Spring and Smoked Salmon Benedict with Champagne

February is half over and 2013 marches on swiftly. The rain is beating down outside and its consistent patter on the roof is as comforting, because it is not allowed to get inside where my fire is keeping everything nice and warm, as it is mesmerising. If I was to relax in my easy chair, the gentle staccato rhythm combined with this feeling of security would soon have my  head falling forward on my chest. Such peace is here.

Though it has had its moments, this winter has not proved as severe as it has over recent years. Though  we have experienced a few days of snow and the canal actually froze, it was only very briefly here in Warwick. If one could predict accurately how the weather was going to behave over this season, one could safely use this idle winter time much more productively chugging along. As it is one is merely killing time tied up to a safe mooring until the beginning of March, when the official cruising season begins.

Here at Kate Boats however the bright and perky little Robin continues every day to sing his optimistic song, never daunted by whatever weather there is; he has such courage. while not far below him, bobbing their white heads in the cool breeze, the Snowdrops enthusiastically offer their applause. Everybody is sensing that the spring  is not too far away.

Not that I feel disappointed with these ‘time killing’ days. They give me the opportunity to carry out all the tasks that I never manage to do in the busy cruising days. All the little jobs that have accrued in the summer can be satisfactorily completed, while of course I get the opportunity to visit the family on the bus, with a ‘stop’ just outside the yard, and from the mainline railway station only a ten minute walk away.

Of the family my brother David is the one I visit the most, as he lives so close at Stratford-upon-Avon. On Friday I arranged to see him and travelled across by the local bus. I had been invited to coffee with him and his two friends Edmund and Patricia.

These three, all single, spend a lot of time together and though a few local people who spot them regularly might be tempted to think ‘The Last of the Summer Wine’, I consider them to be a very illustrious little group and am very honoured when they invite me occasionally as an associate member.

On Friday I met them in the Encore pub and with all the flashing wit and discourse, we managed to pass two easy and comfortable hours together. Then with a break for individual shopping and tasks, we met again at twelve thirty at ‘The Henley Street Tearooms’ for lunch.

It was a special occasion; they all are. So we four enjoyed a delicious Smoked Salmon Benedict with a flute of Champagne, complete with half a strawberry straddling the rim. It was magnificent and all went ‘dane loike a treat’, as they say contentedly in my part of the country, while another two hours was warmly passed in such excellent company.

Later I returned to the ship very happy with my day.

Shakespeare and a Fifth Birthday

Last weekend was a long one away from the ship.

On Thursday morning, with frozen snow making the footpaths still very treacherous, I set off by bus to Stratford-upon-Avon and met my brother and two of his good but separate friends Patricia and Edmund for coffee.

It was grand company and as always happens when retired people get together with time on their hands and good conversation to digest, the time flew by. Though all had proclaimed very early on that we had our own separate tasks to perform in the afternoon, surmising at that early stage that we had plenty of time in which to do it, when lunchtime arrived and we were still at the Encore Bistro with by now cold coffee cups in front of us, we found it very difficult even then to say farewell for the moment and go our own separate ways.

However eventually we did, and David and I had lunch together followed by a little shopping afterwards, but very soon the evening was with us and it was time to  set out for the RSC Theatre. It was the first night of their production of ‘The Winters Tale’. 

It was very popular and though there was one or two empty seats in the house, the audience like me was very enthusiastic.

I thought the production directed by Lucy Bailey was brilliant as well as being very artistic in the set and costumes. She managed to turn most successfully what I think is a very odd plot into something very acceptable but full of wit and colour as well as emotion. The production also made splendid full use of all the technical and impressive wizardry that the new theatre has to offer by way of props etc. As always by the end of this play I was so transported by the whole event that I was sorry when it had to end. I could have easily sat through it all again.

Having stayed the night with my brother, I returned to the ship late the following evening while the ice was still around. A very cold icy wind during the day had impeded any speedy thaw.

But the following day, Saturday, was much milder when I set off early for the railway station on my journey to Brighton. It was a long journey too, through the centre of London and to make matters more tedious, south of the city all kinds of engineering works were going on and I finally arrived at my destination at three o’clock.

 

The pier at Brighton

 

A traditional Brighton Cob

 

I had booked my rail ticket online, but on discovering that to travel on Sunday would have meant even more disruptions and as a result I would have missed most of my granddaughter Delilah-Rose’s fifth birthday celebrations, I decided to travel on Saturday and stay at a bed and breakfast for the night.

 

The Brighton Eye with pier in the background

 

Brighton Lanes

 

The bed and brek that I chose was optimistically called The Marine View Hotel and though it was close to the sea front it was not close enough unfortunately to be able to live up to its name. But the single bed was comfortable, I slept well and the following morning ate a hearty breakfast before walking up the hill to meet the family.

The party itself was wonderful and it took me back many years to when my own children were that same age. Lilah’s mother Millie had booked a local church hall for the afternoon and also an excellent children’s entertainer, who managed to keep the twenty five five-year-olds’ attention for an hour if not exactly quiet.

