boat. We’ve had some very acceptable suggestions but none have gone ‘ping’ so far. And whilst he did like Phoebe… 

Well I ask you, does he look like a Phoebe?100_1071

Hardly.

This was taken after a good old mud splattering down on the farm and not a nasty case of measles by the way.

Maybe I should just start calling him Little Boat…

And yes, I could live with being known as Raggety Ann…IMG_20141028_183924_87

There’s been far worse.

And Now for Something Completely Different…

23 Oct

Cue brass band…BrassBand-Fairey-Tuba[1]

De de der der der de de der…

Get it?

You’re as old as me then and grew up with this lot of utter nutters…

monty python

And that tune – so evocative of all those years ago.

The something completely different I want to talk about though is the writing side of my life; that which I hope one day, in some form or another, to scrape a living make my fortune  from.

Whenever asked what my ideal profession would be, I used to always say ‘anything I can do in shorts and flip-flops’, implying something casual carried out in sunny climes. (That does still stand but I’d add pyjamas to that criterion these days.)

Being a writer fits this bill very nicely: Get up when you like, dress as you please and drink coffee for England – or iced coffee if I luck into living somewhere hot. Working from home means I wouldn’t have to join in with the rest of this crazy, bad, mad world, could opt right out of the daily commute and revel in the total lack of office politics.

Who needs all that shite in their life?

Not I, being a lazy, unsociable sod simple soul.

I have, to some extent, achieved this, by managing to get fired…alan-sugar-youre-fired

To date I’ve been binned thrice in my life ( if you don’t count two redundancies or the time I quit in the nick of time) and that’s because, when I lose interest, I am utterly unemployable.

That said, I am a grafter, have half a brain, held several jobs for four + years – one for 20 years – and run my own business for eight years or so. OK, so neither of the last two ended particularly well but both taught me invaluable lessons and were largely tremendous fun.

When sacked my contract ended at a firm in Papworth, back in 2009, John encouraged me to take a comprehensive writing course in lieu of finding another job. He was convinced I could make it in the literary world and gave me the confidence I lacked to give it a go.

As I worked my way through the assignments and, with the guidance of my (quite impressed) tutor, I submitted several articles – most of which were published. Great, I think, I can do this. But (and there always is a but) the wait for a decision is interminable – your average monthly glossies will sit on an article for up to four months before giving a yea or a nay. They may send a note of acceptance sooner but this is no guarantee they will publish. The pay is poor and very slow in coming, usually 30-60 days after publication, so pay-day might be six months or more after submission. And that’s just bonkers.

I don’t think either of us realised it just isn’t that easy, even if you have talent, are committed and actually put in the hours (many of which are spent chasing a decision or payment). The only way to make a living in this game is to be very lucky prolific, constantly churn stuff out – a real numbers game – and then probably end up selling your soul or ‘prostituting’ yourself by writing all sorts of crap that magazines want. Not for me I’m afraid; I’d rather write my sort of crap.

So, the gaps between submitting my work got bigger, assignments were taking me longer and I was getting poorer and poorer; hence the need for me to forfeit the retirement fund by selling the house (just) before events became critical.That allowed me to mess about on the river, spend a couple of three month spells in South Africa and generally do as I pleased concentrate on the coursework and hone my chosen craft, without work getting in the way of my life.

Assignment 9 took a whole two years to complete, shame on me. My article submissions all but stopped and, four years on, financial meltdown was once more on the horizon.

This may go some way to explaining why I now have two part-time jobs…

stripper-nude-dancer-silhouette-naked-on-a-polecage

But it’s not that onerous in the scheme of things: total time at work only amounting to 20.5 hours a week, so there’s plenty of time to get writing. I’ve taken on another course – proof reading and copy editing – from which I hope to be able to give up the dodgy jobs find well-paid work, which I can do at home.

Despite my tendency for serious procrastination and willingness to be distracted, I am desperate excited and strongly motivated to make this work, and, so far, I’m going great guns. I’ve submitted my principal proof reading assessment for grading (there’s a certificate of competence on offer if I achieve a B or higher) and about to start the copy editing (more creative and better paid) part of the course.

I’m even back into the original course, the assignment I stalled on now done and dusted, and working on the next step. This is to write a non-fiction book (submitting details of chosen publishers/ research/synopsis and sample chapters). The subject is top secret at this stage so if I told you, I would have to kill you. Once this is done, I can start on the fiction side of the studying – the bit I’m most looking forward to.

I belong to a writing group, and have committed to write a book in a year. I’ve started to enter writing competitions and have won one already! The prize wasn’t that much-needed cash though but, ironically for a seasoned boatbird, a one day helmsman’s course. Been there, done that so I have donated it back to them.

