By evening, Theo felt the day pressing at the edges of him like an instrument left too long unplayed. The coal bag sat by the stove, the violin case on the bench, but the silence of the boat was heavier than either. He stood at the stern with his hands braced on the tiller post, watching the canal smooth itself into shadow. Lamps along the towpath winked on one by one, reflected twice, once in the water, once in his restless eyes.

He slung the case over his shoulder and started toward the village. The air had cooled, the smell of damp earth rising after a day of sun. Insects skimmed low across the water; bats wheeled overhead, scribbling dark shapes against the indigo sky. The walk loosened something in him, though not enough. The pub lights drew him the rest of the way.

The Crown and Anchor pulsed with sound as soon as he opened the door. Laughter, the scrape of chairs, the thud of tankards on wood. Heat rolled out, fragrant with ale and roasted meat. He stepped inside and felt, for the first time in weeks, the familiar hum of a place that asked nothing more of him than to listen, maybe to join.

Near the hearth, a circle of musicians had gathered. A squeezebox wheezed, a whistle darted, a bodhrán thumped steady as a heartbeat. At their center sat the old fiddler from the market, bow arm moving with the same patient grace, pulling tunes from the strings as if they had been waiting all day to be released.

Theo paused, case strap biting his shoulder. He had half a mind to stay back, let the night wash over him as a spectator. But the music tugged. He recognized the tune as an old reel, one he had bent and twisted in his band days until it was barely recognizable. Here it was played simply, strongly, and unadorned, and the room loved it for what it was. His fingers twitched against the case.

“Ye plannin’ to stand there gawpin’, or ye mean to play?” The old fiddler’s accent carried easily, not sharp but certain. His eyes flicked up just long enough to pin Theo where he stood before returning to the bow.

Theo barked a short laugh, more at himself than the man. He crossed to the circle, set the case down, and drew out his violin. The room shifted to make space, curious but welcoming. He tuned quickly, the strings settling under his fingers like old friends grudgingly reunited.

The next tune began without ceremony. A jig this time, lively and crooked, the sort that made feet tap before brains caught up. Theo joined in the second phrase, letting his bow ride the rhythm, at first cautious, then bolder. The room answered boots, voices rising. He pushed harder, faster, throwing sparks into the tune. The old man met him note for note, his steadiness the keel to Theo’s wind.

Something uncoiled in Theo’s chest. Weeks of tension, nights of doubt, the suffocation of city noise poured out through the strings. He grinned, caught himself grinning, and didn’t care. The session rolled on: reels, waltzes, a slow air that hushed the room until only breath and bow remained. Ale arrived at his elbow without him asking; he drank between tunes, sweat cooling on his temples, laughter spilling easier each time.

Across the room, he caught sight of Ivy. She wasn’t close, just leaning against a pillar, her shopping bag tucked near her boots. Her eyes followed the music, not him exactly, but when their gazes brushed, he felt it. She nodded once, almost imperceptibly, then looked back to the circle. He played on, heart lighter than it had been in months.

By the time the night loosened into talk and scattered applause, Theo’s shoulders felt different. The weight of the band, the weight of silence, both eased. The canal had its own tempo, slower, steadier, and for the first time, he let himself fall into it. He packed the violin carefully, lingered over the last swallow of ale, and stepped out into the night.

The air was cool, the towpath quiet. Water lapped against moorings, a lullaby he hadn’t known he needed. Theo walked back toward his boat with the rhythm of jigs still in his blood and the soft pace of the canal waiting to teach him how to breathe again.

Evenings on the canal were painted in gold. Lamps glowed from cabin windows, their light doubling in reflections on the water’s surface. Theo leaned against his railing with a violin in hand, coaxing out tunes that had no audience but the ducks and the ripples. His music carried across the cut, threads of melody curling through ivy-clad walls and along the towpath.

From her deck, Ivy listened. She pretended indifference, but her hands stilled on her mug of tea as she watched his silhouette framed in lantern light. The notes were raw, unpolished, and unlike the glossy performances she later learned he had abandoned. Here, he played not to impress but because the music demanded release. And something in her tightened with each refrain.

***

The weight of the shopping bag tugged against her shoulder as Ivy made her way back from the market. The cobbles underfoot gave way to the softer grit of the towpath, but before she crossed the bridge, she slowed, eyes drifting to the pub tucked into the bend of the lane. Its windows glowed amber even in daylight, and the painted sign, The Crown and Anchor, creaked faintly in the breeze. The place smelled of yeast, wood smoke, comfort, and memory, stitched together.

