Not Granny's Button

While we were in Banbury, we splashed out on a brand new button (stern fender for those not waterways wise), as our old sisal one had just about had it. We suspect that it was second hand when installed anyway, Bernard or Richard at Swiftcraft probably found it lying around the humpy that they call their workshop. Anyway it was also too short and would only protect the rudder when the helm was push it right over.

We had also tried to install the thing at our (very public mooring) in Banbury. Five minutes into this spectator sport, I dropped the shackle bolt into the cut. It is very difficult not to say things that shouldn't be heard by women and children when that sort of thing happens, so we gave up for the time being - couldn't find another shackle anyway.

I bought another shackle bolt (and a few spares) from Arrow engineering supplies in Rugby and set to work fitting the button, turnbuckles and all to the stern. This would be a lot easier if you could kneel or squat on the water while holding said button (as would cleaning and painting the other side of the boat), but that sort of feat hasn't been achieved for about 2,000 years. I really like having the taff rails to sit on and the swan neck is a wonderful steering aid, but the contortions your body performs to suspend a heavy button over the stern while fastening the shackles can be excruciating.

Luckily Neil and Ruth were here doing some work on Nerus, because Neil lent sturdy assistance from the pontoon side - he has great stamina and patience. Anyway with a bit of team effort the job was accomplished, The highest accolade should be awarded to Jeeves, who wth great determination managed to attach the bottom chain!

Brinklow Marina is indeed in a beautiful location, however it is rather exposed to the wind. Earlier I was explaining that painting the other side of the boat is a bit tricky when only one side is up against the pontoon. Neil and Ruth noticed this too, when they were placing their boat name transfers on the bows - starboard easy, port not so. But of course turning the boat around is the answer (power cable out of reach of course, but port side accessible). So Neil took Nerus out of the berth astern - it is a doddle to do a 180 degree turn in a marina this size isn't it???

While all this was supposed to be happening, it was a lovely day outside, and we were enjoying coffee and cakes in the saloon aboard Gleemaiden . . . . . .


Remember what the weather has been like? Well, it was perfectly calm when Neil backed out, but went from force 1 to force 9 on the Beaufort scale as soon as he got 10 degrees of the turn in. Narrowboats are not built for sailing, but in open water with the wind broadside on, they can go faster sideways than we are allowed to travel forwards on the canals - Nerus nearly did. So Neil decided that discretion was the better part of valour and motored down the end of the marina, turned and made another attempt. Success this time.

It was a bit of a race against time though, with Nerus approaching from the North at 3 miles an hour and a huge squall heading for the now empty pontoon from Church Laawford in the south - Neil got there first, but only just. Then of course, there was no outside work until the weather passed.

It might have been noticed by the keen sighted observers that images posted on this site have been somewhat marred by a blur in the top right hand sector of the photos. I thought that I had bought another technological lemon, with no recourse to a photographic shop to apologise and have the fault remedied. Careful observation showed a slight smudge on the lens of the camera. God knows how it got there, the thing is covered most of the time, anyway with great care and a very soft cloth, I think I have removed it. As these pictures taken subsequently by Audrone should demonstrate. They were taken last night actually; the light and colour is a bonus that can be gleaned from.

This is very tedious you know - especially editing, so . . I'm not yet ready to give up my day job as a retiree.

Topsy turvy week

So much for cruising - we seem to be having April weather in May, but then that is not really daunting, as we had May weather in April and took advantage of it! This goes to shoe that we are not necessarily 'die hard' boaters and are prone to put off setting out in gale force winds and rain squalls (although if out and caught in it. . . well, that is life isn't it?).

We have however, had some good on board entertainment and some frolicking in the local watering holes with visitors - notably Loretta who dropped in last week between visits to relatives in Dublin, Donegal and York. It was good to catch up with Loretta again - she was going to visit us last year when her Aunt was in Coventry and we were in York - but then Rugby and Coventry are a lot closer to London that Bradford!

The accompanying images are not of Loretta, but of Jeeves and Aunt Agatha taken on board while dinner was being prepared - they had both visited the Plant Display at Easenhall. Those fluffy toys incidentally are the same tweety birds that hold forth conversations with their live cousins on the cut (see Blogs passim). And no, I do not think that two cans of Merydown is an excessive amount of cider - not compared with 10 cans of Carlsberg Special Brew, Gussy Finknottle!!!

Pictures when I get back. . . . . Right so here I am and there are they.

