It’s a beautiful, wonderful canal morning – not that many of the other boat-users would appreciate this as it’s only 4.00am – and we must be off within the hour! We set off precisely at 5.00am. It’s a quiet, misty, even mystical morning as the sun starts to peep through the rising mist and distant trees - and as Errwood cuts through the water, her engine humming. Bosley is slightly delayed but is only a few minutes behind.

For me, it’s one of the most enjoyable and invigorating aspects of canal cruising – as the occasional moorhen scuttles into the reeds, sensing our approach. As the low sunshine filters through the lightening sky, it feels good to be alive! The ‘spare’ skippers in the bows seem almost redundant, as one tricky bend after another is negotiated with ease, as we press on to catch up on time we lost the previous day.

We then arrive at a single lock, which Dave quickly deals with, before he races on to raise the Norton Green Lift Bridge which we glide through, before waiting to pick him up. By now I notice that some of the kids are awake, and a couple have even come around to the back galley – presumably to get breakfast started. Our next task is to navigate Long Butts Lift Bridge. I pull the bow close into the side, for Dave to hop off, run ahead and lift the bridge. We glide through as before – and wait for Dave to lower the bridge and rejoin us. We seem to have got these lift bridges sorted – but on this occasion Dave remains on the other side of the canal, trying to lower the bridge, but with little success.

He calls out to me:

“It went up alright, but I can’t lower it – it’s stuck!” which means that Dave is also stuck on the other side, and unable to get back to the boat. But he is a big, muscular guy, so I hold the boat steady to give him more time. Just then the waft of cooked bacon reaches me from the galley below. I can see that Dave is still struggling so I call out to him that I will reverse up, to let him step aboard, leaving the lift bridge ‘up’ – which Bosley (behind) can use in a few minutes time. So I put Errwood into full reverse, to go and collect Dave.

At that precise moment, I feel a tap on my leg from the galley down below – it’s my breakfast! I think it best if I gratefully receive it, rather than risking further taps – or even a yank. I stoop down as I’m handed the crispy bacon sandwich – as the boat continues to reverse. But as I turn round I see that - to my horror - Dave has managed to lower the bridge (several tons of solid steel) and has walked across it. By now Errwood is reversing fast towards the lowered steel bridge. I immediately throttle the engine forward, to slow the reverse. But too late! The boat keeps reversing, and a collision is inevitable. For a split second I think about trying to fend off the collision with an outstretched leg – but I think the better of it. It was a good call for, as a recent writer puts it:

“A boater’s instinct should be never to risk any part of themselves – hand, arm, leg – being trapped, crushed and mangled between the slow-moving but steam-hammer power of laden boats. This is really the one great danger of canals, (as) I snatched my arm back inboard.” [53a]

Dave and I both watch and wonder what is going to happen . . . . . . First, the back-fender slides under the bridge – so what’s next? THE TILLER! So as the boat continues its way under the heavy steel bridge, the bridge strikes the tiller at its base, then bends the tiller forwards. Next, with A CRACK AND A BANG the tiller shears off at its base, flies through the air, and straight into the galley with a crash!! Dave and I stare at each other in disbelief. Thankfully, no-one in the galley appears to have been hurt; also thankfully, the tiller did not fall into the canal. But I’m in a state of shock, wondering what we do now? And, as cruise leader, what do I do now?

With both boats eventually moored up, the four skippers discuss our next steps. Clearly we need the tiller welded back on to Errwood. So I will find the nearest phone-box to try to arrange that – although it’s only 6.30! Meanwhile, the others will breast up the two boats, using Bosley’s steerage, which will take the boats up to the next lock at Stockton Bridge, where a nearby main road will be useful for a welder to gain access.

Before I leave the scene, I decide to wash down my now lukewarm bacon sandwich with my now lukewarm cup of tea. The kids all think this a great adventure – not realising that their trip to Alton Towers may be in jeopardy.

At the phone box I quickly scan the Yellow Pages for ‘Welders’ and find several names. My initial conversations could have been something from Monty Python or Fawlty Towers:

Me: Hello, I’m needing a welder – urgently!
Welder: Don’t we all sir! Don’t we all!?
Me: How soon can you make it?
Welder: I don’t ‘make’ anything sir – I just weld things together that already exist!
Me: Yes, yes – but I’ve got a tiller that needs welding back on
Welder: Back on where sir?
Me: On a boat of course! What else would you weld a tiller to?
Welder: I don’t know sir. Haven’t thought about it much.
Me: Well think! Please think! When can you come and fix it?
Welder: I’m free a week on Tuesday sir – is that any good to you?
Me: Goodbye! As I slam the receiver down...

Fortunately, after several similar phone-calls, I find a welder who can come to the boat in about two hours time with the welding taking up to an hour. That’s three hours on top of what we’ve already lost. While I’m at the phone box, I do a few swift calculations and then phone the coach company, and ask them to collect us at Cheddleton, at 2.00pm not Froghall. There’s no way we will reach Froghall, but we might just make Cheddleton by then. So that’s agreed, as we wait for the welder to arrive, do his welding - and finish.

Let’s hope that’s the end of our troubles for this particular school canal cruise. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the end - it wasn't even the beginning of the end. It was just the end of the beginning of our trials that lay around the ‘next bend’ - and the bend after that . . . . . . . . . . .

Adapted from:

The Curious Incident of the Bacon Butty, a Broken Tiller and a Mid-life Crisis
By: James Adams
Published by: Quantum Dot Press - late Autumn 2026.

This journey started 3 years ago, but I'm going to fast-forward to last Friday. I'm travelling on my own up the M6 motorway on the way to an Electric Boat Association rally in Windermere. I'm towing DB1, a prototype boat we've built. I catch myself smiling — a really big, cheesy grin. I'm happy, very happy.

I'm Tim Knox, the director of two small marine businesses — Mothership Marine, which builds electric boats, and Torkmar, which builds systems for them. I'm also Secretary of the Electric Boat Association, which runs a calendar of rallies for owners around the country.

The rally, on Windermere, doubles as a testing day for DB1. I launch her at Ferry Nab on the Friday night ahead of a Saturday start. DB1 is joined by two others for a run to the head of the lake and back, with lunch in between. Always lunch in between. The numbers DB1 returned were hard to ignore. By the time the three boats reach the top of the lake, DB1's batteries are nearly full, having run almost entirely on power from its solar roof. Cruising at around four miles an hour, DB1 uses roughly 350 watts to motor; the other two boats, which incidentally are smaller, use at least double the power.

