Winter has well and truly arrived with short days and cold crisp frosty mornings, as we enter into this extremely cold spell the clear skies have given us some beautiful sunrises and sunsets, not to mention that amazing full moon.

This year has flown by, I have now shared four Seasons with Canalsonline magazine and am looking forward to lots of exciting things happening in 2023.

With so many heart- warming recipes at this time of year we have all enjoyed slow cooking those casseroles and throwing together hearty soups and one pot meals.

Now though we are thinking towards our Christmas feast and treats. Let’s not wait until the big day for those lovely homemade stuffings, bread sauces and the somewhat underrated red cabbage and Brussels sprouts. We have already cracked into our nuts and chocolate stash, not to mention the Port and Brandy, oh and the Baileys, which of course are purely for culinary use!

I’ve done quite a bit of “pruning” when walking Rosie through the woods and have a very natural look in the boat this year, homemade wreaths and swags using trailing ivy, fir, juniper and rhododendron, I have also collected lots of pinecones throughout the year which double up as great firelighters!

So, the list of favourite seasonal ingredients is endless. The Christmas spices of cinnamon, cloves, nutmeg, star anise and ginger are essential for me, as are the use of chestnuts, walnuts and almonds with the fruits of cranberry, pomegranate, oranges and pears.

Parsnips, leeks, celeriac, red cabbage and of course sprouts are my favourite vegetables. For cheese it has got to be stilton and brie. Then those Christmas herbs of Sage and Bay are the perfect partner to Christmas meats, sausage and stuffing. It’s worth keeping some fresh herbs in as they make such a difference to any dish as opposed to using dried.

Store cupboard goodies are luxury mincemeat (if you don’t make your own) or make a basic mincemeat into luxury by adding extra chopped nuts, orange zest and brandy. A jar of goose fat is also a must for those luxury roasties.

Roast Gammon

A cooked gammon joint goes a long way. For me it has to be slowly boiled in cider and finished with a glaze using two tbsp Demerara sugar with ½ tsp mustard powder, studded with about half a dozen cloves.

• First soak the gammon in water overnight in the fridge. When cooking in a large saucepan it’s useful to sit it on a trivet using a small plate or tin, this stops the bottom from overcooking.
• The next morning after soaking drain and place in the pan, pour the cider over to cover and slowly bring to the boil and simmer for about half an hour.
• I then transfer to a low oven or cook over the stove top for a further two hours on low heat.
• Remove from the pan and allow to cool slightly before slicing off the thick part of the rind. Save the cooking juices to use as stock for soup.
• Score the fat in diamonds and place a clove in each diamond. Mix the mustard and sugar together and smear over the scored fat.
• Stand on a baking tray and spoon a little of the cooking liquid over the lean meat area.
• Finish by roasting in a hot oven for 15 to 20 minutes.

BUTTERBEAN MASH

This a great dish to serve with a cooked gammon. Heat a tablespoon of olive oil and gently fry a small onion or a couple of shallots finely chopped with 2 cloves of garlic finely chopped. Drain a tin of butterbeans and mash with a potato masher or whiz in a blender. Stir into the onion pan and heat through, stirring in 4 tblsp crème fraiche and season with salt and fresh ground pepper. Add a little cooking liquid from the meat if the consistency is too thick.

ROAST VEG TIPS

I Always boil potatoes, carrots and parsnips before roasting. Ensure the steam has totally dried off when draining before roasting to avoid soggy veg. Squash, leeks and onions can go straight into the pan. For roast potatoes, after par boiling, make sure the edges are roughed up by giving them a good a shake in the colander. If honey roasting, melt equal quantities of oil, butter and honey in a pan and always make sure the roasting tray is hot before the veggies go in. Don’t forget to check after about 10 mins and turn to evenly brown the edges. Sprinkle malden salt flakes and fresh ground pepper to finish.

Stuffing and bread sauce mixes are so cheap to buy, but not a patch on home made. It’s worth taking the time to make your own, they will keep in the fridge for a few days or freeze well.

MAKE YOUR SOUP SPECIAL by adding cheese croutons.