She hesitated on the threshold, then pushed the door open. Inside, the air wrapped around her like a worn quilt, warm, a little damp with steam from the kitchen, heavy with the smell of ale and roasted meat. Voices tumbled over one another, laughter here, a low murmur there, the scrape of a chair against the stone floor.

Behind the bar stood her friend, Meg, a stout woman with cheeks ruddy from both good humour and years near the fire. Her accent curled soft around the vowels, West Midlands through and through. “Well, if it isn’t Ivan’s girl,” Meg said, eyes crinkling as she set a tankard down for another customer. “I’d heard you’d taken the boat. Thought you’d be keepin’ yourself to the lines for a good while before bravin’ us lot.”

Ivy smiled, setting her bag on the counter for a moment’s reprieve. “Needed supplies,” she admitted. “And I thought a quick stop might be safer than learning to cook with coal smoke choking me.”

Meg barked a laugh. “Coal will choke ye, aye, but it’ll warm your toes better than bread and butter.” She poured a half pint without asking and slid it across. “On the house. For comin’ back.”

The ale was golden, a froth catching the lamplight. Ivy sipped, letting the bitterness settle on her tongue. Around her, the pub breathed with its regular rhythm: domino tiles slapped on wood, a dog nosing under tables for scraps, a man near the fire telling a story with hand gestures wider than the truth likely was.

“Feels different without him, doesn’t it?” Meg asked softly, her voice barely carrying past the bar.

Ivy nodded her throat tight. “He always liked the market. Said you could tell the health of a village by the weight of its bread and the boldness of its music.”

“Wise man,” Meg said. “And right enough. Did ye hear old Seamus fiddlin’ out there? Still got fingers quicker than lads half his age.”

“I did,” Ivy said, smiling faintly. “It made me think of Dad. He’d always pause to listen, even when he pretended he was in a hurry.”

Meg leaned on the bar, giving Ivy a look that was both steady and kind. “Then you’ll do the same. You’ve got his ears, girl. And maybe his stubbornness too.”

They spoke a little longer of coal deliveries, of which grocer sold milk that didn’t turn in a day, of how the swans had nested late this year. When Ivy finally gathered her bag and stepped back into the sunlight, she carried not only provisions but a sense of having been woven, however lightly, back into the fabric of the place.

The walk to her boat felt shorter, the canal glinting brighter in the late afternoon. She crossed the gangplank with care, setting the bag down inside before sinking onto the bench in the galley. The space smelled of bread, cheese, and faint smoke from the morning’s stove. She unpacked slowly: apples polished against her sleeve, coal stacked in the corner bin, milk set near the cool of the hull. Each item was an anchor, a piece of ordinary life to weigh against her uncertainties.

Sitting with a slice of bread in hand, she let her thoughts drift back to the marketplace. She had watched children laugh at the fiddler’s tunes, seen women haggle with sharp wit, felt the press and swirl of community around her. To her father, the market had been a gauge, a barometer of belonging. He had loved the bustle, the argument, the way a tune or a loaf could tell you whether a place was thriving.

For Ivy, the market had been overwhelming at first, too many voices, too much movement. But as the day wore on, she had felt something shift. Buying bread, she had been offered kindness. Buying coal, she had been shown strength. Listening to music, she had felt tradition steady her heartbeat. The market had tested her and, in small ways, accepted her.

Her father would have read it as a sign. See, lass, he would have said. The village has room for you, if you’ve the will to claim it.

Ivy leaned back, eyes tracing the worn beams above. Outside, the canal whispered against the hull, carrying both memory and promise. She was not yet fluent in this life, but today she had begun to speak its language. And in the music, both the old fiddler’s steady bow and Theo’s storm-fire glance from across the crowd, she had heard the conversation deepen.

She closed her eyes, letting the rhythm of the day settle. Belonging, she thought, might not come all at once. But it had begun.

A hidden way through the country

Discovering the UK canal system on a friend’s canal boat was rather like the search to find the craftspeople I needed to make the logbook I wanted to buy. Through canal cruising, within days, I became aware of an arterial system that opened parts of my country I would otherwise never have seen.

The transition from rural countryside to the underbelly of a city like Manchester is gradual, and that is part of the pleasure. You do not arrive with a bang. You slide in under bridges, past back gardens, railway arches, old warehouses and lock cottages, until the city has revealed itself from an angle few people know. Step onto the towpath and you feel you have come in through the side door.