Soon, I'll be setting off from Lechlade with my wife and inspiration behind this boat (she hates boats). I'm trying to build one she likes. We aim to travel the entire navigable length of the River Thames to Teddington without ever plugging in. It's a big test. DB1 is a lovely-looking boat, but she runs very much against current industry thinking. She also has a lowering solar hard canopy that pops up and down in seconds. My wife hates the faff at the start and the end of a boating day!

Most electric motors on the market try to emulate combustion motors. This is a mistake. My thinking is to start with the propeller. Props are not just about thrust — they are about lift too. A well-shaped propeller acts like a wing, pulling the boat forward as well as thrusting back. A larger prop flies better but also thrusts more gently and more efficiently.

Driving a large propeller well means you need torque. I think the industry has largely forgotten this and is fixated on how fast a motor can spin. DB1 pairs an oversized propeller with a high-torque motor that turns slowly, easing the boat forward with very little wasted energy.

Solar on a boat can look ugly. DB1 has 716 watts of capacity on the roof, built into the canopy so as not to announce itself. It's attractive and very functional.

The hull shape is disruptive too. At 19 feet 6 inches long and 7 feet 4 inches across the beam, DB1 is unusually wide for her length. But her width makes her comfortable for those on board, and stable. Cunningly, this size just fits into a 20' shipping container. Doubly cunning, we can fit two in one container and export all over the world for not much money.

Some people like mountains, some like nightclubs, I like water. It calms me, makes me happy. Boats with combustion motors going fast are fun — going fast takes your mind off the noise and the stink. These boats are about getting to the destination. DB1, the boat, is the destination. Being on the Thames is a tonic; it is the destination. That said, my wife of 39 years, with good reasoning, insists we stop at some nice hotels on the river, of which there are plenty.

I'm nervous. It's a new boat, and there are lock restrictions due to water shortages. Global warming? If it is, one thing is for sure: DB1 is not to blame!

There is a range indicator on the motor display; if we are getting more power in from the sun than the motor is using, the display shows an infinity symbol. If we get to Teddington with our batteries fully charged that's infinity and maybe beyond. Because, if all goes well, I am seriously tempted by the tidal Thames.

But not my wife!

Torkmar builds direct-drive high torque PMAC motors and complete electric systems | motor, battery, solar, and power hub | guaranteed to work together.

+44 7311 390840
sales@torkmar.com
www.torkmar.com

My fuel tank is near empty
and my leisure batteries are low
The toilet cassette's brimming over
but my bladder still says 'go'

The day's light is fading quickly
I'm on a countdown clock
My solar power's dipping
and there's something round my prop

I've a dwindling kindling pile
And I'm getting short of coal
I've burnt all of the Tow Path Talks
And run out of toilet roll

I've been double dipping t-bags
Eating pot noodles for my tea
The gas is on the blink
And it's ever so draughty

I'm living on an angle
Sleeping on a tilt
There's little water in the cut
and I'm wallowing in silt

I'm a prisoner on my boat
My gang plank's fallen off
May have to use my barge pole
To vault myself across

Some may think it rough
With no hot water on demand
And patchy phone reception
No WiFi nor broadband

But the benefits trump the hardships
I'm happy and healthy
I won't swap for bricks and mortar
It's a boater's life for me

Hello Autumn.

After an incredible Summer, we have eased into Autumn nicely and resumed some sort of normality in the galley now that comfort food is back on the menu.

It’s surprising how much warmth the hob and cooker give off, but nothing beats a one-pot meal simmering slowly over the stove.

Those comforting, earthy Autumn scents and shades are beginning to emerge, and the hedgerows are jewelled with ripe berries, giving us the fruits for preserves and Autumn bakes.

The dewy mornings and chilly evenings bring out those comfort-food cooking vibes. We are enjoying heartier meals made with the season’s root vegetables, squashes and fruits. It’s the time of year for warming spices such as cinnamon, ginger and cloves, which all pair well with slow cooking and seasonal fruits.

The brassica family of vegetables is in season now, with cabbages and kale full of nutritional goodness, cauliflower and broccoli making great additions to soups and gratins, and sprout season is nearly here.

Seasonal Autumn food is all about warmth, richness and comfort, and I love it! Comfort food is the theme of the recipes I’m sharing, and there are more via the bio at the bottom of the page.

Carrot Ginger & Fennel Soup

1 tbsp olive oil
1 small onion, finely chopped
3 medium sized carrots, about 200g, roughly chopped
½ fennel bulb, sliced, reserve a little for garnish, or 1 tsp fennel seeds ground in a pestle and mortar 2 to 3 (depending on size)
garlic cloves, crushed
1 tsp grated fresh ginger
½ tsp each salt and pepper
1 small tbsp maple syrup or honey
600ml vegetable stock

• Fry the onion in the oil for 5 minutes until soft, add the salt and pepper, followed by the garlic, fennel and carrots.
• Fry for a few minutes more, without burning and add the ginger and stock.
• Bring to the boil and then simmer for about 15 to 20 minutes.
• Add the syrup or honey, allow to cool slightly, then blitz to a smooth consistency.
• Check the seasoning, add more if preferred and more stock for a thinner soup.
• Thinly slice the reserved fennel and fry in a little butter, or dry fry extra fennel seeds to garnish.

Roast spiced squash soup with tofu croutons

1 butternut squash, peeled and diced
1 sweet potato, peeled and cubed
2 tbsp coconut oil
50g unsalted butter
¼ tsp dried chilli flakes
½ tsp paprika
Sea salt and ground black pepper
1 onion peeled and diced
2 to 3 cloves garlic, peeled and sliced
1 litre vegetable stock

For the croutons:
1 pack tofu 4 or 5 sage leaves, finely chopped
Pinch chilli flakes
Cornflour for dusting
1 tbsp oil

• Begin by coating the diced squash and sweet potato with 1 tbsp of the oil, half the butter, the seasoning, chilli flakes and paprika.
• Roast in the oven for 20 mins.
• Meanwhile, heat a large pan and add the remaining butter and tbsp coconut oil, gently fry the onions for a few minutes to soften but not brown, add the garlic and cook for a couple more minutes.
• Add the roasted squash and sweet potato and the stock to the pan.
• Bring to the boil and then simmer for 10 minutes.
• If you prefer not to use the oven, just fry for about 5 minutes, but roasting gives a better result.
• For the tofu croutons, use strong kitchen paper or a clean cloth to squeeze out as much moisture from the tofu as possible, repeat until it’s workable into a long oblong shape, flatten and cut into squares.
• Dust each piece with the cornflour, chilli flakes and chopped sage.
• Carefully fry in the hot oil for a few minutes, turning, to crisp up the edges and serve over the soup.

The following two recipes can be cooked using a cast iron skillet, or a good deep frying pan. Either way they finish nicely in the oven and can be enjoyed with crisp greens or some crusty bread. Soda bread is really quick and easy to make when you fancy homemade bread without the waiting time for the dough to rise.