 

Grandson George having fun

 

Candle blowing ceremony

They all enjoyed his blend of story-telling, comedy and magic (with the right amount of audience participation of course), with little eyes wide and mouths open in awe, mostly with sound emanating forth. They loved the man with his gaily coloured props and live rabbit that everybody had a chance to stroke at the end.

 

The present opening ceremony

 

The tea party was a much more serious affair with food to be eaten and parents fussing about making certain that their little precious one in particular had enough to eat. It all went so well with Lilah managing to blow all her five cake candles out almost with one blow, while everybody else traditionally sang ‘Happy Birthday’, mostly with the correct words, though one or two of the older boys were ever so clever in using the rude ones!

Lilah’s daddy, my son Rupert was there, as also was E-J my daughter, who with husband Steve and son George, had travelled down by car from High Wycombe for the day. It was lovely to see them briefly again too.

Eventually everybody went home and, in the end, Delilah-Rose went to bed, leaving Millie and myself to enjoy a bottle of wine between us. She had kindly offered to put me up in her spare bedroom that night.

I slept well beneath her sloping roof where a large roof window enabled me to lull myself off to sleep by gazing at the stars above. It was a lovely night and almost like sleeping outside. However I did have the benefit of a warm radiator in the room as well.

On Monday the travelling by train was much better and I was back aboard ‘Futurest’ by 2 pm.

The ice had finally all disappeared.

It had been a lovely weekend.

Small Boat Excursions

You know; my good friend Bones is an absolute genius, though of course she is far too modest to admit it even remotely.

But the fact is, this is not the first occasion when she has suggested an idea which after very little consideration on my part has been swallowed up wholeheartedly, though not necessarily as a result of what I may have read in her column in Canal Boat Magazine.

In the pre Christmas edition of the mag she just happened to mention a wish list she had, which contained a small dinghy that could be very useful for exploring exciting looking waterways; those little green and weedy creeks with low sun-drenched bridges, overshadowed by unkempt trees that draw, in passing, the envious eye of the adventurous narrowboat skipper but which he knows are far too narrow and shallow for him ever to navigate. He has to be content to pass them by forlornly, wondering what magic garden might have been there.

Being of that sort of enterprising nature myself, very early on in my boating career I considered that some kind of small boat would be the only way of satisfying this urge for further exploration so had considered various small dinghies or perhaps a kayak even as suitable options. But I always came up against the same seemingly insurmountable challenge:

Where would I stow this small boat on board when not in use?

I have noticed that lots of people plonk them on the roof along with other clutter. But I find this idea not very suitable since being a single-hander means that in locks, when I am prancing over the top of the boat, any thing up there other than a clear roof, for me is a serious hazard and could prove fatal. Having a rigid solar panel is quite enough, as well as the various mushroom vents, boathooks, poles, planks and centre lines, all of which are there for the sole purpose of tripping me up.

Some people tow dinghies behind them but in the narrow confines of our canal system these can be a troublesome hindrance when manoeuvring and when proceeding through locks they must be a nightmare. Also they become untidy depositories for junk one wouldn’t otherwise have and accumulated rainwater, discoloured with stagnation; all in all a most unsatisfactory setup.

So I was content to just dream as I drifted by, for example tantalising drains that lead off the River Witham or the numerous disused but extensive Brindley oxbows, where the North Oxford Canal has been straightened during its history, and I never gave the idea another consideration.

That is until Bones’ wish list.

Her suggestion was a foldable dinghy (brilliant!) and she had been foresighted enough to insert a web address for me to look up too; bless her.

 www.seahopperfoldingboats.co.uk

My mind was on the wheel of adventure again.

The site was impressive, especially when I discovered that the smallest size of dinghy made would fit when folded, neatly and almost unobtrusively behind my easy chairs in the Saloon. This is space beneath the gunnel that I don’t use anyway and it would not be missed even if the boat remained there forever. Also there would be no need for clutter on the roof or any unwieldy encumbrance astern of ‘Futurest’.

 

The dinghy being carried

 

I was almost sold on the spot and nearly clicked on ‘my basket’ at the ‘checkout‘ straightaway. However I decided that it would make a nice break to travel down to Wellington in Somerset to see where the boats were manufactured and to see one of the boats already built, in situ.

 

…. being rowed

 

Having phoned Steve the proprietor, he arranged to pick me up at Taunton Railway Station, take me the eight miles to show me his establishment and then deliver me back to the Corner House Hotel in Taunton where I had booked to stay for one night.

 

……. and sailed

 

And that’s all there was to it.

I travelled down on Tuesday morning to Taunton and returned the following day having purchased the ‘Crafty Scamp’ leaving a deposit, the balance of the agreed price to be paid just prior to delivery in a month’s time.

Hopefully we shall enjoy a lot of extra pleasure this summer.

The Awakening

In the glorious sunshine today, as if to welcome in 2013, my customary walk around Warwick and the large St Nicholas Park, which is adjacent to the River Avon, was highlighted by the many people that I encountered on the way.