Other friends have turned up at the Marina, this week. David and Doreen who own 'Beaurepair' which is an old name for the region around and including Belper in Derbyshire.

The point made earlier about spring showers and the like were very well brought home to David and Doreen who set off at 07:00 on Tuesday morning with a good chance of getting through Hawkesbury Junction by the afternoon. They did; but not after being rained on hailed on and blown all over the cut - as I mentioned very blustery weather.

Both Doreen and David managed to lose their glasses on this trip, but David struck gold in a pub where he was having lunch: the gaffer wanted to know why he hadn't decided what to order having scrutinised the menu for some time, so David explained the predicament:

'I can't read it, can I?'

'Why not?' Asked the concerned chap.

'Lost my flippin' specs - they went in the canal' said David.

'Might be able to sort that for you, just try some of these that have been left behind.' Offered the helpful gaffer.





David did;



. . . . . . And was able to order a smashing good pub meal. hear is wearing them now, having been allowed to keep the specs that let him read his dinner menu. Pity I can't expect to do use any specs but my own - if mine were any stronger, I'd be looking at the world upside down.

Audrone had a splendid idea; we meet the intrepid pair at Stretton Stop, which we did. NB Beaurepair slid nicely through the ready opened swing bridge and I stepped aboard to meet up with everybody back at Brinklow. Audrone took Doreen by car, Richard (the son in law & Mr Van Man) must at this time have been less that amused waiting at the gate with his van, given that D & D had told him that we would be there.

Well we we weren't actually as the pictures show, we were all over the North Oxford in boats, vans and cars.

Thing is though, I have to take my hat off to David, who stood at the tiller for 14 hours. And endured one of the heaviest rainfall I've ever had to endure with the bathroom hatch only a quarter of an inch open - I was soaked and not even in the shower!

Now I have to tell the story of NERUS. But I need a new entry for this. So the next post will begin with a load of eggy nonsensense.

Aaaaagh, the whole stupid system went into meldown - here is the eggy bit anyway.

Yes, well, these little chaps seem to have some an understanding of what it is like to have an egg for breakfast - and a little bit of toast, but they don't know about that.


Neill and Ruth were doing the signwriting on NERUS while this was happening, so they are innocent!!

Another May Day

A bit of a dull one today, but not lousy enough to prevent us taking a very pleasant cross country excursion (on foot) to Easenhall where we had a chat with or lady host and a nice cold glass of lager. Oddly enough, for a man of Kent, I haven't really taken to supping on the vast selection of real ales that are available. I tend to drink cider, if a decent drop is available or a nice crisp lager. And of course quite often wine, which one has to be a bit selective about, given that some pubs pass off absolute rubbish at a rather hefty price. All in all, something sparkling and refreshing is needed after a good walk.

Our host at the Golden lion in Easenhall liked our walking sticks. They were purchased in Arundel from a shop that specialises in walking sticks, carrying a very diverse stock of them - some are awfully pricey too. The one shown in the picture is the latest acquisition, but I can't remember what sort of wood it is. Has a fish in the antler horn bit of the top anyway which I suppose is quite appropriate.

A short time ago, when we were up at the crack of dawn we saw the oddest animals wandering through the shrubbery (no, it wasn't a field). They had these funny spots all over them and their faces in the half light had a piggy quality about them. We thought that they may have escaped from somewhere, but there were to many to draw that conclusion. It seems that they were giant spotted sheep, accompanied by their lambs, munching their way through the gorsy hillside adjacent to the cut.

Picasa Web Albums - Richard

Picasa Web Albums - Richard

Picasa Web Albums - Richard

Picasa Web Albums - Richard

Back at Brinklow again

Slowly but surely, I am bringing these posts closer to the 'here and now'.

Spring has certainly brought some colour to Warwickshire.

Went for a bit of a walk and the countryside is buzzing with bird calls, bleating of lambs and cattle lowing.

The bluebells are quite stunning too, but mostly hidden in the woods behing signs of 'Private Wood - Keep Out'. Not very welcoming or sharing, but nobody there to enforce against a peek at the flowers.

That us enough chat for the moment, methinks I put too much text into this activity.

However, there is one more important thing to say; we would both like to wish Neil and Ruth from NB Nerus a very warm congratulations on their 30th wedding anniversary. When we celebrate our 30th, we might be a little older than the youthful Neil and Ruth!

. . . . . and more bluebells.