That is what I enjoy about travelling this way. The canal does not present the polished front of a place. It shows you how it joins up. You see the seams. A village, a stretch of industry, a basin, a row of terraces, a pub garden, a church tower: all of it connected by water. The pace helps too. At canal speed, detail has time to register. A good mooring, an awkward lock, a useful chandlery, a stretch worth returning to. The journey is built from small things, and that is exactly why it stays with you.

Finding the people to make the books

Searching for craftspeople to make my books, I found trades largely hidden from view still very much alive in corners of the country. Brought together, they made what I had imagined possible. Bookbinding, printing and paper marbling are old skills that complement each other, and I found them not in some abstract idea of British craft, but in real workshops, with real people, still doing the job properly.

I had decided to start making books whilst sailing in the Mediterranean, but it was returning home that made it possible. I wanted a logbook that suited the way I actually used a boat and could not quite find one. There were plenty around, but none felt right. Some were too generic, some too flimsy, some seemed to understand the form without understanding much about life on the water.

What I found, once I started looking, was another hidden network running through the country. Not canals this time, but skilled trades. Quiet, specialist work that is easy to miss unless you go looking for it. That felt important. If the book was going to be useful, durable and worth keeping, it ought to come out of that world. English Logbooks grew from that idea: bring together the right people, make the thing properly, and produce something that earns its place aboard.

William Bruton says "I’m a yachting journalist by trade and I started the English Logbook Company whilst working as a yacht skipper in the Mediterranean. I couldn’t find a logbook that felt of a suitable quality to use on board — something properly made, practical, and worth keeping — so I set out to make one myself.

That grew into a small company making hand-bound logbooks for life on the water, all completely handmade and finished with hand-marbled paper.

Having spent more time on the inland waterways as well, I then created our Odyssey Inland Waterways Logbook, made specifically for canal boat and river users.

The books are designed to be genuinely useful on board, but also to feel special enough to give as a gift. They work particularly well for occasions like a new canal boat being launched for the first time — for example, a new Braidbar boat — where the owner wants something personal and lasting to mark the beginning of that boat’s life.

It was during a long wait at Billing Aquadrome that some girls started to wash their hair, returning to the sitting out wells with towels done up as turbans. But before long this interest had spread, and some were now washing boys’ hair. All  the boys seemed (to me) to be tall, broad-shouldered and handsome, and I could well understand why some girls might want to get their hands on them! Naturally, the boys had to take their shirts off first. I wasn’t sure whether to be plain envious or to feel critical and puritanical – after all, I was the Spanish Inquisition, to ensure that things were kept morally ship-shape!

camping boats at the River Nene locks, en route to Billing Aquadrome

Later the following day, I was enjoying my evening meal alone, using the galley hatch as a table top – when I saw bikini-clad Ingrid (for it was still hot and sunny) climbing around the boat towards me, meal in hand. We had shared a few smiles earlier in the day.

“Hi James, can I join you?”

“Sure, share my hatch!”

“Have you seen these boys having their hair washed? So I was wondering if you’d like a hair-wash too?”

I feel myself going red from the neck up. Fortunately, I was pretty red anyway from long hours at the tiller, in the sun. “Er - that would be great! But I’m not sure that the Spanish Inquisition would approve!"

“The what?”

“The Spanish Inquisition. You know – the Monty Python sketch!”

“Oh yes – that’s brilliant! Except the red cape might get caught around the propeller! Anyway, when you’ve finished your meal, come and find me, and we’ll get started. We can use one of the washing-up bowls.”

skipper Noel experiences the hair-wash treatment

Ingrid is a tall, slim and attractive girl from Staines, and studying Geography at Newcastle. With her glasses on she looks studious, without them, sensuous. With only a bikini on - smokin’ hot - one might say. I find her by the towpath, perched on the side of the boat.

“Come on James, let’s go inside – the kettle has boiled, the water is warm, and the shampoo is here . . .  But you need to take your shirt off first - of course."

This is the difficult bit, as I’m only too aware of my narrow chest, lack of muscles and skinny legs. So I never wear shorts on the boats, or on any holiday for that matter. And compared to Ingrid’s curvaceous body, I feel like a rake. But it doesn’t seem to bother her:

“Okay? So put your head down, and let’s get some soap into your curls.”

I do as instructed and, with her gentle hands massaging my scalp and longish, curly hair, my anxieties and unease seem to float away. It gives me a deep sense of connection, both to Ingrid and to the whole cruise. Certainly no girlfriend had ever offered me such a treat. After she’d finished, she wraps my head in a towel –and gives me a kiss on the cheek.