OK, so I lied about the jobs. It’s more like this…21-Cleaner

But hey, it’s all a means to an end at the moment. I am enthused, motivated and that end is almost in sight…1light-endtunnel

But in the meantime, BB is enjoying the now and making the most of every moment, especially as this turned up today as quote of the week in another wordsmith’s blog I follow…pin-happy-monster

I’ll go with that. What say you?

My words, pictures from t’internet.

Live and Let Live

16 Oct

This may be a bit of a departure from the  feel-good feature that’s normally here. Forgive me.

But I’m a smoker and I refuse to apologise for that…fag ash lil

Yesterday’s announcement of a proposed ban on smoking in outdoor public spaces has me incensed…bench

For now, it’s the London parks. But that won’t last. It will soon be nationwide plus in your own car, your own home… police that if you can!!

FFS !! Leave Us Alone…smoking-in-park

And let us smoke in peace.

We’ve toed the line with the indoor ban – little choice really – and how about the huge contribution that we, as smokers, make to the pot by way of the enormous duty placed on tobacco? And where are those that blather on about human rights/civil liberties – are we smokers not human too? Is this no longer a free country?

Maybe, just maybe, second hand smoke is harmful. I can actually see that, in confined spaces, this could be a danger and may be unpleasant.

But, for pity’s sake, how does this apply outside? How can it be a health hazard, out in the open?

They say this act, if carried out in parks and so on, supposedly takes away from the promotion of health and fitness; the reason we have green spaces. Maybe we should ban fatties too – surely not a good advert?

They say it puts strain on the NHS: It has already been shown that overeating/drinking puts a far bigger burden on our health service.

They say it influences children to take up the habit: There’s plenty of things that take place in front of the children that no-one sees fit to impose restrictions on. Give kids some credit.

They say a lot of things.

No, it’s purely because some people do not like to see us smoke. They want to tidy us away. Sweep us under the carpet. Stub us out.

Why else would they also be talking about banning the E-Cig?in the bar

This faux fag puts no toxins into the atmosphere and, to me, seems a perfectly acceptable alternative; a way of indulging our compulsion, when otherwise not allowed to do so. Just because it offends them.

Well there’s plenty of things that offend me and no doubt plenty of you too:

How about badly behaved children – should we ban kids?

What about dog shit in public places – should we ban dogs?

Or eating with mouth open/spitting/rudeness/bad driving/queue jumping/talking over one another – and so much more – should we ban people?

Get real!

Until we learn to live alongside each other/be a little more tolerant/consider the feelings of others/educate, we are going nowhere.

Let’s live and let live or, in the case of we smokers, live and let die…deathshead

Or not…100

And if the powers that be are really concerned for our health and well-being, then stop selling them.

Pictures courtesy of Google images and rant by me.

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Perfect Doesn’t Get it Done

9 Oct

Words I read on another boatie blog recently and, believing them to be so true, stole them for here.

I used to be a bit of a perfectionist – If a job’s worth doing it’s worth doing well/Good enough isn’t good enough/It’ll do won’t do – all overused maxims in a previous life. I’m not sure if it’s living afloat, advancing years or some other strange phenomenon but I’ve had a complete change of heart on this one.

Now it seems to me that it is far better to get going on a job and achieve something, rather than constant agonising over method, materials and mastery. I’ve reduced myself to total paralysis in the past by this over-thinking process.

It is a bit of a trait of mine and, to be honest, I still find myself going down this route on occasions and have to give myself a pretty sharp talking to. Unless of course the John is around to save me from any harsh self-criticism – he’ll always delight in delivering a lecture on the evils of the maladjusted mind – mine in particular. He’d have me in therapy quick smart…test-therapy

As ever, in writing about what is on my mind, all becomes clear and that other strange phenomenon I mentioned earlier is clearly John. I’m not admitting to being easily influenced or anything here but he does have a way of making me see things differently. And that’s a good thing in my book; I like to think I am open to new ideas/ways of looking at things and never let it be said I am set in my ways or incapable of a little spontaneity.

In case you are wondering what all this head-shrinking is about, it’s just me justifying my attempts at fixing up the cratch board and re-attaching the TV aerial.

My last post told of taking the canopy into St. Ives to have the zip replaced, which was done efficiently and quickly – took less than two hours. Just enough time for me to fail to visit friends – I found their boat but was all locked up, which is most unusual; they must have seen me coming.

Instead, I had a nice chat with Caroline in the chandlery at Hartford Marina (the old home) and spent a small fortune on coffee at the nearby garden centre but managed to resist the urge to do similar at Jones’s Boatyard by only buying what I went there for. There’s a first time for everything.