A day in Cropredy

As well as having two interesting pubs and a magnificent church, this village is probably most famous for the folk festival that is held here in August every year since Fairport Convention played their farewell concert here forty years ago. Appropriately the festival is called; Fairport's Cropredy Convention. We intend to attend this year's event, taking the boat rather than a tent, but I believe that moorings get a bit thin on the ground over this particular weekend.

The village is also famous for a battle that was fought here during the Civil War in 1644. The events are commemorated in Ralph McTell's song Red And Gold, recorded by Fairport Convention, and the bridge over the River Cherwell has an informative information board.

Of the two pubs, the Red Lion is probably the most picturesque, both inside and out, given that it is a thatched mid-terraced building opposite the church in (you guessed it) Red Lion Street - This is how they describe themselves:

'It would be difficult to imagine a more picturesque building than The Red Lion Inn with its walls of honey-coloured local stone and its roof of grey, beautifully crafted thatch. Even the porch has its own covering of thatch.'

As it happens, the food is jolly good too, and reasonably priced. The only things is; what about the history of the pub? The owners who have their own website, appear to be asking the same question! By the way, notice in the picture above that there are straps like those seen on the London underground for hanging on to - I wonder what they are for???

Before having our meal in the Red Lion, we spent some time looking through St Mary the Virgin church opposite and there are some very interesting historic features to be found in there, although I believe that the suit of armour and Civil War mementos are follies, the real items being stolen many years ago.

The Bells are rung from the ground floor beneath a huge 14ft pendulum belonging to the clock mechanism high above, just below the belfry.

I was also obliged to listen to a sermon given by the Very Rev. Audrone before I was given shore leave to visit the Red Lion! See below.

The next day, I did ring the bells (well the fourth actually), at a special practice night that was held for all ringers in the district. It was lucky that on this occasion we were moored nearby and heard the bells start much earlier than their advertised time of 19:00, because I would have missed out if I hadn't wandered up immediately. The session was run by an Australian woman who came across as very authoritarian and wouldn't countenance plain hunt and only allowed one session of call changes, so rather than hang around hoping, I meandered back to the boat.

Never mind, we got back to Brinklow in time for a much more productive practice on Wednesday and had a jolly good ring for the Service on Sunday. We sounded quite professional in fact, even if there were only five of us.

Now here is a short pictorial presentation of Cropredy, followed by a brief story of the man from Suid Africa:

The South African chap was moored up next to the Canal bridge nearest to the store. and as we passed on the towpath heading for Gleemaiden and full of good cheer and food

from the Red Lion, we came across three people sitting in their well-deck. Chap turned out to be called Richard (which caused some interesting confusion in the introductions) and the two ladies were visiting friends. They asked us aboard and we swapped stories over a few glasses of red wine. The renowned hospitality that is legendary on The Cut was further reinforced!!

A bit more about Banbury and Cropredy

I know, I know, I am so stupidly slow in keeping up with what has happened on this site, that much of it is past history by the time it is written. Never mind though. the observations remain the same and the pictures were obviously take in 'real time'.

The Oxford canal is not only shallow, but very narrow in places, it is no wonder that working boats weren't fond of using it. David Blagrove also mentions the use of 'Banbury stick' to open and close the lift bridges in his book 'Bread On The Waters' as a time saving device when working a boat through them. Mind you, these days most of them have been removed or remain in the open position, which when not having to operate them, makes it easy to say 'what a pity'. I wonder if we would ever say that about the horrid swing bridges on the Leeds & Liverpool Canal?

Banbury has a lift bridge still in use, of course it does! It is in the centre of the museum and historic boatyard part of the town centre stretch. This one though is operated by windlass and much easier to open that the average lock paddle. Children seem to enjoy riding up and down the balance beam despite being admonished by a safety conscious Jeeves who was working the boat through at the time.

This is a very busy bit of waterway, and on our return, we found ourselves negotiating firstly the lock, then watering up and passing back through the lift bridge all in the space of about two hundred yards. Meanwhile other boaters kept the lock and the bridge active, while teenagers sat around on steps at the entrance to the Castle Key shopping complex. This is a huge development about which I can't think of anything nice to say - except that the toilets were clean.

One good thing about Banbury is that there are plenty of good moorings right in the centre of town. It would appear the the Council has decided that their new development and picturesque surroundings replete with a footbridge over the canal and lot of canal-side seating, would be better enhanced by having boaters who really do move around and wish only to stay one or two days rather than 14 days to 14 years, turning the towpath into a sort of side garden for storing old household furniture and other rubbish carefully protected with bright blue plastic sheets.