“Thank you!” I blurt out – “that was wonderful! The high spot of my week!”

“You’re welcome – I enjoyed it too! See you later.”

But what’s going on? Envy? Guilt? Sensuality? Gratitude? A whole chemistry of thoughts and feelings now flood my brain. For I had never thought that the Spanish Inquisition might be like this!

happy campers relax by the River Nene

Nevertheless, despite this, and despite (or even because of) all the unexpected moments in the cruise, I was well and truly “all aboard” on this new adventure in my life. From now on, on a day-to-day basis, my interest in canals and planning for the next trip would become the bread and butter - and jam - of my life.

Cast off the ropes!!

De-winterising tips

As we head towards spring, the temperature change signals the start of the cruising season and with it a need to de-winterise your boat. River Canal Rescue’s managing director, Stephanie Horton, advises what to focus on.

Water

Close any taps left open throughout the winter, replace the water heater plug (if removed) and switch on the water pump. Test the system for leaks or issues, and open/run water through each tap.  Start with those closest to the pump and work through to the one furthest away – this will push any air locks through the system.  Drain out any water in the tank and refill with fresh drinking water.

Engine

When considering servicing, include the engine, LPG and electrical systems, fire extinguishers and escape hatches. Check the oil (level and condition) - you’ll see whether the engine needs a top-up or service (the latter if the oil’s black).

Service your engine yearly or every 250 running hours (whichever comes first). Change all fluid filters and check the air filter. Even if they’re clean, it’s good practice to change them so they work well for the coming season. Run and test the engine to check for leaks and performance.

Check the antifreeze level - if it’s low, it could be due to a leak; make any necessary repairs and top up levels in case there’s a cold snap (you never know).

At RCR, we undertake engine servicing and inspections from mid-September to mid-March each year with discounted rates for members.

Fuel

Water in the fuel is one of the biggest causes of breakdowns and poor engine performance, so before running the engine, remove any excess water from the water trap filters.  If water is present or there are signs of diesel bug (black dust or jelly) - dip the tank to identify its severity and treat with a fuel treatment or polish the fuel.

If you don’t have a water trap filter, check the main fuel tank using a clear plastic hose.  Drop it into the tank (don’t disturb the fuel) and when you feel the bottom, place your thumb over the end to seal it and withdraw the hose. This should provide you with a sample of the tank (plus an indication of any diesel bug contamination) and show the amount of water present.

There is debate around what causes sticky fuel – a change in fuel density that appears to clog up injection pump racks, injectors and filter head plungers, and block fuel filters. A common denominator in all reported cases is the use of fuel treatments. They in themselves are not at fault; but there may be a link with fuel and chemical breakdown when stored for a while.

We now advise people to leave their fuel tanks empty when the boat is not in use over winter and upon return, drain off any water build-up, treat the remaining fuel and then add fresh. If using a fuel treatment, given we know chemicals start to breakdown within six months and we believe this is one of the contributing factors, use it within six to 12 months of purchase.

A strong smell of turps signals you may have a sticky fuel problem. If you think this is the case, overhaul the injectors and/or pump, empty the tank and refill with fresh fuel.

Bolts and terminals

Check bolts on couplings, engine mounts (only adjust the bottom bolt) and prop shaft are tight, and clean off any corrosion on battery terminals. Check the fan belt for tightness and wear (cracks and fraying are a sure sign it needs relacing) and gearbox oil levels.

A traditional stern gland should leak, but if it’s leaking too much, it probably needs adjusting and greasing. If this does not resolve it, it needs repacking.

Cooling system

Run your engine up to ‘running’ temperature (if there’s a gauge) or for approximately half an hour.  Check the cooling system for leaks or escaping steam and if something is found, ensure jubilee clips are tight.  If a split pipe is evident call out a qualified engineer. Finally put the engine into gear and check the control leaver operation, it should move freely with no tightness or ‘grabbing’, grease the ends, check for fraying, and replace if required.

Bilges and pumps

Remove all waste from the bilges and clean them. This helps you spot any developing leaks or issues throughout the coming season and reduces the risk of contaminants being pumped into our waterways.

A bilge pump is a must – it keeps your vessel safe, so it’s important to have the right type of bilge pump and install it correctly.

A maintenance pump manages small levels of water ingress consistently so requires replacing after a few years. Position it in an area where water ingress is likely, such as near the stern gland or directly under deck boards.