Red onion and sweet potato frittata

75ml olive oil
1 large red onion, thinly sliced
1 tsp sea salt
1 (or 2 depending on size) sweet potato, peeled and thinly sliced into discs
4 eggs, lightly beaten
½ tsp smoked paprika
½ tsp ground nutmeg
Freshly ground black pepper

• Par boil the potato slices in a pan just to take away the rawness, making sure they stay whole in the process. Drain and allow to dry thoroughly. They can be cooked with the onions, but I prefer this way as it’s quicker.
• Heat the oil in a skillet and add the onion and salt, cook gently to soften for about 5 minutes, stirring as they cook.
• Add the paprika, nutmeg and freshly ground black pepper, then the well drained potatoes.
• Distribute the onions amongst the potatoes in the pan and then pour the beaten eggs over the top.
• Continue to cook over a low hear for about 10 minutes until the frittata is cooked through.

Leek, Potato and Smokey Bacon bake

500g potatoes
2 leeks, trimmed and sliced
1 small onion
6 rashers of smoked bacon, cut into 2cm pieces
1 tbsp each oil and butter
½ tsp each sea salt and ground black pepper
½ tsp dried thyme
1 generous tsp wholegrain mustard
1 cup milk
2 eggs
1 or 2 slices brown bread, a few days old, made into rough breadcrumbs.
130g smoked cheddar cheese

• Halve or quarter the peeled potatoes, depending on size, into similar sized pieces, bring to the boil and cook until just tender. Drain well, smash to break up a little.
• Meanwhile, heat the butter and oil in a skillet and fry the onions and leeks to soften.
• Add the bacon pieces, seasoning and thyme, continue to stir round the pan to cook.
• Stir in the cooked potato.
• In a separate bowl, beat the eggs with the milk and add the mustard, breadcrumbs and cheese.
• Pour the eggy mixture over the skillet and bake in the oven for 30 to 40 minutes until bubbling underneath and crispy on top.

Thai Yellow Curry

A Thai curry would usually have lemongrass and lime leaves, but I have used curry leaves which work well. This recipe works well with white fish, or use vegetables such as cauliflower with chick peas, sweet potato or kale for a vegetarian version. By marinading first, much more depth of flavour will be created.

For the Marinade

1 tsp turmeric
1 tsp garam masala
½ tsp chilli powder
Juice 1 lime

For the Curry

2 tbsp coconut oil
1 onion, finely sliced
1 or 2 fresh Thai or finger chillis, red or green, finely sliced
3 garlic cloves, minced
2cm piece ginger, peeled and finely grated
½ tsp fenugreek seeds
½ tsp black mustard seeds
Pinch salt and pepper
1 tsp turmeric
1 tsp garam masala
1 tin full fat coconut milk
Handful cherry tomatoes, about 6 or 8, halved

Marinate the fish or vegetables in the spices and lime juice, leave for at least two hours.

• • Using a lidded pan, heat the coconut oil and cook the onion with a pinch of salt until translucent, for about 5 minutes.
  • Add the mustard and fenugreek seeds, stir round the pan for 30 seconds, then add the seasoning, turmeric, garam masala, chillis, ginger and garlic, fry for no more than 1 minute, before adding the tinned coconut and cherry tomatoes.
  • Simmer for about fifteen minutes, with the lid on, add the vegetables at this stage if using, or the fish for the last five minutes.
  • Serve with rice or greens and a sprinkling of fresh coriander leaves.

Chicken Chorizo and Barley Hot Pot

As the weather turns cooler, this is hearty comfort food at its best, and it can be cooked over the stove.

Chicken thighs or drumsticks, skinless and boneless, about 500g, cut into bite-sized pieces
150g chorizo, sliced into thick chunks, from a dry cured whole chorizo ring
1 tbsp olive oil
1 small red onion, finely chopped
2 carrots, diced
1 celery stick, finely chopped
1 heaped tsp smoked paprika
3 garlic cloves, crushed
½ red pepper, finely chopped
½ tsp dried thyme
¾ cup, about 140g pearl barley, rinsed well
200g potatoes, cut into large chunks
1 tsp each salt and pepper
1 tin tomatoes
500ml stock

• Using a large lidded pan or pot, heat the oil, fry the chorizo for a couple of minutes to crisp up the edges and release the oils, then lift out and keep to one side.
• Add the chicken, onion, carrots and celery and gently cook for about 5 minutes.
• Stir in the paprika, garlic, red pepper, thyme and seasoning.
• Then add the rinsed barley and stir round the pan.
• Pour in the stock, tinned tomatoes and potatoes, followed by the chorizo.
• Bring to the boil, then reduce to a simmer and continue to cook with the lid on for about half an hour to 45 minutes. Keep checking and stirring, adding more water if required, the barley will soak up the liquid and thicken the dish.
• Check the seasoning and add more salt and pepper to taste.

Enjoy with chunks of crusty bread. As the weather turns cooler, this is a great dish to cook over the stove.

Cheesy Autumn Vegetable Cobbler

I absolutely love this hearty creamy dish, cooked in the oven, bubbling underneath, with a crispy finish to the cobbler topping, it really does make a delicious one pot meal! Any vegetables can be used, whatever you have in, and the addition of butter beans gives a creamier finish. I used a large rectangular enamel dish for these quantities.

½ small onion, finely chopped
1 garlic clove,
minced Cauliflower (half or one small) cut into small florets
Greens such as green beans, kale, stripped cavelo nero, or broccoli
1 carrot, cut into chunks
1 courgette, cut into chunks
250 ml vegetable stock
200g tub cream cheese
Pinch nutmeg
Pinch salt and pepper
1 tin butter beans
A little grated cheese for sprinkling on top

For the Cobbler

225g self-raising flour
50g butter
25g walnuts, finely chopped
50g red Leicester cheese, grated
150 ml milk
1 beaten egg
Pinch salt

• Rub the butter into the flour and salt to resemble breadcrumbs, add the nuts and cheese
• Beat the egg and milk together along with the nutmeg, and stir most of it into the flour mixture to bring it together, reserving about 1 tbsp to brush over the top.
• Handle the dough lightly to bring together, cut into 8 segments using a floured knife and form into rounds, using floured hands, keep to one side.
• For ease and speed, blanch the vegetables in boiling water, drain using the water to make the stock.
• Fry the onion in a little oil, add the garlic and seasoning, stir in the stock and cream cheese.
• Place the strained vegetables in the dish and add the stock and cream cheese mixture with a small sprinkling of cheese over the top.
• Top with the 8 cobbler dumplings, brush with the reserved egg and milk.
• Bake for 25 to 30 minutes until the topping is crispy and golden.