• Mushroom or Leek soups are perfect with stilton croutons. Just make stilton cheese on toast and cut into small pieces to add to the top of your soup bowl.
• If you have some tomatoes looking a little past it, roast them by drizzling with olive oil and placing a few garlic cloves, herbs and pepper over them, add a little balsamic if you have it, then blitz to a puree to use in soup or sauces. Cheddar croutons are great with a tomato soup.
• Finely shred some spring onion or chilli and fry to top your soups or add a dash of cream or flavoured oil.
• Grate any cheese over such as parmesan or cheddar.
• Toast a few flaked almonds or crumble a few tortilla crisps over.
• Butternut squash soup goes well with toasted sage leaves or crispy shallots and bacon bits or a dash of coconut milk if it’s a spicy soup.

HOMEMADE STUFFING

• Cut about three to four slices of bread into small cubes. Gently toast on the stove top, in the oven or dry fry in a pan and set to one side. I use sourdough or any crusty bread for better texture.
• Meanwhile, finely chop 1 carrot, 1 stick of celery, 2 cloves of garlic and a small onion (I use my mini chopper it saves so much time) and gently fry in oil and butter. Add freshly ground black pepper, chopped sage and thyme if you have it or a mixture of dried herbs.
• Keep moving round the pan to avoid catching. Then add half a pint of stock and stir well.
• Turn off the heat and top with the dried bread cubes and finely chopped walnuts and a few sage leaves fried in a little butter. Cover the pan and leave for ten minutes.
• Then remove the lid and fork through to mix well. Dot with a few pieces of butter to finish.
• If not using straight away this will reheat or crisp up in the oven.

I make a larger than necessary pan full of this stuffing and use it as a crunchy topping over baked cauliflower cheese, casseroles or toss through cooked sprouts with bacon lardons.

CHRISTMAS RED CABBAGE Is the perfect partner to red and white meats or just with brown lentils as a casserole. Here’s my version. I don’t use all the cabbage, saving some for a winter salad with the addition of white cabbage, raisins, orange juice and sweet honey dressing.

• Finely chop 1 to 2 red onions depending on size and fry in about 75g butter in a pan or casserole dish .
• Add 1 red cabbage finely sliced, 1 finely chopped apple, 1 tbsp chopped dried fruit such as prunes or raisins, 3 tsp soft brown sugar, juice of 1 small orange, 3 tbsp red wine, 1/4 pint stock, 4 cloves, 1 star anise, 1 cinnamon stick, salt and pepper.
• Thoroughly mix all the ingredients to coat the cabbage well, cover and simmer for about an hour until the cabbage is tender and cooked. Can be cooked on the stove top or in the oven and will keep well for five days or freeze.

PEP UP YOUR PEAS
With fried sliced potato, leek and shallot. Stir in a little mint sauce to serve.

SPICY SPROUTS
This is an alternative way to cook your sprouts and particularly good with cold leftover meats. Slice them in half lengthways from the top, make sure they are dry if you have washed them otherwise they won’t go crispy. Roast in the oven tossed in oil. Meanwhile, gently fry two garlic cloves with finely chopped onion or shallot, add a squeeze of lemon juice and a generous drizzle of honey or maple syrup. Once the sprouts are cooked and crispy on the edges combine with the other ingredients and sprinkle over some chilli flakes, chopped spring onion and toasted nuts such as almonds or cashews.

MY MINCE PIE RECIPE

For sweet pastry use 150g plain flour with 75g unsalted butter rubbed in until like breadcrumbs, add 50g sieved icing sugar, 1 egg yolk and zest from ½ orange. Bring together with 1 tbsp cold water and shape into a ball, flatten into a disc and chill for half an hour. Roll out and line the tart tins with discs of pasty, prick with a fork and add the mincemeat filling. I add brandy, orange zest from the other half of the orange and a few extra chopped nuts such as walnuts. Place the pastry lids on and brush the edges using egg to seal, pierce a little hole in the tops to let out the steam. Cook at 180 fan or gas 6 for about 10 to 15 mins. Dust with sieved icing sugar when cool and enjoy with a glass of sherry!

Merry Christmas to everyone and a Happy and safe boating New Year!

