An original and tattered copy of the Newbury Weekly News Centenary Supplement dated February 1967 has recently been discovered in Hungerford Town Hall. It contains the following article by David Barnes.

Newbury has seen many changes, mainly for the better, over the past 100 years, but one for the worse, in the opinion of many people, has been a steady decline in the use and maintenance of the Kennet and Avon Canal.

Gone for ever, but nor forgotten, are the days when a fleet of barges carrying thousands of tons called at Newbury every year as they plied between Reading and Bath on this once-important inland waterway linking the Thames with Avonmouth.

Older readers will recall the time when supplies were regularly unloaded for coal merchants at the Wharf and West Mills, corn was brought in from the farms to Dolton’s Mill and large quantities of gravel, sand and other building materials were invariably moved by barge.

Today, Newbury is one of the few places where the canal is still fully navigable for a few miles in each direction. Elsewhere, it is now a quiet backwater choked with weeds and rushes, but still a potentially valuable amenity appreciated most by fishermen and a band of enthusiasts dedicated to its eventual restoration.

Completed in 1810, it was hailed at the time as a masterpiece of civil engineering, consisting of 87 miles of waterway with 106 locks, 29 of them within 2½ miles at Devizes – and an aqueduct over the River Avon about a mile from Limpley Stoke.

For the next 30 years, the canal lived up to expectations that it would be a profitable commercial undertaking. In its heyday, 300,000 tons of merchandise passed along the canal, bringing prosperity to landowners, manufacturers, merchants and tradesmen who lived along the route and revenue of £70,000* in one year, 1832, to the owners, the Kennet and Avon Canal Company.

But by 1840, this golden era was drawing to a close. The advent of the Great Western Railway brought severe competition and a battle for survival between the railway promoters and the canal company.

Long struggles through the House of Commons and the Lords ended in 1851 when the Great Western Railway bought out the canal shareholders for less than a fifth of the million George III gold sovereigns it cost to build with the undisguised object of eliminating all competition.

From 1918 onwards the condition of the canal deteriorated to such an extent that the time taken to navigate it practically eliminated all commercial traffic.

The railway company continued, however, to pursue a policy of discouraging traffic to such an extent that before nationalisation there was rarely a canoe or rowing boat seen on the canal at Newbury.

With nationalisation in 1947, management of the canal became the responsibility of British Waterways. Its commercial use revived for a while, but in May 1950 it finally ceased completely when the Docks and Inland Waterways Executive closed a section between Reading and Newbury, ostensibly to repair some of the locks.

A second attempt in 30 years to close the canal, this time by the British Transport Commission in 1955, again met with widespread opposition. After protests and a petition, Parliament decreed that the canal must not be allowed to deteriorate beyond the state into which it had fallen.

In recent years, report has followed report in defence of the Kennet and Avon, but despite the thousands of words on the value of the canal as an amenity, its future is still uncertain.

The Kennet and Avon Canal Trust, who for years have been campaigning for the complete restoration of the canal, recently showed what could be done by rebuilding a derelict lock at Sulhamstead with prisoners and soldiers carrying out the work under the supervision of the British Waterways inspector at Newbury. This project was carried out so successfully that the Trust hope to repair other disused locks.

* over ten million pounds in today’s money

Readers may know that the K and A canal was eventually restored and opened by the late Queen in 1990 – I will write about its restoration in the next issue of Canalsonline.

“Last year,” Jim said calmly as he leant over the little outboard motor. “Last year when I did this, it felt like life wouldn’t ever be the same afterwards.”
“I remember when you turned up at the shop, and claimed to live on a boat and I thought you meant some kind of houseboat,” Amanda replied, calling to mind with affection the day that Jim had first come into her life.
“And it was a houseboat!” Jim protested. “Just not the sort you expected.”
“And if you want the truth, it still feels like home,” Amanda smiled. “Even as empty as she is. Let’s head for the island Jimbo.”

With that, they were off, cutting through the water at a good pace on a brisk morning. It was less than a year since Jim had first covered the journey in the newly restored Mayfly, the weather was different, and there was another person aboard, but that day replayed in his mind as he watched the now familiar scenery roll past. Then he had no plans beyond getting to Dave Harris’ home on the island, now he felt there was at last something more solid about life. Not exactly a certainty, but there was a confidence that he felt that things would somehow reveal themselves and resolve. Maybe not the way he expected, but resolve anyway. Standing in front of him, between the cabin doors, and leaning on the top deck was the reason for this.
“You look miles away Jimbo, you been drinking bilgewater again?” she joked, her hair unruly in the breeze.
“There isn’t any,” he smiled, looking to check that the work on the rivets had done the job.
“That, my love, just goes to show that I am right!” Amanda replied with a wink.

The run to the island was over all too soon, but the afternoon’s work was still to be enjoyed. By early evening the rest of the craft was ready for the moveable items to be restored to the correct places ready for any journey they may want to undertake. Most of the deed boxes that they had used as storage for anything from clothes to food were stacked neatly in the bungalow, and would remain there until required, but ropes, anchor and other sundries that turned the little varnished wooden boat into something more usable needed to go back aboard both for convenience and due to lack of storage ashore. A celebratory meal from Killer Ben’s chippy now seemed apt and dusk saw the pair returning to their home sharing from the newspaper insulated parcel...

The dream of drifting on water, like that of falling through clouds, is not uncommon, and is usually terminated by the dreamer waking with a start in completely familiar surroundings to the realisation that it was just a dream. The sun was out, the couple were amiably moving across calm water as if by magic. No motor was running, nor was there any rope to shore, just two people, a boat and...
“JIM! JIM! wake up! NOW!”