Autumn is pie season, and I love a good fruit pie, cobbler or crumble. Adding a little ginger or cinnamon to the fruit adds an Autumn spice and if using apples I always use a little butter for more richness. I love making my custard into ginger custard, just by adding some grated stem ginger from a jar and a little bit of the syrup. Recently I bought a couple of cast iron mini pots, only measuring 12cm diameter, but perfect for small puddings or slow cooks over the stove.

Baked little Fruit and Granola Pots

These are like a cheats crumble, with no fuss, just using breakfast granola over the fruit. Depending on which type you use, it’s probably not necessary to add any sugar, that’s up to personal preferences, but a little brown sugar and cinnamon could always be sprinkled over the top for extra sweetness.

200g fruit, such as damsons, plums, apples etc.
2 tbsp dark brown sugar
1 tbsp butter
½ tsp ground ginger
¼ tsp ground cinnamon
100g granola for the topping.

These quantities can easily be doubled for a larger pot.
Combine the fruit, sugar, butter and spices and add to the pot with a splash of water. Top with the granola. Place the lid over the top and cook over the stove until the fruit is bubbling and the granola crispy. Serve with crème fraiche or custard.

Finally, the arrival of Autumn for me, in the galley, means baking and one of my favourites has to be a ginger cake. Knowing the cake improves after a day or two, it’s just impossible to resist the wait! Here’s one of my favourite recipes.

Traditional Ginger Cake

225g self-raising flour
2 tsp ground ginger
½ tsp ground cinnamon
1 tsp bicarbonate of soda
100g unsalted butter, plus extra for greasing
100g golden syrup
100g black treacle
100g light brown soft sugar
50g stem ginger, from a jar, diced.
2 medium eggs
200ml milk
100g icing sugar
2 tbsp of the syrup from the stem ginger jar.

Preheat the oven to 160 fan, gas 4.

• Grease and line a 20cm square cake tin (or similar) with baking paper.
• Blitz together the flour, ginger, cinnamon, bicarb and butter until it resembles breadcrumbs.
• Into a pan, place the syrup, treacle, sugar and diced ginger, gently heat to dissolve the sugar, then turn up the heat for another minute, stirring and remove from the heat.
• Beat the eggs and milk into the syrup mixture, then mix into the flour and butter mixture.
• Pour into the cake tin and bake for 45 minutes.
• Remove the cake from the oven and allow to cool for 10 minutes in the tin.
• Meanwhile stir the ginger syrup and 2 tbsp boiling water into the icing sugar, stir until smooth.
• Pierce the cake all over with a skewer and pour over the icing mixture. Leave to set before serving.

I hope you enjoy trying some of these recipes and look forward to a pleasant Autumn. Don’t forget to click the bio for more seasonal recipes and I’ll be back with more in December.

For the past twenty-five years, boats have quietly shaped our life together, marking each chapter of our relationship with a different hull, horizon, and sense of adventure. It all began modestly, with a small Larson bow rider bought when we were first dating. She wasn’t grand or glamorous, but she was freedom.

Weekends were spent learning the rhythms of the water, figuring out terminology, weather, and each other, all while discovering that life felt better afloat. As the years passed, our confidence grew and so did the boats.

One motorboat led to another, each a little larger, a little more capable, mirroring our growing ambitions. The true highlight of this era came with the purchase of a 50-foot Prestige motor yacht. She opened the door to genuine passage-making and unforgettable journeys.

From Cornwall we crossed the Channel to France, then pushed on across the Bay of Biscay to northern Spain. Eventually, we followed the sun south to the Algarve, savouring the blend of challenge and exhilaration that long coastal passages bring.

Yet even that wasn’t enough.

Somewhere along the Portuguese coast, we realised we wanted more than Europe had to offer. We felt an irresistible pull toward the Atlantic and the dream of exploring the inter-coastal waterways of the United States.

To do that, we made a bold change, selling the motorboat and buying a sailing catamaran. In 2018, we crossed the Atlantic, an experience that tested us, thrilled us, and rewarded us in equal measure. Life slowed to wind speed, days were measured in watches, and the ocean became both adversary and companion.

Eventually, life nudged us toward calmer waters. When our dog, Banjo, became too old for ocean passages, we brought him home to the UK, settling into an apartment and promising ourselves a quieter chapter. That promise lasted only a few months.

Restlessness crept back in, and on a whim we called Ovation Boats who had a stock boat available and bought our first narrowboat in May 2023. Within a month, we realised we were completely captivated. Canal life offered us everything we cherished about a nomadic lifestyle, minus the stress of storms or rough seas.

Understanding this was now our long-term plan, we reached out to Chris at Ovation Boats to see if he was keen on crafting our ideal narrowboat. Apart from perhaps thinking we were a tad mad to order a second boat so soon, Chris was genuinely thrilled to be part of our entirely bespoke project.

We spent a few months designing and planning, as this needed to be our forever boat, so we were intensely focused on quality of life features that would ensure our new home was comfortable throughout the year. Some aspects were a bit unconventional for a traditional narrowboat builder, but we found the team at Ovation to be completely supportive of our requirements, from the underfloor heating system to the Smart Glass in the skylight, or the hybrid diesel/electric propulsion system to the Tent Box on the roof of the boat—every item on our must-have list was met with enthusiasm and a solution-oriented approach.

Over the next eight months, we made regular visits to the boatyard, refining various aspects of the design, sometimes tweaking plans here and there; it truly felt as though the boat was being constructed around us. More than that, the connection we forged with the craftsmen and women involved in the build and the insight we gained into the process has made our bond with this boat feel more tangible—I’m not sure every builder would welcome so much client interaction, but we are incredibly grateful for the relationship we’ve developed with the team at Ovation, all of whom we now consider friends.

We are small personal team of professional boatbuilders with a range of skills from apprentice to experienced.

Offering a broad spectrum of ‘Charnwood’ fully fitted steel boats from the all-electric short narrowboat ‘Charnwood Hobbit’ to the Dutch barge style ‘Charnwood Euro’.

07963 974 793
https://www.ovationboats.co.uk

Well that was a summer, wasn’t it?

Scorching temperatures, wildfires – especially just down the road here from Old Bridge number 38 in Stourbridge.

No need to go to Benidorm, just collapse on the sun lounger alongside the towpath and slap on the factor 50.

Low water levels, so moor up alongside the nearest pub and try to make the best of it.

Job’s a good one – not seen the like since 1976.

But dear reader, I bring a dire warning.

El Nino is hotting up in the Pacific and promising a winter of torrential downpours to top up the reservoirs that the water companies neglect in favour of their shareholders. (Oops! A bit political there. Sorry).

