Ijsvogel

27 Nov

Pronounced I-c-e-v-o-g-u-l and translates to Icebird for those non-Dutch speakers among us. It’s the original name of the little boat and not one that John feels he could live with. I think, he being a tropical flower, it’s the ice part he has trouble with.

Tradition/superstition has it that it’s OK to change a boat’s name when out of the water so, if he ever makes up his mind which name that might be, it won’t bring bad luck.

Remember when we waded on board in those early days of just having acquired the little boat… ?100_3100

Well amongst all the watery wetness, we found a handwritten letter from the first owner to the one before John…001

How lovely, what a find, and joins up a few dots. There were also some old photographs of her build, launch, test run and subsequent trips on the water. Shame about the missing engine room pic – would have answered a few questions. Water damaged and curly edged, we rescued these and stowed in a safe place – ie Hobo – until such a time that we (I) could be bothered to scan them on to the computer.

Having found that time yesterday afternoon (and shelled out on a new printer/copier/scanner to replace my old defunct one) I am now in a position to share these with you.

It’s quite something to have just these few pics – a little bit of her history.

This one shows the armature construction in April 1976, according to the back of the snap…IMG_20141126_0007

Sadly, many of the build shots were too damaged; hard to make out from the photo so wouldn’t scan so well I figured.

These show her being loaded for transport – November 1976 – to the river Kennet…IMG_20141126_0006

IMG_20141126_0005The hull, engine and cabin completed.

And her trial run on the Kennet…IMG_20141126_0002

Also November ’76. What a beauty and cutting along by the looks.

The sharp end is quite different now…IMG_20140530_133436

Much needed extra cabin space having been created by the previous owner. This makes the bow tiny from the outside – barely standing room – but does make a much more usable space inside…

As she is now…IMG_20141117_210515
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A lovely space for the John. He’s gradually putting his stamp on it by adding a desk, restoring the little stove which works very nicely..IMG_20141126_180110And John’s hand-crafted chimney doing the business…
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And will look the business too, once he adds the copper strips.

There’s many ideas/good intentions/plans/stuff still to do in the cosmetics department but all this has to take a back seat until the major things have been dealt with. Notably the engine and hull.

Much has gone on that can’t be seen: like pulling 12 and 240 volt wires through, connecting (after first unblocking) the fuel lines and painting the under-bed storage spaces white – and filling them with stuff. It makes such a difference when you are looking for something under there.

And of course, that perennial problem with boats, finding somewhere to put everything. Just his tools would fill an aircraft carrier. Twice over.

But it’s coming.

On this one, back in the day, the sailing mast is visible…IMG_20141126_0003

And here in use for a family trip on the river Kennett, summer 1977…IMG_20141126_0004

You’ll note that windows have been added by now.

Much of the work that John is gradually now doing is of the not very photogenic variety. As in the engine. He’s found a couple of snags – things sticking that shouldn’t stick and bits that should be bolted on that aren’t. He’s just discovered that it’s the fuel pumps that are jamming up the works, so they’ll be taken to bits now and inspected.

He’s very methodical and takes great pains, which is good, to ensure all is as it should be before he winds her up. Thus avoiding any calamities. Both dying to hear her going though and hoping that the Lister sounds good and is as bombproof as we think it is.

So, we have the proof that she floated and ran once upon a time. Lets just hope she will again. Soon.

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At the End of the Day…

14 Nov

The end of this day…100_2389

Looked a whole lot better than the beginning.

A beginning that saw me – wellies on and hood up – squelching through the mud down at dog-dirt. In the rain. It was that wet sort of rain, falling steadily, just as I was off to my little early morning job. Nice.

I have no picture of this morning. Not inspired to capture this particular element as I was being attacked by it. And it was before 07.30 and I’m really not at my best then.

To make up for that, here is another shot of last light tonight. Ever so slightly different view…100_2390

From my front door.

Nothing more than that really. Just wanted to share the moment.

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Prrofreeding Fale

12 Nov

I didn’t pass…006

Bugger.

After reading this from cultfit.wordpress.com – an interesting and philosophical blog…

Why do we find it so difficult to share our dark and dirty selves online? Do we openly express our happiness via social media to seek the approval of others? Perhaps the most damaging part is that by only recording and sharing the splendid moments in our lives, we lose track of who we really are? 100 happy days isn’t enough to outweigh the other 265-ish days in the year.

I decided to share this un-splendid moment in my life with you, so as not to lose track of who I really am. (And not seeking sympathy in any way, shape or form. Honest.)

I didn’t miss the grade by much but, lets face it, enough for a fail. Seems a bit harsh to me and is very subjective in my totally unbiased (ahem…) view.

So this is how It works. They break it down into four categories:

  1.  Attention to detail
  2.  Spelling, punctuation and grammar
  3.  Technical ability
  4.  Level of intervention

They passed me on 2 & 3 but saw fit not to on 1 & 4. At least my dear old English teacher, Miss Riches, would be proud – re no. 2.

And I can learn symbols – re no. 3. (I can also look them up in the manuals provided.)  Piece of pi cake.

In failing me on point no. 1, they infer that my level of concentration isn’t what it should be and say as much in their handwritten comments – which were, by the way, almost illegible.

Just as well I can concentrate then, or I wouldn’t have been able to read them.

