For Timothy West and Prunella Scales, nothing compares to narrow-boating.  Yet they both developed a passion for canal cruising for diametrically opposing yet surprisingly similar reasons: "I'm rather a 'snail' person," explains Prunella, "I like to carry my home with me.  I don't really like travelling, to do with childhood, being evacuated and careering round the world when my father was in the army."  Similar reasons had the opposite effect on Timothy; "I adore travel, having been evacuated and my father being an actor so it's strange really."

Neither Prunella nor Timothy's childhood love of boating stems from canals. "Not canals but rivers," says Timothy; "my father was very fond of boats.  We used to go on the Thames in launches."

Prunella fondly remembers the sea: "I've always had the most tremendous thing about water. " She says, "I remember when I was little wanting to sail around the world in a square-rigged ship. I grew up spending a lot of time by the sea and always longed to sail like the kids in Swallows and Amazons."
"I can crew, I do what I'm told, but I couldn't sail single-handed.  We took care that the boys went to sailing school when they were little to learn to sail properly.  But they love the canals as well.  We tend to think that people who sail in dinghies and yachts won't abide canal boats, but actually they love it."

Timothy explained what brought them to canals years later; "we were lent a boat by an actress friend on the Oxford canal when our kids were very young.  They had the most marvellous holiday, and the great thing was that they got so wonderfully tired, working locks and swing bridges."  Prunella agrees; "They'd have supper and go to sleep.  We'd chat and play chess or whatever and it was a wonderful holiday for us all."  They were hooked.  "That was our first canal holiday and we both fell for it completely and in the end bought a half share in that boat."
Some years ago, their son Joe, then aged ten, took his parents' instruction a little too literally when, while carrying a windlass in each hand, he fell into the canal.  "He was perfectly able to swim, actually quite a competent swimmer, but he'd been told never to drop a windlass," says Prunella.  "He sank like a stone," laughs Timothy, "and as he came up for the third time, we had to tell him to drop them!"

"Canal people are tremendously helpful," says Timothy, "and there's a community and if you're in trouble, they'll always help you."  Timothy explained that they were grateful for such help last year;  "we lost a mooring and the boat drifted out into the middle of the canal with nobody on board."  Fortunately for both, a passing canoeist came to their rescue, recovering the mooring rope.

Timothy obviously draws an enormous pleasure at the helm.  "There's just enough to do to think that you're not being carried along on somebody else's say-so.  There's a certain amount of skill involved in navigating a narrow boat and handling all the locks and bridges is interesting and informative.  You learn an awful lot about a fascinating and important part of our economic and engineering heritage which has really been alive in more or less the same kind of way since the 1770s or before."
"What I love about the canal system is that you're always seeing England from the back.  If a river is an actual thoroughfare of a town or village, the canal is its service road.  You find bits of a town or a village or a city that have not really altered around a canal because nobody goes there much anymore.  Since the mercantile aspect of canals has tailed off, you find wonderful old wharves and warehouses, cranes and landing stages, which have just stayed as a forgotten monument to Victorian technology."

"On the other hand," adds Prunella, "out in the open country it's instant countryside and deep countryside.  The flora and fauna and the birds, on the whole, are quite specialised, and there are plants you see along the canal you don't see in other places."

Both are well known for their association with the Kennet and Avon canal, and Timothy explains their special relationship with this waterway: "I went with old school friends in Bristol in the early 1950s to the first meeting of the Kennet & Avon Canal Society.  It was saving the canal at that time from a Government Bill planning to abandon the canal completely.  The meeting was held at the bottom of Widcombe Lock in Bath.  It was a very lively meeting, the Bishop of Bath and Wells spoke and Tudor Ede MP who was then, I think, Home Secretary, spoke very movingly.  There was a very strong faction of farmers who had begun to feel that the canal bed was their own and they didn't want it open at all.  They were quite vociferous, and a fight broke out in which one of the farmers was actually 'ditched' into the dry, but very muddy, Widcombe Lock."

The meeting sufficiently impressed Timothy to keep a watchful eye on its proceedings and progress.  "Then I heard that it was getting on and that things were getting done," he says.  "Of course, restoring the canal is one of the major engineering feats of this century.  It's absolutely astounding what's been done in terms of rebuilding and reclaiming back the route of the canal."  "Dredging and sealing, building locks, building bridges, reclaiming wharves and aqueducts.  But particularly, of course, the enormous staircase of locks at Caen Hill, which in anybody's terms is a major engineering feat."