El Nino? I hear you query.

Well, let me try to explain. Say, for example, you boiled a kettle of water and chucked the lot into the turbulent waters of the Grand Union, then in all probability sometime around a week next Thursday we’d have a week’s worth of rain in 24 ½ hours down here on the Staffs and Worcs.

Same principle, only a lot bigger and wetter. El Nino is by all accounts a bit nasty.

And if a butterfly dared to flap its wings somewhere by Botterham Lock around the same time, then we’d probably have gales, hurricanes and tidal waves as well.

How do I know?

Because we’re used to disaster here in the Black Country. In 2002 for example, an almighty earthquake hit Dudley in the early hours of the morning. It measured 4.8 on the ‘slightly wobbly scale.’

How well I remember it. Well actually I don’t, it takes more than the earth moving to wake me from my fitful slumber. But it was extremely serious. I heard that someone’s chimney pot fell off in Upper Gornal.

We’ve had volcanos erupting too. Oh yes indeed. Up there at Barrow Hill next to Russell’s Hall hospital. Or the Pensnett Hilton as we call it.

Okay, it hasn’t gone off for a few million years and they reckon it’s extinct, but you can’t fool me. I know that it’s just lulling us into a false sense of security, just waiting to turn Pensnett into a latter-day Pompeii.

The Severn Bore happens quite a lot too. A tidal wave hurtling up the River Severn. It hasn’t happened yet, but someone only has to leave the lock gates open at Stourport so that it can take a quick right turn up the cut and we’ll be under water here before you can say, ‘Pass the wellies.’

So please believe me when I tell you to batten down the hatches. We’re in for a spell of inclement weather this winter. The sort of winter that will make you regret the words you uttered at the height of the heatwave, ‘Oh I wish it would cool down a bit, my 99 keeps melting all over the dog!’

Enjoy – and don’t forget your brolly.

In my last piece I talked about the strange guests we had on board Art Deco, but I must stress that most guests we had aboard were in fact lovely people and we had some wonderful experiences with them. We enjoyed showing them the local area and relating any bits of information and stories regarding the places we passed and I amassed a great deal of knowledge about the river and its surrounding area. We would plan an itinerary based on where the pick up point was and most of our guests were happy with that, they simply wanted to relax and watch the world go by.

There were a few guests who had a firm idea of where they wanted to go and what they wanted to see and we tried our best to please them if we could.

We had a lovely couple with us for four days. The gentleman was an artist and he just wanted to sketch, so we always made sure we moored each evening in a place where there was some feature or other, be it natural or man made, that would make for a decent subject for him to sketch. When they first arrived on board he surprised us by presenting us with a framed sketch that he’d done. It was from a series of sketches he’d made of Victoria Quays in Sheffield where we’d lived in an apartment before we took to the water and it’s hung in our present apartment now.

The artist and his wife made only one visit but we had a few couples who returned on a regular basis and they became our firm friends. One such couple were on board as we past through Henley on Thames and in the meadow on the Remenham side of the river there was a music festival taking place. After consulting Google we found out it was the Rewind Festival South. There’s a sister festival in Cheshire and another one in Perthshire and they all featured artists who were popular in the eighties and nineties. We decided it would be fun to visit, so we made it a date to get tickets for the following years festival. There were boats moored along both sides of the river and it was my job to get a mooring place for Art Deco.

We booked the festival tickets as soon as they went on sale and I managed to get a mooring for the boat, so we were all set for August next year. We arrived in Henley on the Thursday and found our mooring and we were ready for the first night of music on the Friday. We had a wonderful weekend and saw the likes of: Nick Kershaw, Mark Almond, Paul Carrack, Carol Decker, Chesney Hawks, Jason Donovan, along with a few lesser known artist and a couple of tribute bands. We had a great mooring, right by the festival site and it was reassuring that we could eat and drink whatever we wanted, knowing that our bed was just a short walk away. On all three nights of the festival we stayed to the very end and then carried on partying back on Art Deco into the early hours of the morning. We were pleased that we had the foresight to keep the following week free of guests, we needed the week to recuperate!

Another couple who were regular guests were two ex Fleet Street journalists. They spent the winter months in New Zealand and came back to the UK for the summer months and for three years they joined us as guests on Art Deco. They were great fun and certainly knew how to party. We looked forward to their visits. One particular year we picked them up in Reading with a view to cruising down river, with no particular finishing point. Wherever we landed they would get a taxi back to their car which was parked in Reading. We were passing through Boulters lock in Maidenhead when our guests remarked that they had friends who lived by the river in Bray and thought it a good opportunity to pay them a visit. They called them and when they had finished their call I said “There’s good moorings at Bray but they’re on the opposite side of the river from the grand houses” “That won’t be necessary I was told, you can moor at the bottom of their garden, alongside their boat, “You can’t miss it, it’s a very large white cruiser” Once we had passed through the lock we slowly cruised down river and sure enough on the right hand side, there was the said boat. As we drew along side we were helped to tie up by a gentleman aboard the cruiser and we all stepped aboard and followed him up and on to the roof terrace where his wife was waiting with a large jug of Pimm’s. Introductions were made and we were surprised to learn that our host was a surgeon who’d studied at Sheffield University. What a small world it is. When I remarked what a gorgeous house he had he replied “It’s going to be demolished!” The house was a typical Thames riverside property. A two story, bay windowed, double fronted house in the mock Tudor style. It was, he told us, a lovely house to look at but it was damp and draughty and cost a fortune to heat. It had taken him ten years to get planning permission but the latest application had been approved. We had a pleasant evening aboard the cruiser with our new found friends and spent the night moored alongside their boat. In the morning as we left we were given an open invitation to moor alongside their boat if we were struggling to find a mooring. Over the following months we saw the old house demolished and replaced by a modern glass and steel structure, very architecturally stunning, but we thought it didn't fit in with the other properties on the river.

A lovely couple from Chesterfield, a town just a stone's throw away from our home city joined us for four days in the summer of 2018. The were both part of an amateur drama group in their town and were very flamboyant in both their dress and lifestyle. The lady’s default clothing was brightly coloured dresses in vivid colours and the gentleman came dressed as a typical 19th century bargeman, complete with bowler hat, spotted neckerchief, striped collarless shirt and moleskin trousers. When I asked if he fancied a go at skippering Art Deco he jumped at the chance and he was in his element and I have to admit, he certainly looked the part. He skippered the boat for the full four days of their stay, ok, I negotiated all the locks and bridges but he was at the tiller for the rest of the time. He was in heaven he said and thoroughly enjoyed his time with us and his partner was at his side all the time, acting out their obsession with all things Victorian. When they were leaving they presented us with two silver salad servers, Victorian, of course which they had found in an antique shop in Marlow.