As some people know, I am the owner of 2 ponies. One is a micro heavy horse, the other is an animated sock puppet, and they are currently causing me untold sleepless nights because one of them is very poorly.

I’m very fortunate that we have a good vet and modern medicines, and in the long, dark hours of the night sitting up with the patient, I’ve been thinking how it might of gone if we were back in the “golden age” of the canals.

Remembering of course that a newspaper wont publish a story unless it has a little bite to it, a very quick search of the newspapers using the keyword ‘boathorse’ brings up a plethora of court cases that show the darker side of horse boating, with headlines full of “brutal boatman” causing untold cruelty to animals, but pushing past the genuine cruelty you start to see some of the real veterinary story.

Horses are naturally rear-wheel drive, that is to say that their propulsion comes mostly from their back legs pushing them forward. Boating is collar work: a broad leather collar his goes around his neck and rests on his shoulders, from the collar two traces run down his side to the straight bar - the swingletree - that is coupled to the towline. To start off, he will lean his weight into the collar until the load comes on the traces, and then he’ll use the strength in his back legs to push himself forward into the collar to keep going.

With this in mind, it will be of no surprise to learn that one of the two most common problems a boathorse could suffer from was issues with his shoulders. An ill-fitting collar could rub the skin raw and quickly become an open sore through continued work, and the wrong size of collar could also put pressure against the shoulder joints and injure them.

When the horse was company owned, the boatman would simply swap the animal at the first chance he could. The treatment for those horses would generally be rest and having their collar changed. Where the horse was the only one a boatman had access to, it became more difficult.

That’s not to say a boatman would ignore the problem until the horse fell down, but he couldn’t lay the boats up as long as there was motive power. First of all he’d look at the collar. Sometimes he could ease the problem by pulling the stuffing out of the collar where the injury was, removing the pressure while the horse was working. If it wasn’t an open wound and he was feeling flush, he might just buy a bottle of rubbing lotion to take the pain way; the active ingredient in these was usually opium so it may well have worked.

Foot issues were the other common problem. Aside from the obvious problems of treading on stones or cinders, a horse’s hoof grows continuously and if it’s allowed to grow too long or is trimmed badly, it can force the horse to walk in an unnatural fashion, making him lame. By the same token, a horse who was shod (not all of them were, some boatmen swore that keeping their horses ‘barefoot’ was much better for the horse) could find the shoe come loose, come off completely or even just have it badly fitted, all of which would leave a horse limping on one or more feet.

These problems were the realm of the farrier. These men should not be confused with blacksmiths; a blacksmith is a smith who works with iron – for example gates or tools - but he may never work with horses, while the farrier is the equivalent of an equine podiatrist, and will know enough blacksmithing to make and fit horseshoes.

Farriers were often considered as good, or better, then vets and farriery books were often full of veterinary advice. By the same token, a vet would be given full tuition in basic farriery (and still is.)

In the 1930’s farriers became a little thin on the ground. A huge amount of the apprentices had been killed in the war, and the rise of the motor car made farriery seem an unstable career option. Getting a farrier full stop started to become difficult, let alone getting a good one, and reports increased of badly shod boathorses being worked while lame. A judge in London reduced the fine of a boatman found working a lame horse because the boatman had been seen to make a marked effort to find a decent farrier and was still working the horse out of necessity rather than active cruelty.

Canal stables, with their vast turnover of occupants from all over the country, could be rife with contagious illnesses, some of which were zoonotic and could spread to the humans as well. Ringworm is an unpleasant example, often known as rain scald, and its treatment was variously sulphur, iodine, turpentine or sometimes a mix of all three.

All working horses were at risk of stomach problems, from eating too fast or not getting enough to balance against their work, and boathorses also had a higher risk of eating things they shouldn’t. A mouthful snatched from the hedgerows of the towpaths and or grazing at the lockside as the boats came through; it was all too easy for a hungry, or greedy, horse to grab a mouthful of a toxic plant.