An emergency pump acts as an early-warning system, so it has to be automatic (responding without prompting) and positioned in an area at risk of serious ingress, and two-three inches higher than the maintenance pump. By making the outlet point as visible as possible, water pumped overboard will alert you to a serious issue.

Ideally vessels should both pumps. Also install a Bilgeaway filter- it uses a non-toxic solution to extract petrol, diesel, engine oil etc from water and renders them non-reactive, leaving environmentally-friendly contents in a cartridge which can be disposed of and the housing re-used.

Deck clearance

Clear deck drains of any leaves and debris – it will reduce the amount of water that enters the bilge and prevent rust occurring within the gunnels.

Ok first things first ! I’ve sold Dawn Treader – though I sometimes forget I have, because it’s been such a long time -2008 !

More importantly I’ve sold her to people who would enjoy her and are very much like myself at their age – and I think that’s important. The world cannot be just about money: Ask two prominent members of society who fell from grace, if they thought it was worth it!

I think it’s like so many things in life; you gradually grow apart and familiarity keeps you together. Deep down I am a sailor, Atlantic winner, Royal ocean racing club kind of thing and I miss sailing – I miss the sense of power of wind and tide. And I still have a sailing Dinghy which seldom gets used.

Then there are the costs which are turning a hobby into an expensive past time – ok you can’t just divide the hours you spend on a boat with the annual cost of running it, but neither can you ignore rising mooring fees, licence, fuel, gas, - you name it. It all just keeps rising.

Whereas the Dinghy goes on a car roof and can be kept in the shed.

I’ve enjoyed every minute of canals and will (do) miss my adventures in an old Dawncraft my children grew up with – which was "home", escape pod - you name it, and kept me amused and doing something for years. But it’s time, as it seems it is from the adverts for so many other hobby-boaters.

All I can say is thank you for reading my articles. I hope they inspired some of you.

All the best,

Simon Woollen

spring blossom

Spring has arrived and it’s the season of foraging as all those bulbs and roots produce their young green shoots after the sleepy winter months. Wild garlic is the most popular and my absolute favourite!

The boat roof garden herbs are showing new growth, probably the earliest being the chives and mint which pair perfectly with Spring recipes. Leafy greens, cauliflower, broccoli and forced rhubarb are also in season, my favourite ways of cooking tender stem broccoli and Spring cabbage are to steam, pan fry or roast and then add some lemon butter or tahini dressing.

It’s also Spring onion and radish season!

This year, in addition to the usual herb roof garden I’m growing some sprouting seeds for micro greens. They can be grown pretty much all year round and include alfalfa, pea shoots, radish and fenugreek, to name a few. Mustard and cress are of course nice and easy to grow without compost or maintenance, just over a few damp pieces of kitchen roll, and just as delicious to add to any light meal.

Sometimes less is more with ingredients and simple pasta dishes can often be thrown together and made delicious by adding combinations using fresh herbs or foraged greens. Tagliatelle tossed in wild garlic, lemon juice, black pepper and good quality oil or a knob of butter is one of these. Add a few chopped walnuts or chilli for an extra twist.

Roasted veg to include cauliflower and beetroot are delicious when made with a spice rub using cumin seeds or ground cumin, paprika, salt, pepper, lemon and oil; or a harissa spice blend such as rose harissa, distinctive for it’s hot and smoky flavours with a floral sweetness. Serve with hummus, greens or a flatbread for a delicious feast.

Both Tahini and Miso make amazing additions to any dressing to complete any crunchy salad or roasted vegetables. These for me are such useful store cupboard ingredients, just a little jar of paste, bursting with flavour. Tahini, made from ground sesame seeds, gives that nutty and earthy flavour. Miso is made from slow fermented soya beans and grains and gives that intense level of umami to savoury dishes, like a sweet and creamy savoury hit.

PAN FRIED PEPPERS WITH CHICK PEAS AND TAHINI DRESSING
Simply chop red onion and peppers, add 2 tsp rose harissa paste and pan fry, add the chick peas towards the end. Serve over a bed of salad greens and finish with the dressing made from 1 tbsp tahini, 2 tbsp cider vinegar, 1 tbsp olive or avocado oil, pinch sea salt flakes and black pepper, loosen with water.

MISO ROASTED CAULIFLOWER
For the paste:
2 tbsp each of miso, soy sauce, honey or agave syrup,
1 tsp garlic crushed,
splash olive oil,
pinch salt and pepper.
Combine all the ingredients together.