All being equal, it is rather splendid to be able to be able to moor up in the middle of such a historic town. last time we were here was 1997 and were besotted by the idea that the Oxford Canal ran through Banbury itself. Back then we were too interested in the canal to pay much attention to Banbury and left it to drive on to Braunston. We saw a lot more this time, although sadly the original cross has been replaced by a 19th. century version, part of the atmosphere remains, despite the Castle Key shopping mall. How's this for a wine shop? Very pricey though, annoyingly enough, the only off licence in the whole of Banbury - it was lucky that we didn't have to purchase anything until we returned to Cropredy, all wet rations safely aboard in the bond store.

There are of course some magnificent old pubs in Banbury, but our favourite was the 'Ye Olde Reindeer', an Elizabethan pub dating from 1570 according to Michael Pearson. The staff were wonderfully friendly and recommend that we view the Globe Room where Oliver Cromwell held court while planning battles such as that of Cropredy Bridge. The whole room has been restored after being sold and left to collect dust in a London warehouse for many years. The original ceiling is still missing. The landlord sent shivers down our spines when he told us that the whole room would have been sold to a collector in the United States, had the sale gone through. Anyway, it is back where it belongs now and looks every bit at good as it does in the paintings on the walls and in the corridors leading to the room.

We had lunch there the following day, soaking up the atmosphere. Can't say much for the lunch though. All in all a lovely part of our history, set in a wonderful low beamed traditional pub.

Well, here is something Elisabethan to rub along with our visit to Banbury:

Ride a cock horse to Banbury Cross

To see a fine lady upon a white horse

With rings on her fingers and bells on her toes

She shall have music wherever she goes

The nursery rhyme was most likely related to a visit made by Queen Elizabeth in the 16th century. It is none the less rather evocative of an Oxfordshire town in those days. One one wonders what good Queen Bess would have made of seeing a canal running past the town centre.

To Banbury - part two

Napton Locks - the bottom lock,

. . .and this one is about half way.

I never went back to edit the last post and put in the pictures as that I meant to - I always find distractions from writing this, It is a bit like doing University assignments; even doing dishes looks interesting. It is now another day, so here they are on this one instead.

Another break, , , back later . . . . and here we are back again. Much water (or boat actually) under the bridge.

When we moored up at Marston Doles, a very naughty pussy cat belonging to the boat ahead of us leaped on board and proceeded to inspect the saloon, before being called back by its owner who said 'sorray' several times. Just above the top lock at Marston Doles is a lovely place to moor, very peaceful, lots of birds,but no pubs or shops - so stock up on the wet and dry rations before you get there.

Thursday was not particularly good weather wise, but we had expected that, having monitored to Met forecast fairly closely. A start at 0745 hours gave us a good start for the long windy bit of the Oxford and the narrow part which used to be Fenny Compton Tunnel until the roof was removed.

Now this whole things has us rather bemused; firstly what happened to the roof? And secondly, where did they put it? The fenny thing is that as you go along (or through) Fenny Compton Tunnel today, you wonder how a roof could have fitted over the fairly low embankments either side of the canal. If you wanted to restore it to proper tunnel status, all that is needed is a glass roof like the one over Paddington and other London railway stations. Luckily we didn't meet an eager boater coming the other way - there definitely isn't any room for passing! Speaking of Railway Towns and villages; or sort of anyway, out in the fields we passed what surely must be Greater Foxwood (see picture) but Audrone wouldn't let me stop to introduce myself to the inhabitants. There must be at least two pubs in there and a huge goods yard. I can only surmise that all the engines and rolling stock would have to be LMS as the Oxford Canal is adjacent to the town. . .

Along this stretch of the cut the landscape is open and largely

unpopulated, medieval ridge and furrow can clearly be seen even though the land has long been enclosed and used largely for grazing or growing crops of rape, corn etc. The livestock look at you with brown staring eyes and I think of Syd Barratt after he had imbibed too much LSD - the lights are on, but there's nobody home. We did pass some bulls though, which I think may have wished that if they could walk on water would have had a rum time with us.

We wondered what the funny looking sheds were that seemed to have been dumped and half sunk into the banks not far from water's edge. Then Audrone noticed that these were not frail wooden lean-to's but constructed from solid concrete block with small square windows. They are WW2 bunkers or blockhouses; the last line of defence put in place to resist the invading Germans should they have arrived. It just goes to show how far we were prepared to go before reaching the last line of defence. These blockhouses are right in the 'heart of England', after them, there is nothing left to defend! There was a documentary on this subject about six months ago on the BBC, it seems that we would have been successful in defending the country even if the Germans had landed, and also goes to show how determined my father's generation were to do so.