Many guests arrived bearing gifts; we had eggs from their own chickens, cheese from their own goats and all sorts of home grown produce. We also had gifts given as couples left, a book on the folklore of the Thames and a coffee table book full of photographs and paintings of the Thames are two such books that spring to mind. A couple who stayed with us a few times presented us with a framed watercolour of a countryside scene around Henley. They’d visited the artist’s studio and bought the painting directly from her. It’s on our wall in our hallway and every time I look at it I’m reminded of our years afloat.

We had an elderly couple as guests for four days and although they were in their seventies it didn’t show, they were up for anything and they were on and off the boat like spring chickens. What singled them out though was the life they’d lived. She was brought up on a farm in Rhodesia and her ambition had been to train as a nurse and she’d secured a place with an English hospital. She had saved the money for the flight but instead of buying an airline ticket she’d bought an old Land Rover and driven across Africa, just for the fun of it she said! She picked up a boat in Tangier and worked her passage to England. He was born in South Africa and became a pilot and had a job flying workers and supplies to to the remote coal and diamond mines. Some places were so remote that they didn't have a proper airstrip as such and he had to be “creative” as he put it to get the plane down safely. They met and married in England and they both wanted to visit Australia and being of an adventurous nature they secured a passage on a container ship. They had a tiny cabin and ate with the crew which consisted of many nationalities and as they put it, the meals could sometimes be challenging but never boring and they thoroughly enjoyed the journey. They were at sea for over a month because the ship had to drop off and pick up cargo as it slowly made its way to Australia.

Our guests were more generous than we could ever have expected. We were often taken to a local pub and treated to drinks and a meal. It made all the hard work worthwhile, and it was hard work, not only were we providing breakfast, lunch and evening meal but we had the added problem of finding a mooring for the night. It was difficult in the popular places, especially in July and August but we did have help with that problem. There was a small community of live aboard boaters, who like ourselves had no home mooring, who continually cruise all year and we all helped each other and communicated via our own WhatsApp group. If a guest wanted to spend time in Henley, for instance, we would send out a message asking if anyone’s moored there and to check if there’s any space available. If one of our friends were moored there they would message back telling us where they were moored and if there were no moorings available we would double up wth them. It worked very well and got us out of a few sticky situations.

We encouraged guests to arrive by public transport whenever possible and we found that Reading was the ideal place to pick up anyone who arrived by train. There were plenty of moorings available just a short walk from the station and I spent many hours sitting on a bench outside the station waiting for guests to arrive. Reading station was a very modern one, built in 2014 and our instructions to them were that whatever platform they arrived on they were to go up to the concourse that spanned the full width of the station and acted as a footbridge and follow the signs to the Caversham exit. There is an escalator that leads down from the concourse and can be seen through the large glass wall of the station where I could see the passengers as they descended to the exit. I played a game with myself, trying to guess which of the folks on the escalator were our guests and over time I became quite good at it. It helped pass the time if nothing else.

If guests were coming by car then we had the problem of where to leave their car for the duration of their visit. We became friendly with a couple of boatyard owners and they allowed our guests to leave their car with them when they had the space. When that was not possible, we used a website where households who had a driveway to their property that was not used could register with the website and details of its location and cost would be published online . It worked well and was a win win situation; our guests were able to leave their car in a secure place and the property owner was paid for that privilege.

By 2019 we had been living on Art Deco for seven years and taking on guests for three of those years and we started to talk about giving up our nomadic lifestyle and returning to dry land. A number of situations came together and we decided that fate was intervening, all the planets were in alignment, the time was right for a change. The main reason was that we became grandparents for the first time, our daughter giving birth to a little girl in the June of 2019 and we wanted to spend time with our new granddaughter. We had stopped taking on guests after the summer of 2018 because it wasn’t enjoyable anymore, it was hard and stressful work and we were weren’t getting any younger.

The thing that finally decided it for us though, was the lifestyle itself, the atmosphere on the river had changed, and not for the better. More boats were appearing every year and with the government cutting the funding to the Environment Agency there were fewer lock keepers and the facilities were being neglected, when something needed fixing it wasn’t getting done. There were fewer and fewer free moorings and in many places the moorings were policed by companies who’d honed their skills managing city centre car parks. They required you to register and pay via their app, which was fair enough but in some places there was no internet connection which made it impossible to do so. That was no excuse though and there were tales of boaters being persued through the courts for non payment. Taking all this into account we decided that at the start of 2020 we would look to sell Art Deco but little did we know at the time that something the world was totally unprepared for was about to happen and it nearly scuppered our plans.

Although the museum was only open at weekends for the first couple of years, visitors arrived randomly during the week. They would often get an impromptu guided tour. One such visitor was Old Bill. He introduced himself with a question, “Have you got any steam boats here?”. We hadn’t, but we liked him so we invited him in for a brew and a chat.

Bill had recently retired from lorry driving for the nearby car factory. He told us he had always been known as Old Bill because, everywhere he worked, he had been the oldest William. At Vauxhall there had been Young Bill, himself and Bill the Bum!

Like many amateur engineers of his era, Bill had a lathe in his garden shed but he’d run out of projects since retirement. His first job had been as fireman on a steam lorry and he’d yearned for involvement with a steam engine ever since.

“We don’t have a steam boat,” I explained, “But we do have a pair of hydraulic pumping engines”.
“Oh!” said Bill, “Can I have a look?”

The steam engines used to provide hydraulic power to the whole dock estate. Sadly, they were derelict and all their bearings and other brass bits had been nicked. I unlocked the door and we entered past the silent Lancashire boilers then up the steps into the engine house. Bill got very excited. “Do you think,” he asked “if anyone would mind if I just cleaned them up and painted them?”

Old Bill, realistically, wasn’t going to stop with prettification. He aimed to get an engine running. Soon he had an agreement with a brass foundry in Widnes. He would supply the wooden pattern for the required part, along with scrap brass, and they would cast the part for free. Volunteers who came along at weekends began to bring unwanted brass items with them to add to Bill’s brass stash.

Bill worked long hours in the engine house. He would often drop in for a brew, regaling us with tales of his years driving trucks, his time serving in world war II, and his childhood, playing with snowballs made from asbestos waste.

It took him 3 years to get the first engine running. Reviving the Lancashire boilers was impractical so a small vertical boiler was installed the other side of the covered arm. On steaming days the job of fireman fell to me, using scrap wood as fuel. A simple intercom was used for communication across the water.

As time passed the Boat Museum increased in fame. I acquired a wooden motor boat called Sarah that, like Lilith, needed rebuilding. It developed a bad habit of sinking.