The cauliflower can be left whole, cut into steaks or florets. Cooking time depends on the size.
Coat with the paste and roast in the oven, or pan fry, turning to ensure all sides are equally browned.
Serve with a simple dressing of natural yoghurt, squeeze lemon or cider vinegar, olive oil and
black pepper.

Here’s a twist on a fish pie with a miso twist.

MISO MUSTARD FISH PIE

250g white fish such as Hake, Cod or Haddock
100g greens such as French beans or sprouting broccoli
175g crème fraiche
2 tbsp miso paste
1 tbsp English mustard
2 tsp capers, chopped or 30g gherkins from a jar, finely chopped
small handful fresh chives, chopped, plus extra to garnish
2 garlic cloves, crushed to a paste
juice of ½ lemon
1 tbsp light brown sugar
1 tsp coarse ground black pepper
generous pinch sea salt flakes
Finely sliced and boiled new potatoes (about 500g) with butter to top
Pre-heat the oven to 180 fan.
Par boil the potatoes to just cooked and set aside, using the same water blanch the beans or
broccoli for just a couple of minutes. Make sure they drain well to reduce moisture in the
bottom of the dish when baking.
Line the base of an ovenproof dish with a few potatoes (save the rest for the top) and the drained
cooked greens, lay the uncooked fish on top.
In a separate bowl whisk together all the remaining ingredients and spoon over the fish, covering
completely in a thick layer.
Place the rest of the cooked potatoes over the top, dot with butter and bake in the oven for
about 20 minutes until golden on top.
Perfectly pairs with charred cabbage. Simply cut the cabbage into wedges and char in hot pan
with a little butter, if you prefer a less crunchy version, drop in a pan of hot water first, drain well
and pan fry to char.

Scones are quick and easy to make and most basic scone recipes can be adapted to create different versions. The best one by far has to be the cheese and wild garlic one! Another favourite is a lemon and blueberry, but instead I’m sharing a gluten-free and fat free lemon and blueberry muffin recipe.

CHEESE AND WILD GARLIC SCONES

225g self-raising flour
1 tsp baking powder
50g butter, finely cubed
100g finely grated cheese, mature or smoked Cheddar, Shropshire red works really well
Small handful wild garlic leaves, about 30g, finely chopped
1 tsp cayenne pepper Generous pinch of black pepper
1 egg, beaten
Milk
Extra cheese to top, about 20g
Rub the butter into the flour and baking powder for a crumb consistency, stir in the cheese, cayenne and pepper along with the finely chopped wild garlic leaves. Then add the beaten egg and just enough milk to bring the mixture together.
Turn onto a floured worktop and firm into a round about 2cm thick, then cut into scones.
Dust the cutter in flour to help make a clean cut and work straight down instead of twisting, this keeps a better shape when baking.
Place the scones onto a greased, lined tray and scatter the extra cheese on top.
Bake in a preheated 220 fan oven for about 12 to 15 minutes.
Best eaten warm, sliced and buttered.

BLUEBERRY LEMON MUFFINS

Dry ingredients:
1 cup almond flour
1 cup oat flour or rolled oats, I use rolled oats blitzed to a coarse flour in the mini chopper
½ tsp bicarb of soda
¼ tsp salt
½ tsp cinnamon

Wet ingredients:
1 large egg (substitute with flax egg for vegan version)
1 banana mashed (about ½ cup measure)
1/3 cup maple or agave syrup
¼ cup melted coconut oil or olive oil
finely grated zest of ½ lemon and 2 tsp juice
2 tbsp milk or oat milk
1 cup blueberries, if using frozen dust them in flour first.

Mix together the dry ingredients in one bowl and the wet in another. Then combine the two. Gently fold in the blueberries. Spoon into the muffin cases and bake at 175 fan for 20 to 25 mins. Can also be made as a tray bake and cut into squares.

It’s a little early for dandelion season but it won’t be long. So here’s my dandelion honey recipe. It’s perfect for adding to hot drinks, morning porridge, muesli, smoothies, baking recipes such as flapjacks, salad dressings, roasted veg, sticky bbq glaze, salad dressings, the list is endless!