Colic was the general result. Colic is something of a catch-all description that basically means the horse has stomach ache, and caused by everything from drinking cold water to constipation, as well as being a bonus problem for serious complaints like liver disease. Every horse-keeper would have had his own recipe for a cure. One man’s immediate go-to was a salt-water enema for one end and a dose of liquid paraffin down the other, while another’s was a draught made of 3 parts whiskey, one part laudanum. Both men remarked that these were the same treatments they gave to their children, although the former noted that his wife wouldn’t suffer the same ministrations!

“what can I give him, poor as I am. If I were a shepherd, I would bring a lamb. If I were a wiseman, I would play my part, Yet what I can I give him, I give my heart”.

One reason for buying our narrowboat was to slow down time. Leave the mad rush of living in the South East and enjoy the tranquillity of the canals. We had a plan of where to go and what we would do, all at a slow pace you understand, but I did not expect it to be quite so protracted. Covid, family concerns and then finally the weather all hampered our progress and in the process I learnt that on a narrowboat you cannot do the dictating!

Our plan to get nb Naomhog to the River Wey for the winter, instead of taking a week took a month. I am not complaining – we moored for ten days outside the Anchor pub at Pyrford and another ten days at Dapdune Wharf, both great places to stay. The relentless rainfall during the month of November saw the river flood and the lock gates padlocked. There were a few windows of opportunity to move but they didn’t coincide with other plans we already had in place. November took on a strange hue as daily we would look at the weather conditions on the Wey. We learnt adaptability and to live in the moment. To do otherwise would have led to frustration and irritability. It reminded me that whatever our circumstances we have a choice as to our attitude towards them. We learned to value our time, partly because we unexpectedly had so much of it and we didn't want to waste it! In truth, we took a chance leaving it so late to get on to the River Wey, but it had made economic sense to wait until the beginning of November. A week earlier, the sun was shining, the rainfall was minimal and the River Wey would have been a breeze to travel along.

My mum, a Scot, was always economic and brought me up to be frugal and to shop cannily. Our childhood diet was rich in fruit and veg, leading me towards vegetarian cooking. Wearing extra layers of clothing, using hot water bottles and woolly hats for warmth, rather than central heating, reminds me of growing up in a cold draughty vicarage where we got dressed under the bedclothes! We may not want to return to that but it has become all too easy over the years to be profligate with our utilities. (Boating has really taught me the value of water!)

The choice between heating and eating is sadly on the increase, with the prospect of unpaid bills leading to anxiety and fear, especially for those with families to support. The fast approaching Christmas festivities, with continuous TV advertising telling us what we need to buy to have the perfect Christmas, compounds this problem. How to afford all the gizmos and gadgets that are on offer, wrapped in festive paper, that will eventually end up in landfill sites. There is a subtle pressure that encourages us to spend money to be happy. I may sound bah humbug, which I don’t really want to do. Rather, I would like us to be able to celebrate the Christmas season without it costing the earth and eroding our mental health.

Instead of worrying about how to afford to buy material presents, why not give the present of time? Time is our most precious gift because none of us know how much of it we have. To give our time to others is therefore a great gift. Taking time to listen to a friend in need; chopping up wood for someone’s stove; offering to do boat or clothes repairs; sharing a meal; walking a dog; lending a book. So many ways to show love in a non materialistic way. We all have different gifts to give.

The original message of Christmas is all about love - by sending his only son into our broken world, God showed his immense love for us all. In the relatively short span of years that Jesus walked this earth, he gave freely of his time modelling to us a selfless way to live, putting the needs of others before ourselves.

Whatever belief system we may have, this message is as vital today as it was over 2000 years ago - to love one another, to be kind, to bring hope into lives that may be hopeless and to share what we have with one another.

A present of time need not be too costly and you never know how much lasting joy it may give.

I’m back!
Let’s have a show of hands - who’s missed me?
Oh, no one eh?

Well never mind, I’ll carry on regardless, while you all uncomfortably shuffle your feet thinking of the mental anguish you’ve inflicted on me with your noncommittal attitude.
See, that’s better. I heard that, ‘where’ve you been?’ I’ll tactfully ignore the rest of the comment, ‘and why the bloody hell have you come back?'