The Claydon flight was the next obstacle for us to tackle. The odd thing is that we are actually getting to enjoy the locking up and down. I think this is attributable to the diminutive lock width and extra length that the narrow waterways present. Oop North the locks are short, but wide, deep and heavy to operate. However it was on this flight that Audrone encountered some pretty silly boaters of the hire boat species.

We all know that there are learning curves and such to be negotiated when starting out and that boating is not a race against time, but really; to open only one paddle a notch at a time before walking over to check how much water is going into the lock? And then spending an extra five minutes in the lock after they had to gate open. . . is fine, and wouldn't have mattered if I hadn't anticipated that they were actually going to continue their cruise instead of having a cup of tea in the lock with the gate open. Suffice to say that when the said boat did edge cautiously from the lock, Gleemaiden was now sitting mid-channel, with no where to go, so I get scowled at by the steerer as he had to get close to the bushes to pass.

Anyway, can't moan, other boaters were really helpful and we mostly had a good road to Cropredy. But here I have to mention another gripe; why is it that we, who pay a hefty license fee every year, on top of £2K for a spot in a marina and insurance, RCR etc, only to find that when we get to a lovely village like Cropredy where we wish to spend 24 - 48 hours moored up, all the moorings except for three boatlengths are reserved for 'long term' moorers owned by BW. What is more incessantly irritating, is that they have all the best spots that visitors could use! For one thing, I would like to know how much the blighters pay for these moorings (if anything) and why they are allowed to make an eyesore of the cut with rusted and decrepit boats that rightly should have 'PIKIES 'R' US' stencilled on the shabby upperworks.

Cropredy though is a gorgeous village abounding with history both ancient and recent. But more of that after I have been to the bellringing practice at St Mary the Virgin Church on Monday night.

To Banbury - part 1

We decided on Tuesday night that since the weather was looking good for the following day and we had topped up with water and diesel, it would be a good thing for us to set off early and get ourselves down to Banbury before the bank holiday weekend. So we did, setting off at 0830 hours on Wednesday morning in the bright spring sunshine.

The trip to Braunston was pretty uneventful and has been remarked on before (see blogs passim), although Audrone managed to snap a much better picture of the northern approach to Braunston than we have managed previously. Also we had the big drama with the stern gland. . .

This is an ongoing problem that we seem to encounter quite a lot. What in effect happens is that a horrid whining noise (like a Qantas jet at Heathrow airport), sets up and apart from the grating on the nerves, is very worrying - giving rise to dire thoughts of the engine or gear box seizing up or even the stern gland disintegrating and water flooding into the engine!! So Audrone rang Aunt Agatha (AKA Pip) to see if she could locate John Cook, Brinklow's resident engine genius.

Martin (Pip's partner) was sent racing around the marina looking for John, thinking that we had completely broken down - I think we owe Martin a beer or two! John was eventually found and rang us to see what the problem was. He seems to think that the noise is a harmonic sound set up by the type of prop that we have, and that if the bearings or the stern gland weren't hot to touch there was little
to worry about. In fact the problem seems to be that we need to wind the grease screw more tightly and more frequently than we have been doing. Anyway, we are living with it at present, it has become just a minor irritation.

Have a look at this bridge - it looks more like a bridge that has gone to seed, or worse. . . . or is it the result of shelling that we haven't heard about??

The bridge that's gone too far.

After making the right hand turn into the part of the cut that is called either the Oxford Canal, the Grand Union, or both; we headed past Napton Junction, stopping to let another boat come through the turn. The chap steering said there was another boat about to enter. Well it wasn't, and stupidly we waited for them to nose their way into the main canal. They then showed us how slow people can really be. But as luck would have it they pulled over to moor before we faced a bad road following behind them.

Napton is beautifully situated on a hill (hence the full name of the village). We have moored up here before, and I have climbed to hill over to the other side, it is indeed a very pretty village. The canal of course, winds all around the hill, before you arrive at the Locks. Now that I've seen it from the top of the hill and all compass points from the cut, I must say that all the pictures that you see in the guides and magazines can't really make it as real as it is seen from the steerer's position.

The locks themselves are also remarkably picaresque and not overly difficult (saw good reason to take in the fenders though, only width for the boat in some). We were awfully pleased to have made Marston Doles in the one day, as well as finding a good mooring at the top lock. All ready for the morning then.

. . . . . . .Pictures to follow, have to move boat.