DANDELION HONEY

Pick the dandelion heads when fully open, give each one a gentle shake to let any insects escape and patiently pull the petals from each head for optimum sweetness, the base of the f lower head can have a bitter taste.
Place in a large bowl along with a couple of slices of lemon and just cover with cold water. Leave to steep overnight.
The next day strain all the liquid into a saucepan, it’s best to use a sieve lined with kitchen roll. You’ll be amazed how it already smells like honey.
Measure your liquid and weigh out an equal ratio of sugar, for every ml of liquid use 1g sugar. Bring the liquid to the boil, add the sugar and boil rapidly for a few minutes.
Test for setting point on a cold plate by dropping a little syrup off the end of a teaspoon, tip the plate and if it doesn’t run off it’s ready to jar.
Pour into sterilised jars.
Don’t worry if for any reason your honey doesn’t reach setting point, dandelion syrup is just as good.

Lots more seasonal recipes can be discovered by looking back at previous editions of CanalsOnline magazine, just click on previous articles and four whole years’ worth can be found. More can be found on my Canal Cuisine Facebook page. Have a great Spring and I’ll have more for you in the Summer.

Ken lives in Texas, but for many years worked for an International Company in the UK. There he learned to appreciate the Towpath and the quiet aspects of British culture. He writes stories about people who live between places where lives move at the pace of water and weather. His Tow Path Series blends contemporary romance, paranormal, and mystery with community-driven storytelling, rooted in the everyday rhythms of life.

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Ken Jolly is a 75-year-old cowboy who lives in Texas. Has the boots and hat. His Great-Great Grandfather led a company of Virginians to Texas in 1836 to fight in the War of the Rebellion and served as First Lieutenant.  He participated in the Grass Fight and the Battle of San Jacinto. He was awarded the Land Grant, which the family still owns. To transport his small force to Texas, he brought a Brig, and after the Texas Navy lost its first four ships, he donated the vessel to the Navy and rechristened it the “San Jacinto”.

In his previous role, Ken served as a CAD/BIM Coordinator at an International Corporation, which required extensive travel. There he learned to appreciate the Tow Path and the quiet aspects of British culture. He can be found on weekends two-stepping at local dives, playing the fiddle, or fly-fishing. He writes stories about people who live between places where lives move at the pace of water and weather. His Tow Path Series blends contemporary romance, paranormal, and mystery with community-driven storytelling, rooted in the everyday rhythms of life.

Ken began writing technical manuals in 2010 and, upon retiring, has recently branched into fiction genres. He has a distinct writing voice across genres and establishes individual character arcs, adding unique direction and credibility to his actors.

He is a sailor, and his boat in Texas travels slightly faster than 4 knots when the wind is blowing, and he has often had to execute short tacks while going up canals. He actually lived on board the boat for most of a year through a brutal winter. However, he sees joy in living the slower pace of the canal. A lifelong observer of waterways, Ken is drawn to the quiet drama of small decisions, shared meals, late-night conversations, and the way music, memory, and place shape who we become. His characters are often rebuilding—boats, relationships, and themselves—finding connection not in grand gestures, but in steady hands, shared labour, and the trust earned over time. Some of his writing drifts into the paranormal, as he was the Leader of a ghost-hunting group, Paranormal Investigations and Eliminations (PIE), for many years.

When he isn’t writing, Ken can usually be found walking, studying the craft of storytelling, or listening for the kind of music that sounds better drifting across water at dusk. The Tow Path Series is his love letter to canal communities—past and present—and to the idea that home is always on the water.

Amazon books, where Ken's books can be purchased in a variety of forms, introduce his Tow Path Series thus:

"Set along the winding canals and hidden waterways of Europe, The Tow Path Series blends romance, music, and community into a tapestry of modern canal life. Each book explores the lives of those who choose the water as home—narrowboat dwellers, traveling musicians, wanderers, and dreamers—where the pace of the canal contrasts sharply with the turbulence of love, ambition, and second chances.

With recurring characters and overlapping storylines, the series paints an intimate portrait of a floating community bound together by locks, pubs, festivals, and the timeless rhythm of the towpath. The stories explore themes of belonging, self-discovery, and connection, often with a fire-and-wild romantic undercurrent that pushes characters to navigate both their waterways and their hearts.

At once tender and gritty, The Tow Path Series offers readers an immersive escape into a world where every bend in the canal reveals not only scenic vistas, but also new adventures, new faces, and the possibility of love where it’s least expected. "  (Amazon)

Review:

Ken Jolly writes with the precision of an engineer and the heart of a storyteller. A lifelong craftsman of words and design, he has authored acclaimed guides on architecture and technology, but his true passion lies in exploring the human connections that shape our lives.

When he’s not writing, Ken can often be found aboard his sailboat or imagining the quiet towpaths of England’s canals, where the rhythms of water and music inspire his stories. His love of the violin, his eye for detail, and his deep curiosity about people bring authenticity to the characters he creates.