We had an arrangement with the local fire station when a boat sank. They would come and pump it out and put it down to training. The one proviso was that, if they should get an emergency call, they would rush away to answer it.

One day Sarah sank, gunwales under, right in the most prominent part of the museum. I summoned the brigade and they started getting set up, then an emergency call came in and they were off, returning later to recover their equipment.

The museum committee started to take an unusually intolerant view of my sunken boat. They let me know that they were expecting a visit from an unspecified but very important person, and Sarah was an embarrassment.

Lorries began to arrive, delivering half of Derbyshire in the form of crushed limestone to make new roads and paths. A British Waterways dredger turned up and started work. BWB also started work repairing the bottom lock, giving access to the ship canal. This required the use of three huge Sykes Univac pumps, two on the land and one on a work flat.

The job finished on a Friday. The two pumps on the land were taken away but the work flat was brought up the locks and left in the outer basin with the pump still on board.

When the workers had gone I went to have a look. There were suction pipes, diesel in the tank and a starting handle. I shafted the boat into the museum and tied her abreast of Sarah. The suction pipes were soon connected up and fed into the sunken boat.

I spun the handle, knocked down the decompressors one by one and the big 3 cylinder Lister roared into life. Water started to jet across the basin from the pump outlet and a mini Niagara started all along Sarah’s gunwales. In almost no time the cascade stopped and the boat popped up like a cork. The big pump ran out of water to shift, so I rigged up a little electric pump to complete the job.

With Sarah safely afloat I shafted the work flat back to where I’d found it and carefully re-placed all the equipment so that, when they came to collect it, no-one would be any the wiser. After 50 years I don’t think anyone will be bothered!

It soon became clear that our mystery guests were to be none other than Queen Elizabeth II and Prince Philip. We began to get posh impromptu visitors, who we’d never seen before, claiming to have been the first to think of having a boat museum there. It’s amazing what a royal visit will bring out of the woodwork!

A few days before Her Majesty was due to arrive, stop planks were inserted at the first bridge-hole. Police divers dragged the basin and checked under the boats for bombs. This was quite handy as they found a lot of the tools that I’d dropped in over time.

With the divers' work done the police ringed the whole site, one copper every few yards and every third one with a dog. Access was only possible with a pass. I had a pass, but nobody informed the officers that I lived there. Every time they had a shift change I would get interrogated by bored and suspicious policemen, who clearly thought that my pass was a forgery. I had a wonderful but scruffy mongrel called Caspar who was invaluable in guarding the site, but was not happy about all the police dogs on his manor.

On the big day, Old Bill came dressed in his shiniest overalls. The royal visitors wanted to see his engine running. The sun shone and crowds of visitors assembled, many of the ladies wearing dresses of delicate shades of pink or white.

My job, of course, was to fire the boiler. This had the added benefit of keeping me out of the way as my Cromwellian sympathies were well known. For the first and last time I was supplied with the luxury of coal to fuel the fire.

I had full pressure in good time. The intercom crackled and Bill told me that it looked like it would be a while before the royal party reached the engine house, so we might as well run the engine.

This happened a couple more times, then Bill said he thought they wouldn’t be much longer. I had a full boiler, full pressure and the safety valves just sizzling. To cool things down I put on the damper and filled the firebox with coal. Deprived of air, the coal began coking, and a haze of sulphurous yellow smoke drifted from the chimney.

The intercom crackled again. “They’re coming over now!” said Bill, “Give me steam!"

I removed the damper and, from inside the firebox came a loud WUMPF as oxygen ignited the hot coal. As the products of combustion exited the boiler they took with them the layers of soot that had built up in the passages.

A great cloud of black ordure rose from the chimney, sailed above the island warehouse and descended on the ladies in pink and white dresses...

Bill was dead chuffed about meeting the Queen and later related to us the entire conversation that he had with her, several times.

******

Bill carried on with his work in the engine house for many more years, leaving a legacy that is enjoyed to this day by museum visitors.

The old boiler was replaced with a new gas fired one, eliminating any future risks of dry cleaning claims.

Caspar moved to Runcorn with me in 1982. Sadly, he later succumbed to cancer aged about 10.

Sarah’s original name turned out to be Forget me Not, built originally as a horse boat in 1927 for number one boatman Henry Grantham. She was motorised at Braunston in 1929 and fitted with a counter stern in 1931. She was launched after a comprehensive rebuild in 1994 and now is the principal motor boat for the Wooden Canal Boat Society. Among other things, she tows Hazel on well-being trips. After 32 years in the water she now needs another overhaul.

After the excitement of the opening weekend I fetched my pair of little orange boxes into the museum basin and took up residence. The museum boats were all moved away from the accessible bank and tied around the island warehouse for safety from vandals. Initially the museum was only open at weekends. I hadn’t really considered what a big voluntary task I’d taken on. There was no fence around the site and it was regarded as a public footpath. Most of the boats leaked and had to be pumped out regularly. I was working full time and had Lilith to finish rebuilding.

I don’t recall how I first met Dave and Al. They had just left school and, like most school leavers in those days in that part of the world, signed on the dole. They both wanted to escape from their respective parental homes, but didn’t have the means. They jumped at the chance of moving into an old boat and helping me to look after the museum. Dave occupied the Yorkshire keel Ethel and Al took up residence on board the Mersey Flat Mossdale.

Meals were taken aboard my floating chicken hutch, Mosquito, and mostly comprised dubious stews cooked on my little paraffin stove.

Although Dave and Al were long term friends there was constant tension between them. Al was quite tall and good looking. Dave was witty, in a slightly lugubrious and self deprecating way. Much of the bickering was connected to Al’s determination to outdo Giacomo Cassanova in his amorous conquests, and his delight in bragging about it. His dalliances frequently took him away to spend time with various ladies, which left the burden of boat pumping to me and Dave.

One of the odd things is that, though Mossdale and Ethel generally didn’t leak much, as soon as a resident went away, that person’s boat would sink.

I struck a deal with Dave, who had excelled at school woodwork. If he helped me to fit out Lilith I would give him Mosquito. We started gathering old pallets to break up for material.

Animals began to appear, mostly connected to another school leaver called Malcolm. His name was usually abbreviated to Mal, but then often, rather cruelly, extended again. I think it was Mal who brought us a rabbit that ran about in Lilith’s hold for a while. We referred to it as the guard rabbit, until it was stolen. A similar fate befell Butty, a rather plump black and white cat that Mal supplied in order to deal with a rat problem. She had no effect on the rats but had the unfortunate misunderstanding that cabin bilges were put there to act as litter trays.

It was the famously hot summer of 1976. Extremes of weather are not good for wooden boats, and constant heat causes their planks to shrink, potentially opening up leaks. We tested electric bilge pumps to destruction and were constantly charging batteries to run them.