You have no idea how I pored over that assessment piece. And that’s probably where I went wrong – over-thinking. I do have a propensity for this and it really doesn’t do me any favours. Indeed, the less I think the better I become.

As regards point 4: On the course, a lot of time  is spent emphasising that the proofreader shouldn’t intervene/alter the style of the author. They say that in the real world, by the time you get the typescript it will already have been edited and therefore any major boo-boos/glaring anomalies will have been put right. So leave it alone. Yet some of the mistakes I did (correctly) adjust were so basic – the editor would have to be shot for missing them.

They also, at the same time, stress that the proofreader is the final safety net, as it were, and must correct style inconsistencies, as well as the grammatical errors/typos etc. So it’s a judgement call really; one that I called badly it seems.

Oh how I agonised over some points. Shall I? Shan’t I? In the end I did – and obviously shouldn’t have. Heads they win, tails I lose.

This may sound like sour grapes. It is. Actually.

After a self-imposed cooling off period, I emailed to ask, politely, if I could re-take this assessment. Why of course, they reply, that’ll be another £45 please. Kerching!

A couple of my friends have wondered (when I shamelessly sobbed on their shoulder) if this was standard practice. Call me a cynic but I wonder too.

So, what next?

Despite all that I’ve said, I am very much enjoying this course and learning lots, so I shall soldier on bravely with the copy-editing part of the course…004

See how I fare with that. It might be that I’m better suited to this – a less anal, more creative occupation – or not.

Whilst it would be ever so handy to have that certificate of competence that they hand out to those they deem so (not me evidently) to present to prospective employers, I shall do without. Thank you very much.

I will make do with liberal outpourings of bullshit charm and totally busk it market myself furiously when the time comes and if I decide to go the proofreading route.

Maybe, just maybe, this new-found knowledge and insight into the publishing world will make me a better writer. But, if all else fails, I shall have to come up with something else I (think) I can do (that makes money) in the jim-jams.

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You may leave suggestions in the comments if you must. No smut.

Google image

Google image

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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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What’s the Worst that can Happen…?

31 Aug

Technically this (Google image)…boat1

But let’s hope it never does.

No, this week’s drama for BB was not in this league, thankfully, but it seemed pretty damn distressing at the time.

I don’t shower every day, partly water conservation and partly because I don’t think it’s necessary. But, before you think too hard about that, I do of course wash. Consequently, when I do hit the shower, it’s a most enjoyable experience. Those of you who think boats don’t come with such mod cons (the same ones no doubt that think boats are cold, damp, dank and draughty places) need to know that most actually do.

And mine is a very good one. Usually.

So when I was doing my best Herbal Essences impressions the other day, enjoying the piping hot water cascading over me as I lathered the shampoo into my hair, imagine my pissed-off-ness when the pump that takes the water out of the shower tray failed to work.

I should say at this point that said pump has given me grief before but not enough to replace it. It often gives me a heart-stopping moment when it doesn’t spring into action the first time I flick the switch but will then play ball when I repeat this. OK, sometimes it takes two or three attempts and a bit of coaxing or even a few harsh words before it gurgles into life and sucks away the water but it usually does at some point.

Not this time. No amount of sweet-talking/swearing and cursing/violence made the slightest difference. When the water in the shower tray reached the point that it was about to overflow onto the bathroom floor, I reluctantly turn off the taps, consider bailing and try desperately to remember what John did to fix it the last time this happened.

He’s had the pump to bits before – no way was I attempting this. And then it dawned on me. Wiring. I won’t go into details as I’m sure I’ve blogged about it before  but suffice it to say that I knew this was what I needed to check.

So, dripping and with frothy/soapy head (and by now a bit shivery too) I head for the bedroom where the fault was last time. The 12 volt wires run along the wall under the gunwale and, at a point where it is most difficult to see/get at, they are joined by way of a chocolate block.

I, fairly hands-on with most things, normally give electric a very wide berth – be it AC/DC or whatever persuasion. Unless it’s wiring a plug/replacing a fuse, this boatbird will give it the swerve and find a man who can. But, I’m hardly looking the part to pull right now. I need to rinse my hair and want to finish my lovely shower moment.

Conscious of the fact that I am soaking wet and vaguely aware this is a bad thing around electrickery, I dry my hands then assume an impossible position to get me in the right place to look, hoping that something looks obviously out-of-place and fixable.

And there’s no way a picture of this moment will appear anywhere other than in your head.

And what do you know? It did and it was – a wire had come adrift from the chocolate block and just needed re-connecting. Now where’s that tiny electrical screwdriver…?

Luckily, it was in the first place I looked and, with mental pictures of hair standing on end as deadly current flows through me, I re-assume my contortions and (without shock or drama) fix it. Simple.

The pump worked and I (feeling pretty pleased with myself) continued my ablutions and lived happily ever after.

So where was boatbloke when I thought I needed him?

Well, it’s that time of year…IMG_20140820_131447

And when he isn’t hurtling around a field in one of these…A combine harvesting this year's crop

And Pete isn’t thrashing or crashing or bashing…IMG_20140823_155229

In order to affix a new knife blade or similar, he’ll be hanging around waiting for the rain to stop and the wheat to dry out again before they can continue with the combining.

At least he’s making stuff while he’s otherwise unoccupied. A chimney right now for the little boat so we can resume the fixing up of and blogging about that little project.

Lets hope that’s soon.

 

 

 

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