I’ve been writing see, no not for this wonderful magazine, but plays. Yes, that’s right, plays as, ‘in the theatre.’ I’m a bit of a thespian don’t ya know.
What?
No, madam, those are ladies who fancy other ladies, a thespian is - oh, never mind.
Anyway, like I said, I’m back. And that brings me to the topic of this article, which is...
You again. What now?
No it’s not another ‘festive scribbling,’ as you so eloquently put it. I live not far from Wolverhampton and I haven’t heard Noddy Holder holler, ‘It’s Chrrrrristmassss’ yet.
No, this one’s a bit more serious I’m afraid.

You see - and I should say that this started in the spring - that I was a little perplexed.
A good friend of mine used to greet the Spring Equinox with the rather charming saying of, ‘Spring is sprung, the grass is riz, I wonder where the birdies is?’
And I did.
Wonder that is.
And I’ve spent most of the rest of the year wondering as well.

Now you may well say that there are more serious things to wonder and worry about. Climate change, the Ukrainian conflict, the cost of living crisis and the fact that number 10 Downing Street seems to have had a revolving door fitted.
But wonder I have.

Where for instance are all the ducks? Have you noticed as you’ve been cruising along the cut? It seems to me that there are considerably less than usual.

I notice these things you see, because as I wander the towpaths with Blue he likes to chase them. And he’s been getting considerably less exercise than in previous years, meaning that I have to do more walking. That’s Border Collies for you. He’s had to resort to chasing mountain bikers, and they’re not too happy about it I can tell you.

And it’s not just ducks. What about our little feathered friends that flit hither and thither midst the hedgerows, twixt the breaking of day and the lowering of eve’s dark mantle?
I know, that was nearly poetic wasn’t it?
There’s no tits - stop sniggering at the front. Or sparrows. Or swallows. Or kingfishers.
Crows - I think they’ve been murdered. I could go on.
O.k., there are a few about.
But not many.

And then I was watching the telly the other night and...
Pardon?
Not Strictly, no.
Not I’m A Non-Entity Get Me Out Of Here either.
How about that Hatt Mancock though eh? At least he’s been eating bollocks instead of talking it I suppose.

Anyway I was watching the news and they were talking about the feathered version of Covid. And I thought, ‘Oh dear.’ It made me really sad to be honest. No wonder there’s been a dearth of activity in our skies.
Christmas is coming, the goose is getting - well culled actually. Along with our turkey dinner (by the way, aren’t sprouts the devil’s testicles. Blaghh!)
And that ain’t fair either.
Why not?
I’ll tell you.
If one gets it, then the whole flock gets the chop. That’s just not cricket if you ask me.
​
Before you all start berating me, let me say that it is a terrible disease and a horrible way to go. But surely they won’t all get it? Surely there are some that are resistant? Shouldn’t they allow them to live in order to build up some immunity? I don’t know,
I’m not a vet, or a scientist, but it does seem crazy to me.

Let’s face it, I had Covid this time last year and DEFRA didn’t come marching along to this charming park home site adjacent the cut to have me and the rest of the inhabitants shot. (I have to call it a park home site officially - I call my place a caravan, but that gets the neighbours up in arms. We’ve gone posh).
Oh, and I did notice the murmuration of disappointment (see what I did there?) when I revealed that I hadn’t been shot. Thanks a bunch!

So I just wanted to say that when those of you who haven’t foregone the consuming of our fellow earthly companions in favour of piles of the devil’s you know what’s, please offer up a little prayer of thanks this Christmas for the meaty treat on your plate. She was one of the lucky ones. At least she made it to Christmas.

Got to go, I think I hear Noddy clearing his throat. Either that or they’re dredging the Staffs and Worcs again.

Have a good one folks.

I often wonder what Jim and Amanda would be doing at this time of year at the various times in their joint adventures. My guess is they could well be looking along the canal from one of the many narrow waisted red brick bridges that carry a path that comes from nowhere in particular and leads somewhere even less significant.

As darkness eventually falls they will probably return to the shelter of their little boat and brew yet another mug of tea before turning in for the night.

Maybe it's unexciting, but to them it would be a pleasure beyond words. The clearness of an autumnal night, with fresh air blowing gently across the back of their little boat was always something too good to miss for the pair in the early days. Many conversations were had, and stories shared by the soft light of one of the old hurricane lamps they had. Sometimes they would talk, and others they would just sit and look at the night sky.