We worked out an alternative method of draining bilges. The only building in use then was the Toll House. In its basement, at a lower level than the basin, was a tap. From somwhere we acquired a long length of alkathene water pipe, which reached all the way from the tap to the bilges of the nearest boats, usually George and Scorpio, the two Leeds & Liverpool boats, notorious leakers. If you put one end of the pipe in the deepest part of the bilge, and the other end on the tap you could fill the pipe with water. Once removed from the tap the water would run back and syphon out the bilgewater.

Just round the corner from the museum there was a night club over a garage. One hot summer’s night I was woken in the early hours by the sounds of shouting and splashing. I went out to investigate and found that the top wide lock was full of drunken revellers, with others on the sides encouraging their antics. They had all gone to cool off after a night of drinking and dancing. This became quite a regular occurrence through the heat wave, especially on Saturday nights. Happily, no-one drowned.

The government appointed Denis Howell as minister of drought. Indians in Leicester performed a rain dance, and achieved just a few spots. The Thames began to be pumped backwards and most of the canal system shut down. Not until October did the rains come, and they came with a vengeance. The cabins on Mossdale and Ethel were underneath planked decks, which had shrunk drastically. The water poured in all over Dave and Al’s bedding and possessions.
Al moved on to pursue further education in Rotherham. Dave completed Lilith’s cabin so I gave him Mosquito. He made a nice job of rebuilding its cabin then took up a woodworking job in the Midlands. He sold the boat to his successor as museum guard, who abandoned it.

Mal left to work on the gravel boats on the River Soar. Decades later, using a slightly different name, he contacted me via Facebook and offered to move to Ashton to volunteer for the WCBS. He’d just retired from a career putting on puppet shows at holiday camps. Unfortunately he then suffered a series of health problems before his Facebook account became inactive.

The last I saw of Mosquito she was sunk in the covered arm. Mossdale is now preserved as a dry exhibit. Ethel was broken up in 1985 as the museum didn’t have the resources to restore her. Lilith is at Portland Basin awaiting attention after over 40 years of further service.

If you’d like to help getting Lilith and other historic boats restored and working for the community contact the Wooden Canal Boat Society or phone 07931 952 037

The motor was running as well as ever, and the Mayfly was again looking her best as Jim and Amanda edged slowly out of the basin, having stayed a few days and were more than happy to be on the move again, despite the rather persistent rain and the ever recurrent cash problems.

Autumn was beginning to take more of a hold, and was most noticeable on clear nights and bright mornings when the thin plywood shell did not do much of a job of keeping the cold out. Their next main destination was to return the pollution monitor they were testing to Clive Prentice. Whilst looking forward to seeing him again, it also meant the end of any income from the device, and no further way planned to earn more. Nothing seemed to bother them, though as they were on the move again and that was what they did best.

“We ought to phone Marie in the corner shop at some time,” Jim suggested, as they passed under a bridge. “See what the state of play is back home.”

“This is home,” Amanda smiled. “But I know what you mean, except not today, let’s have the next twenty four hours just for the two of us. There’s nobody chasing or trying to arrest either you or me, and that’s sort of good I think.”

Jim smiled in reply, knowing their easy going routine had returned and both should be savouring it. They stopped for the night early in an area of open country to enjoy the evening, the meal, a long walk under the darkening sky, and the return, lit only by the stars to the warmth of shared closeness in the cabin. The breeze that had blown up since they retired gently rocked the boat until they both drifted off to sleep. They would have slept late into the morning had the noise of the breeze, which had now achieved almost gale force, not woken them at around six o’clock.

“That’s going to be a bummer,” Amanda said, lazily.

“Stuff it,” Jim replied as he stretched out. “We’re going to get more of this as the year goes on so we may as well get acclimatised.”

And more of it they got. Over the next week if it wasn’t raining, it was blowing or, just for a change, doing both.

They started each day damp and finished it soaking, but, fuelled by a hearty breakfast and strong tea, they plugged on forward though progress was sometimes only a third of their normal daily distance. Even with covers fully deployed, the wind blown rain still found its target, and, worse still, the force of the gusts pushed the boat all over the place.

Eventually they put anything that wasn’t waterproof in the cabin, and ran without covers, accepting saturation as a fact of life. By the end of each day they were chapped and sore from handling wet rope and windlasses. By the end of the week, Amanda had a bad cold. The weather continued as wild as it had been.

“Right,” Jim eventually said, “You stay in the cabin today. There’s no way you can work.”

Amanda protested, but knew he was right, despite which, she was pretty sure he was going to catch the wretched cold and then it’d be her turn. Both were correct, In another day Jim’s temperature had risen to what Amanda had decided was probably a dizzying height and she insisted that they both stop until they felt better.

“We weren’t born to this,” she croaked. “And I think even old Lou would let us off for a day or so.”

“I remember,” Jim said. “He didn’t want you roughing your hands up.”

The cough he’d developed stopped him saying more.

The rain, mist and wind made everything on Mayfly seem damp and cold, mainly because it was. They used the paraffin stoves to provide some warmth, but they were noisy, smelly and the instruction booklet that came with one of them warned they shouldn’t be used as space heaters. The daily walk for provisions and water added to the general state of gloom that had settled. They were again running short of money, and each day they did not travel eroded their budget further.

It was the weekend before either of them felt fit to move on and, with slightly improved weather, they edged off towards their planned destination, a canal bridge quite near to Clive Prentice’s business. Taking things easy, thankful that the wind, at least had died down, the covers could stay up sheltering the sporadic rain. With gradually clearing rain and small periods of sunshine, Jim tried hand towing to save petrol claiming that the exercise would do him good.

With the holiday season over, they could go on for over a day without seeing another boat on the move which meant that they avoided daft comments and offers of help, as happened previously, from people thinking they had broken down.

“We’re going to have to think of ways to keep warm once the real cold weather starts,” Amanda pointed out, coughing as she did. “Or we’ll catch something really bad and be found frozen to the marrow in midwinter by one of the lengthmen.”

“Best not buy any marrows then,” Jim quipped, knowing his partner was right.

The eventual solution came from a pile of fly tipped waste.

“If we heat the bricks on a small campfire, we can put them in one of the empty deed boxes," Amanda said. "Kind of like the haybox cooker in reverse. It’ll keep the real chill out of the cabin."

“That one worked,” Jim smiled. “At least I won’t be thinking you’ve gone bonkers whilst we make the thing,” he added with a laugh.

“OK then” Amanda smiled, “Let’s go for it. We can do this Jimbo! Last one to find a bit of wood is a lemon!”

Optimism had returned and the pair set off with a new enthusiasm towards their destination.

(©2026 Michael Nye)