Mooring Lines is his first romance set in the canal boat world, weaving together love, loss, and second chances against the backdrop of narrowboats and community life. With a craftsman’s discipline and a romantic’s heart, Ken proves that love stories told by men can be just as tender, raw, and true.

There are currently 7 novels in the Tow Path Tales series, all of which are available on Amazon KIndle The 7th book, 'Thin Water on the Canal', has only recently been published. Some of the books are also available as Audio books,  and all as paperbacks.

Ken's first book in the series, Mooring Lines, can be found serialized in this magazine - Ken Jolly, Author at CanalsOnline Magazine 

Britain’s waterways support a wide mix of activity. Leisure craft, passenger boats, commercial operators, and maintenance vessels often share the same space. This variety brings character and vitality to canals and rivers, yet it also places a shared responsibility on those who operate vessels professionally. Safe conduct on the water depends on preparation, awareness, and respect for recognised standards.

Many risks on inland waterways develop quietly. Restricted visibility, changing weather, shallow channels, and close quarters manoeuvring can all challenge even experienced crews. When these conditions combine with public access and mixed skill levels, the importance of professional competence becomes clear.

Formal learning plays a central role in meeting these challenges, and recognised programmes such as STCW courses provide structured knowledge that supports safe practice across maritime settings. These courses establish a common understanding of safety principles that apply well beyond offshore environments.

Understanding safety responsibilities on inland waterways

Inland waterways are shared spaces. Commercial operators may work alongside private boaters who have varying levels of experience. This mix increases the need for predictable, professional behaviour from those operating vessels as part of their work.

Responsibilities extend beyond vessel control. Awareness of passenger safety, communication with other waterway users, and readiness to respond to incidents all influence outcomes. Professional crews are often looked to as examples of good practice, particularly in busy or constrained areas.

The role of recognised maritime standards

Standards exist to create consistency. When crews share a common foundation of training, expectations become clearer and responses more reliable. International maritime standards provide guidance on safety, emergency response, and personal responsibility that remains relevant across different operating environments.

Training aligned with these standards helps reduce ambiguity. Crews understand not only what actions to take, but why those actions matter. This understanding supports sound judgement when situations fall outside routine procedures.

Training as a foundation for competence

Competence develops through structured learning combined with experience. Training provides the framework that allows experience to be interpreted correctly. Without that framework, habits can replace judgement, increasing risk over time.

How professional training supports everyday operations

Daily tasks on waterways often appear straightforward. Mooring, loading, and navigation become familiar quickly. Training helps crews recognise that routine work still carries risk. Situational awareness, correct use of equipment, and effective communication all depend on underlying knowledge.

When unexpected situations arise, trained crews respond more calmly. Clear understanding of emergency procedures reduces hesitation and confusion, protecting both crew and the public.

Relevance of STCW knowledge beyond offshore roles

Although STCW standards are often associated with offshore or international shipping, the principles they teach apply broadly. Fire prevention, first aid, and emergency response are just as relevant on inland vessels, particularly those carrying passengers or operating commercially.

These principles support safer interaction with other waterway users. Professional conduct reduces the likelihood of incidents and builds trust within the wider boating community.

Maintaining competence through ongoing learning

Competence is not static. Equipment changes, regulations evolve, and operating environments shift. Regular refresher training helps crews maintain confidence and update their knowledge as conditions change.

Ongoing learning also supports consistency across teams. New staff integrate more smoothly when training expectations are clear, and experienced crew benefit from revisiting core principles.

Practical benefits for employers and operators

Well trained crews contribute to smoother operations. Incidents decline, communication improves, and regulatory scrutiny becomes easier to manage. Training also supports retention by giving staff confidence in their roles.

Building trust on shared waterways

Public confidence in professional operators depends on visible competence. Calm, predictable behaviour reassures other waterway users and supports cooperation in busy areas. This trust is built gradually through consistent practice rather than isolated actions.

Training reinforces this consistency. Crews who share common standards approach situations with similar priorities, reducing misunderstandings and unnecessary conflict.

Conclusion

Safe waterway operations rely on preparation long before a vessel leaves its berth. Training provides the knowledge that underpins good judgement and responsible conduct. It supports professionals in managing risk while respecting the shared nature of inland waterways.

Recognised learning pathways, including STCW courses, contribute to this preparation by establishing clear expectations and practical understanding. When training aligns with real operating conditions, it becomes a valuable tool for sustaining safety and professionalism across the waterway network.