So: stainless screws to replace the rusty ones that held the aerial mast and new toggle thingies for the cratch cover, by way of a treat.. 002

Not sure I’ve got them on the right way round but they seem to hold better like this.

Anyway, I’m well pleased with the service I received at S. Robb and Son in St. Ives and thoroughly recommend them if you ever find yourself in that neck of the woods needing work done on your canopy or a new one. Take a look at this link – they seem to do all sorts.

As for re-mounting the aerial… I studied it long and hard to ascertain the correct way to fit it then got busy with the screwdriver. As a blonde, I’m not allowed anything sharp or powered so this is the manual variety, making it hard work. Well I seemed to make hard work of it anyway. I struggled to drive the screws all the way into the wood and quickly gave up stopped just short of them being all the way home, thinking this would do till I have a qualified electric screwdriver operator on my roof.

Up goes the aerial, which is held by a ratchet device that is secured by rotating a lever. I’ve only put it on upside down – would you believe it? Fortunately, it does seem to still work so, with new thinking engaged, I leave it be. It is blowing a hoolie right now though so my fingers are firmly crossed.

And the cratchboard…?

I’ve had a bit of a go, looks a tad better…001

But is by no means perfect and needs more work.

And that’s where I came in – perfect doesn’t get it done.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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The Hobo Shuffle

30 Sep

Should I be fancying trying out that very seasonal dance routine of kicking through the autumn leaves, I need look no further than the roof…006

Just leap up there and shuffle away.

It would probably be more effective than trying to sweep them off – and a whole lot more fun. Whichever way I choose to clear the roof, be sure they’ll be back again and again and again until the tree is bare. That’s what comes of sleeping under a willow tree. But I’m not complaining.

I was earlier though. Tomorrow I am taking the cratch cover in to St.Ives to have the zip repaired. It has stood the elements for eight years now and given me great service but has finally given up the ghost. Loving applications of Vaseline and encouraging words will no longer keep it together and functioning so, for the very reasonable sum of £25, I am getting a new one fitted.

First job this morning then was to remove the canopy, fold up and put in the car ready for an early start on Wednesday. If I get there early enough they will turn it around in a day and I should come home all fixed up tomorrow afternoon, pop back in place – with luck before we get the rain.

But…

Seems the aerial mast is screwed to the wood of the cratch through the canopy so this has to be removed first. Should be simple enough but the screws have rusted solid. Would not budge. Given that the resident brute force and ignorance isn’t resident just now, I present myself at the slipway, with my best feeble female face on, in search of someone else’s BF&I that I can borrow.

Sure enough, once a little cruiser has been launched, I have two takers complete with  rusty screw removing tools. Yes that does include a big hammer by the way.

Andy leaps on to the roof and whacks the impact driver with the hammer, several times, and grunts, groans and grimaces for England. When he does eventually get the screw turning, his mate has to carefully place a screwdriver behind the screw head and carefully lever it up. Times this little operation by four and there you have it; screws removed.

I am very grateful to the boys for this and also that it wasn’t so easy for them either. At least I don’t have to beat myself up for being weak and pathetic – I would never have done it in a month of Sundays.

Easy now – bish bosh bash and cover is unhooked, cobwebs brushed off, folded and in the boot. Yay!

Looks odd without it…001

But a very smart piece of wood. Almost a shame to cover it up but wouldn’t really be without the cratch cover – was the best thing I added to Hobo all those years ago.

I say lovely piece of wood, which it once was, before years of UV, bicycle handlebars and scratchy bungy straps took their toll. ..002

It used to look like this…003

The inside, which has had a much easier life and therefore fared so much better. So, as one thing invariably leads to another in Boat World, there is nothing else for it…007

Has to be  sanded and re-varnished. And what better time than now – sun is shining, cover is out the way – even I can’t talk myself out if it any longer.

It’ll need a few more coats and interim sandings ideally so hope the rain isn’t non-stop when it starts. Hopefully I’ll be able to proudly show off the finished article here before too long.

The next thing was to de-web inside the cratch, which led to cleaning the windows, re-organising the storage, throwing out the mats and brushing the floor. Next I had to sweep the deck, put away the chairs, shuffle the plant pots and assorted  other paraphernalia, tidy up the coal/gas storage, water said plants and feed the moorhen family.

Well, they’ve got into the habit of turning up – all of them together – either at my window when they see me standing there looking out or, as was the case today, tight up to the gunwale. And they squeak. A lot.

What I thought would be a quick half hour job turned out to take most of the day, resulting in the other half dozen or so items on my list getting sidelined and kicked forward to another day. Again. Leaves me feeling good for nothing much other than to veg in front of the tele, feet up and watching something suitably mindless, given that it’s dark at 7 o’clock.

Bugger. The aerial’s down.

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