Mayfly was, and is, an easy little boat to like, and though as fragile as the lifestyle that had been landed on the pair, she wasn't one to let her occupants down. No matter what the day had thrown at the two unlikely friends, it was hard for either of them not to enjoy the life they were now living.

One morning, some months later, there was still plenty of snow about when they woke up and it was clear that a bit more would come but, despite the cold, Jim and Amanda were in optimistic mood.
“You know it's a bit daft for us to have slept on Fly when we could have been warmer in...” Amanda said.
“But we both wanted to be here,” Jim replied, cutting her sentence a little bit short. “It doesn't have to make sense, nothing does. When you think of it, when does anything make sense even when you’re normal.”
“Well, Mr Diogenes, thanks for calling me a freak. I'm still bagging the toilet though!” Amanda laughed. “I really wish we could have taken that part of the bungalow with us.”

Jim looked across the short distance from Mayfly to the little wooden building that was not much more than a summer house. It was hard to believe that Amanda had lived there by herself only months previously, and harder to believe what had happened in the intervening period.
“Are you sure you didn't stash one in that bag of yours,” he laughed. “You seemed to have plenty of things in it!”
“If I’d known all of the stuff that was going to happen I might just have taken a screwdriver to it and pushed it in my bag and all,” Amanda laughed. “But then there’s all the plumbing.”
Jim was still deep in thought when he heard her footsteps crunching across the fresh snow towards the place. He eventually set about lighting the Primus stove for the first cup of tea ready for her return. He thought for a moment and then lit the other one as he started work on an idea that had flashed across his mind.

On her return, Amanda could hear the roaring, but waited until both stoves were off before she boarded the little boat.
“Was I really that long?” she asked.
“Why not enjoy the simple pleasure of a relaxed morning in the bog,” Jim smiled.
“I was thinking of doing a big fry up but then that probably wouldn't be all that sensible.”
“Not with Mum and Dad coming over,” Amanda laughed. “She said I looked really well when we got back, but I never could stop her trying to feed me up! That smells pretty good though Jimbo. What is it?” she asked as he handed her a plate.
“I was thinking of making something special, like an even bigger fry up than usual, then I remembered this one. It's sort of cinnamon toast only done in a frying pan,” he smiled.
“That and a mug of tea will hit the spot really well,” Amanda replied, looking across the stern of Mayfly and down the river. “Did we really just sail away like the owl and the pussycat and fix all that stuff? Or is this just a hallucination.”
“They didn’t have an outboard motor, but I heard some people say that all of life is an illusion, but I banged my head getting the cinnamon out from the deed box and that seemed pretty real,” Jim said.
“This toast seems pretty real too, and good. Eat yours whilst it's still hot won't you,” Amanda smiled.

The sky had been getting greyer as they spoke, and the crisp smell of frost began to give way to a slightly damper smell that was half river and half weather with a hint of boat and petrol thrown in for good measure. The first of the thick flakes of snow began to fall as Amanda finished her mug of tea and reached into her bag.
“I know we're skint,” she said, pulling out a couple of lengths of tinsel.
“It's O.K.” Jim replied, reaching into one of the other deed boxes and lifting out a very small artificial tree.
“Oh well,” Amanda laughed as they decorated the cockpit of their little boat.
“You'd better have this too,” she added, handing a little parcel to Jim.
“Thanks Mand,” Jim smiled, handing her a neatly wrapped package.
“Mayfly did us proud, she really did,” Amanda said thoughtfully. “Thanks for... Well just thanks.”
“Same goes to you, as well. I'm happy with the way it all turned out too,” Jim replied, “And you're right, I know what you're thinking.”
“We couldn't just ignore her, not today,” Amanda frowned. “Wouldn't be right.”
“Happy Christmas,” Jim said, kissing his friend.
“Yes Jimbo, it is one, and well, we should both, well... You know,” Amanda smiled, looking at Jim and then along the length of their little boat.
“Happy Christmas Mayfly,” they both said.

©2022 Michael Nye