Like me all of them had bright smiles on their faces and in return to my similar greeting, were full of cheerful and unselfconscious “Happy New Years”, in spite of the late night that many of them must have subjected themselves to earlier.

Sunshine works wonders and after the seemingly endless weeks of gales and continuous rain that we’ve all had to put up with, this day’s opportunity was far too good to miss. The spring-like weather had lured us all out and we were feeling, very obviously, the same cheerful optimism at the beginning of this 2013.

What a difference a little sunshine makes even to Nature herself. After taking refuge during the recent poor weather, my faithful winter companion the Robin was eager to tell us all again that he was around, and with mouth wide open was singing his heart out very bravely and with great gusto; happy to be alive.  At the same time a lively male blackbird flapped around in the undergrowth looking for sustenance with his busy clacking call that sounds like a barber’s scissors, while a confident little Wagtail of the pied variety was happy to strut along the footpath just in front of me, cheekily flicking his long tail in my direction. It was good to see them all again.

Even the flora is celebrating the optimistic beginning of the year. Back at the boatyard, close to the mooring, I noticed the arrival of spring bulbs just beginning to poke through the mulch of dead leaves. After any sort of winter this sight is very encouraging.

 

Snowdrops and wild Primrose

 

A circle of friends

 

It is heartening to know that we have not been forgotten by the Spring. Her awakening is here.

Kurt Elling

Recently I heard on Jazz FM one of the tracks of ‘1619 Broadway’ performed by the above gentleman and it made such an exciting impression on me that I just had to go out and purchase the album, which I did do while visiting my brother at Stratford-upon-Avon on Tuesday.

I have just finished playing the CD through now and am so moved by the slick expertise of the whole album that I have had to sit down straightaway to talk about it.

I am quite blown away by the way Kurt manoeuvres his voice, to swing his melodious way through eleven old favourites with such ease and panache. The jazz arrangements are very modern but the harmonies and rhythms are so sublimely eloquent that it has brought a wetness to my eye and a lump in my throat, which I haven’t experienced for some time. Kurt Elling’s voice is wonderful and  he weaves his way through numerous improvised phrases with such ease and style, while his voice, breath control and range is magnificent. The CD will remain a favourite of mine for a long time and I shall keep my eyes open for other albums.

To quote one of the tracks in the album, written by Sam Cooke;

‘You Send Me’ Mr Elling.

Frosty Fotos

 

 

Wintery webs

 

 

 

Freezing Face  (but my klaxon bracket still shows a happy one)

Granddaughter and Godunov

The days at Warwick pass by swiftly but quietly, as the year hurtles towards its Solstice. The weather remains variable, alternating between periods of wet but mild spells and clear cold snaps, slipping easily from one to the other as if the system was navigating a chequerboard. At the moment there is freezing fog outside and a severe frost is forecast for tonight, making both the ‘Squirrel’ Stove in the Saloon and the ‘Epping’ Range, aft in the Boatman’s Cabin, work hard to keep us comfortably warm inside.

It’s not the sort of evening to encourage one to venture out.

I am glad therefore that it was last weekend that I travelled to Malmesbury instead to see my son Alex and family. He and Catherine have a daughter Penny who is now six months old and I met the little lady for the first time on Saturday.

And she’s lovely too; a very bright happy little girl who looks just like her Mummy. But then I suppose every doting grandfather tends to have exactly the same feelings at this time.

I arrived on Saturday and Alex collected me from the train station at Swindon and then on Monday morning I travelled with him on his way to work and caught the train back to Warwick from Bath. It was a long and tedious journey involving three changes but it was a wonderful weekend which I had been looking forward to for some months.

 

Grandfather and granddaughter with the same silly grin

 

But mostly my time here at Kate Boats has been quiet, and so I’ve had a chance to get a myriad of small jobs completed. I have made the most of the 240 volt hook-up from ashore in as much as I think everything aboard has been washed thoroughly in the machine and of course it’s a pleasure to have the decadent use again of the electric kettle and toaster.

And you know? I’ve even cleaned ship on occasions.

Life is wonderful.

But frequently too I have been travelling to Stratford-upon-Avon, where my brother David lives out his bachelor existence. It’s good always to see him as we get on very well together.

Of course living so close to the Royal Shakespeare Company he visits the theatre regularly and though it is always well booked up and I normally have to make do with his description of the different productions that he has seen, he managed recently to get a ticket for me as well. This was a thorough, though unexpected treat for me.

It wasn’t a Shakespeare play that we went to see but Alexander Pushkin’s ‘Boris Godunov’. I had never seen it before, either as a play or the operatic version by Modest Mussorgsky and as in the past I had struggled to follow other Russian contemporary literature, by Chekov and Tolstoy, I was rather anxious that I might even let myself down by nodding off in the middle somewhere.

However this production adapted by Sir Michael Boyd and directed by Adrian Mitchell was performed beautifully with great spirit and understanding by the understudy members of the cast and it just shows how versatile and professional these RSC players are. I didn’t even feel like dropping off to sleep once and was gripped totally the whole way through by the vibrant production.

Well done the RSC.