With more of a start than the normal finale of such imagination he was bolt awake to see Amanda less than an inch from his face, and darkness instead of sunshine.
“We’ve been cut adrift!” she shouted.

No more information was needed, and Jim was out of the cabin within seconds.

“We need to move… NOW!” he replied as grabbed the fuel tank, and scrabbled to connect the line to the outboard whilst Amanda cleared the canvas covers out of the way, pushing them hastily into the cabin. The order of choke, no choke, then half choke was second nature and the little motor, as if understanding the urgency of the situation, started without trouble. Amanda cast the big torch she had brought aboard around to get some orientation on where they were, which was drifting sideways, and rather too close to quite a large weir.

“Jesus!” Jim exclaimed as he put the motor in gear and swung the craft to point upstream before turning the throttle to full and disengaging the choke, hoping that the spark plug would not foul up due to his ham-fisted treatment of the thing. Although cold, it responded, pushing as much power as it had, first to halt the Mayfly in her journey to oblivion, and then to start putting some distance between her and the weir.

The roughness of sound mellowed slightly as the cylinder block slowly warmed through, and a little more power fed its way to the propeller. Amanda moved the torch around so that Jim could see the piling ahead, on which was mounted a large notice proclaiming the danger that they had come all too close to. Jim took the throttle back to a more sedate speed as they glided past the obstruction, close enough to clear the chain that crossed the channel as a further confirmation of the danger that lurked. From there the island was not too far and in a little over three quarters an hour, Mayfly was again tied up to the jetty, albeit with shorter lines but with an anchor thrown out for good measure.

“Thanks Mand,” Jim said with a distinct tremor in his voice. “You’re a gem.”
“You too. You just went for it,” Amanda smiled nervously, blocking the image of the all too fast approaching weir from her mind.

Almost as though they had both been standing in front of a neon sign that had just been illuminated for the first time the realisation of how close to death they had both been dawned simultaneously on them. For some time they just stood as their minds absorbed the situation, then came the embrace, almost long enough for Rodin to sculpt the two in stone. Silent, as tears rolled down both faces, they took in the fact that, as a result of both their actions, they were still there, as was the Mayfly which had not suffered so much as a single scratch.

We've had a disaster on board
There's egg all over the floor
The omelette pan took a dive
When a boat went past full bore

We thought our ropes secure
And that we couldn't possibly move
But said pan was on the middle ring
And it didn't stay in the groove

We've all got that ring on our hob
That's really not fit for purpose
Like trying to balance a saucer
On the back of a moving tortoise

It's a lot like living in a jelly
Stuff slides and shifts about
If someone goes past too fast
Cupboards open and things fly out

Now many shout at the boaters
that seem like they are in a race
And those that are not on tickover
Risk getting my egg on their face

If you're a boater with the zoomies
And behind you there is a wake
Lay off the throttle at moored boats
To reduce the chance of a culinary mishap.
For heavens sake

Fifty five years ago, construction of the Westway forced relocation of hundreds of North Kensington families, earning it a place in history as one of London’s Most Notorious Highways. Today it’s a cautionary tale for Planners and Engineers in how NOT to build public infrastructure … and also how to mitigate its impacts.

Skateboard parks, exercise facilities, shops and offices were eventually added to Westway undercrofts, integrating the highway into neighbourhoods along its length.

Except for a bit that swerves over the canal near Westbourne Park, which stayed notorious, and lately has gotten worse. Burnt, sunken vessels — relics of a remarkable conflagration a year and a half go — still block mooring on one side of the overpass. On the other side a patch of rubbish and construction debris swells and shrinks depending on how recently CRT has evicted the
responsible entity.

How does this cycle end? How does the community take possession of a unique public place? The only rainproof stretch of canal in all of London? Allowing it to fulfill its promise as a weatherproof showcase for commerce and performance? Something London needs more than ever in the post-Covid age?

With the 300+ mixed unit Taxi House development rising within view of the blight, Cheyne Capital has a stake in it, but no clear obligation; their primary obligation is to shareholders and tenants. The Canal and River Trust is obliged to maintain their towpath, but lacks enforcement power and funding. Borough government is the only one with the financial means to address the problem. It is their residents, after all, who benefit most from a beautiful towpath; and their residents who suffer from its absence.

So the City of Westminster must be applauded for developing London’s latest borough-wide strategy to improve the canal in service to constituents.

The ambitious plan, launched after Labour took over for the first time in borough history, details three ongoing projects and seven future ones. The Flyover is listed as high priority.

With borough funding, Your Canal Boat is getting a jump start. Beginning Sunday Feb 23, we present 30 free workshops at the site to demonstrate a different vision for the space, and to grow support for its use as a point of outreach addressing the NHS's new priority, an epidemic of loneliness and isolation estimated to account for 20% GP office visits.

Sessions run the gamut, from drama therapy and teaching your toddler to make music, to journalling, crocheting, mindfulness and cooking. Gerard Williams, the Running Mayor of RBKC, leads running and walking sessions every morning that use our host boat, “Bibo”, as bag drop and refreshment station.

The full program can be viewed here: One of London's most notorious highways

Our partners are “social prescription” advocates Golborne Medical Centre, who believe that doctors should dispense more than pills, including recommendations for time on the water. That’s consistent with something that boaters learned long ago, that the canal boat experience is its own tonic.

Dr. Yasmin Razak leads a lunchtime discussion on the 25th of February on the topic of the canal as a tool for social prescription. A second lunch forum on the 26th features Dr. Greg Cowan, architect, boater and lecturer at University of Westminster, giving a boater’s history of the Westway. Imperial College’s Luke Muscutt moderates a panel of architects dissecting various proposals for the Westway’s future.

Attendance for both discussions is free, but limited to 10. Write to admin@yourcanalboat.com if you’d like to be part of either one.