When finally, the canal re-opened in 1990, Timothy and Prunella's boat was the first to travel the entire length of the Kennet and Avon, all but for a 400-yard stretch encompassing lock 43 at the summit of the Caen Hill flight.  "The four hundred yards were reserved for the Queen to open," explains Timothy.  "We were craned out and taken on the back of a low loader through the streets of Devizes and put back in the canal."  The Queen officially re-opened the Kennet and Avon canal by navigating through lock 43 on the 8th of August 1990.  Timothy emphasises the role of volunteers in canal restoration, citing his own experience of the K&A:  "It was restored almost entirely by voluntary work under the direction of skilled engineers."

But do they think commercial carrying will ever return to the canals?  They both doubt it.  "Canals are only really viable if you can take the goods by rail to a rail-head where you can load it immediately onto barges," believes Timothy.  If you've got to put it onto a lorry, you might as well drive the lorry to the destination."  "But also, the expense," adds Prunella, "two men to carry coal from Manchester to London is terribly expensive, to put it on a train is infinitely more sensible, economic, and efficient."  Nevertheless, they do believe there is a place for commercial carrying, as Timothy pointed out: "If you don't mind things happening at a slower pace and both you and your business co-respondent live on the canal, it's the obvious way to do it."

Neither would see living on their narrow boat as a permanent 'home' because of the hectic and varied nature of their work, though they have from time to time.  "When we were living on it while working in Bristol," explains Prunella, "we were rehearsing a very, very difficult play and we were iced-up.  But we were very warm, and very comfortable because we've got bottled gas central heating."  They were in fact better off than the rest of the cast, as Timothy pointed out; "They'd all been frozen up in their digs.  They used to come on board for a shower because our water was okay.  We were in a marina, which was snowed over.  There were a couple of inches of thick ice, and snow all over that.  Around us, there was this little one-inch 'moat' generated by the heat from the hull, and we were very comfortable."

They have travelled the canal system quite extensively and have in the past taken their boat by road quite a long way.  "There are a few land-locked canals we'd like to try," they say, "but if you do own your own boat, it means either craning it out or hiring someone else's boat, which doesn't feel quite right."  The Monmouth and Brecon Canal is one of Timothy's ambitions, while Prunella would like to try the Chichester Canal.

They've owned their current boat for over ten years.  "It was built for us," explains Timothy, "custom built onto a standard steel hull and our friend Barry Morse of Morse Marina in Banbury fitted it out."

And what would Timothy West and Prunella Scales have to say to people who see canals as dirty ditches and narrow boats as cold and comfortless?  "Try it," they say, "Just try it."

The boat gently rocks, water lapping on the hull. It's late and dark. Somewhere nearby an owl gently hoots. Then, in the blackened stillness, the boat starts to move. A passing boat? An uninvited boarder? Or perhaps one of the hundreds of ghosts and spectres on our waterways.

Richard Hill investigates...

Perhaps one of the most famous waterway ghosts is that of Christina Collins. Christina was murdered on 17th June 1839, aged 37 years. Her body was found in the Trent & Mersey Canal at Brindley Bank near Rugeley. Three boatmen, James Owen, George Thomas and William Ellis, were convicted of her murder. Two were hanged, the third transported. At the point where Christina's body was taken from the canal, there was a flight of sandstone steps (alongside the more recent concrete steps). Christina's blood ran onto and down the steps, and even today it is believed that on occasions, traces of her blood can still be seen. These steps became known as the 'Bloody Steps'. It is believed that a ghost makes presence here. Christina's ghost perhaps, or perhaps that of one of her murderers.

Another well-known ghost is that of Kit Crewbucket, a lady boggart of canal tunnels. She has often been reported as haunting the Harecastle Tunnel and sometimes is believed to be the spectre that appears in Crick Tunnel.

At Astley in Manchester, a grey lady appears searching for something near the canal. She may be the ghost of eighteen-year-old Ann Mort who died of a broken heart after her parents banished her suitor because he was a Catholic. In Cheshire, a hideous figure wearing a black shawl emits a terrifying cackling laugh at Buttermilk Bridge. This is the ghost of a woman who sold buttermilk to the navvies constructing the canal here. In Chester, where the canal (which was dug into part of the moat) passes near to Northgate, the last Roman sentry can still be seen guarding the entrance to the city.

The Shropshire Union has plenty of eerie hauntings. At Bridge 39, the famous double arched bridge, a black creature is said to appear as a phantom. This is the ghost of a boatman who was drowned here in the 19th century.

Boatmen are reported to have always feared Betton Cutting near bridge 66 of the Shroppie. Perhaps their fear is justified by various reportings over the years of a 'Shrieking Spectre'. A more recent phantom is that of an American pilot who appears in the Shroppie between Wheaton Aston and Little Onn at the spot where he crashed his plane during the Second World War. Another wartime pilot, but this time headless, appears on the south bank of the Coventry canal, between bridges 90 and 91.

Staying in Shropshire, but changing waterways, on the River Severn at Ironbridge, a phantom Trow can be seen drifting slowly. The boat is laden with corpses, piled high. At the tiller is a faceless hooded helmsman, believed to be transporting the bodies of plague victims.

Moving westward to the Llangollen canal and on moonlit nights, a figure can often be seen 'gliding' along the towpath on the Pontcysyllte aqueduct. The form often disappears suddenly, but has never been seen leaping off the aqueduct. At Clifton Gorge, where many have been known to end their lives by jumping off the Clifton Suspension Bridge, none have been reported as ghost stories. Yet the gorge has two known apparitions: one, a pilot who died in 1957 while attempting to fly under the bridge, the other of Brunel who designed the bridge. Brunel is said to haunt Leigh Woods nearby.

Boatman have always dreaded the River Wye near Hereford, particularly in the evening. What they feared was the experience of seeing the macabre 'Spectre's Voyage', for to do so meant certain death. Their fatal vision was that of a young shrouded woman, gliding past, against wind and flow.

The Thames, as one might expect, yields many apparitions. At Cheyne walk, upstream of Battersea Bridge is the ghost of a bear, believed to be one of the poor creatures forced into bear-baiting which took place here in the 16th century. Further downstream, below Westminster Bridge, echo the screams of pain of a figure jumping into the Thames from Cleopatra's Needle. Though never a splash is heard, the leap is often followed by wicked howls of laughter. At Limehouse, a ghost is seen at summer sunsets. This is the vicar of Ratcliff Cross who ran a refuge for sailors, and who murdered those with money. He dumped their bodies into the Thames at Ratcliff Cross Stairs. Much further downstream, in September each year, the screams of many can be heard at Thamesmead. These are the 640 souls who perished here when the pleasure steamer Princess Alice went down in 1878.

To Kent, near the confluence of the Thames and Medway, the Chatham Dockyard, Nelson is said to haunt the yard as is a ghost in the Flag loft. This is probably the youngest ghost, appearing since a supervisor who worked here died in 1990. The supervisor had an unnatural habit of digging his subordinates in the ribs if they did not work hard.

And finally, to East Anglia, where there are many reported spiritual sightings and experiences. In Norwich, the cellars of the pub opposite Bishop's Bridge are said to have been used as dungeons in the 16th century. Hundreds were believed to have been imprisoned here before being burnt alive in nearby Lollards Pit. The ghost of at least one of these wretched souls haunts here. There are ghosts all over the Broads; a drummer boy drums on frosty nights at Hickling Broad. At Oulton Broad the ghost of writer George Borrow, dressed in long cloak and distinctive wide brimmed hat, can often be witnessed. At Ludham, opposite the confluence of the rivers Bure and Thurne, resides the ghost of a monk, who betrayed St Benet's Abbey to the Normans. At Nun's Bridge at Huntingdon in Cambridgeshire, on a tributary of the Ouse can be seen the phantom of a nun and a monk. Both were killed, and their ghosts have been witnessed here. In nearby Holywell, a white lady appears in ‘Ye Olde Ferryboat Inn’ on the 17th March each year. She points at her own gravestone in the pub, before leaving and vanishing down the river.

Undoubtedly readers will know of more and many have written to the author about them. It is a chilling thought that so many exist.

(first published in 1996, but re-published here with the kind permission of Richard Hill)

Richard Hill tells the story of his grandfather, George Wiseman whose job was operating the horse-drawn boat Bournville 5 carrying milk to the busy Cadbury processing plant in Knighton on the Shropshire Union Canal a hundred years ago in the 1920s.

Anyone who's cruised the Shroppie between Bridge 45 and the Shebdon Embankment through Staffordshire will have come across a deserted canopy, its castellated fringe reaching out of the trees on the north bank. Approaching from the east, boat owners will have noticed a large glazed industrial plant concealed behind. Approached from the west and the canopy remains hidden by trees until reached, but the rising industrial noise may give a hint of something up ahead. This was part of the Premier Beverage plant, accessible only by road. In the 1920s however, this was the busy processing plant of Cadbury Limited. Milk was collected from local farms along the Shroppie and brought to this plant for processing into crumb chocolate which was then taken by canal to the Cadbury Bournville factory for further refinement into the world-famous Cadbury's chocolate.

One of the boatmen working on the canal from here was my grandfather, George Wiseman. After serving in World War One he went back to his old job of collecting milk for a cheese processing plant in Gnosall from local farms by horse-drawn narrowboat. The wages were not good. When an opening for similar work became available at the Cadbury Knighton factory, George applied. The terms offered by Cadbury were much better and George was taken on. George and his wife Evelyn lived in Norbury with their family, two sons Henry and Bernard and daughters Joyce, Dorothy, Janet, and Elizabeth.

A short walk across the field started George's working day at Norbury Junction where the horse was stabled and the boat Bournville 5 moored. Work started at 6 a.m. The horse was groomed, tackled and prepared to haul the boat load of 150 empty milk turns to the start of the collection at High Onn (bridge 25). Churns full of milk were left by the milk farmers at High Onn wharf and collecting points along the canal. Gradually, as the boat made progress towards Knighton, churns, each one labelled by the farmer, were loaded onto the boat, and empty churns deposited for the following days collection. Once the boat arrived at the Cadbury Knighton plant the full churns were unloaded, the quantity and quality of each checked before being emptied and processed. It was these checks that would determine the payment to be made to each farmer each month. The empty churns remained inverted for cleaning before passing on to a conveyor that would carry them up to the top of a storage tower. The churns were stacked on the helical track, gravity carrying them back down to the bottom for redistribution, a sort of giant ‘helter skelter’ for empty milk churns. Once empty the boat was reloaded with empty churns from the bottom of the tower in preparation for the following days collection. George the boat and horse returned to Norbury Junction. The horse was stabled, the boat moored and George finished for the day usually around three to four pm.

In 1925 at the age of six George's eldest daughter Joyce had scarlet fever. George could not live at home for the period while the virus was contagious for fear of carrying it to the other families. He went to live at ‘The Junction Pub’ at Norbury Junction which was run by his father and mother, Henry and Mary Wiseman. Today this is a busy pub and restaurant but then it was a small pub on a small farm holding of 14 acres.

One of the perks of Cadbury employees was being able to buy cheap chocolate particularly when it was rationed during the Second World War. Employees could make a monthly purchase of three or four 2-pound bags of misshapen chocolate, each bar bag marked ‘Not for Resale’ and costing George about one shilling a bag.

Another purchasable product was ‘crumb’ chocolate, the product of the factory made from cocoa beans, sugar and milk. This was sent to the Bournville factory, by motorised narrowboat, for final processing into chocolate bars. George's son Bernard recalled the crumb chocolate as an occasional treat: “It looked like sandstone but tasted lovely.”

Each summer Cadbury would host a summer fete for the children of their employees on the field high on the bank opposite the factory. Between egg and spoon or sack races the children would look down and wave to their fathers working at the plant. The highlight of the day was a trip on the canal in one of the horse-drawn narrow boats.

The milk collecting routine continued daily through each season. The canal was a vital part of the dairyland community. In winter an ice breaking boat would clear the canal for the daily working traffic but in the winter of 1929 even the icebreaker was outdone by the weather and the milk had to be collected by road. Perhaps Cadbury recognized the opportunity as a more efficient form of transport or perhaps for other reasons, the milk collection was slowly transferred from canal to road.

Following Bournville 5’s final collection, George was transferred to work at the plant itself, loading and unloading lorries with milk chocolate crumb and other imports and exports from the factory. By now George lived in Knightley some eight miles from the factory. In the 30 or so years of working a country he was late for work only once. On the 12th of February 1955 while motorcycling to work he collapsed and died having suffered a heart attack. George enjoyed his work and died probably the way he would want. His children, now all sadly passed themselves, remembered him as a fine man, Cadbury as a good employer and a manufacturer of fine chocolate, so much so that my mother Dorothy, never bought chocolate other than that made by Cadbury.