‘Burning the Clocks’ at Brighton

Like every other date that passes in the calendar, the Winter Solstice leaves no physical evidence in its wake that anything is any different than it was on the day before. The weather remains just as wet and blustery on the twenty second as the twenty first and there is very little light to share throughout the daylight period on either day.

But psychologically, of course everything is different because the mere passing of the day signifies that Spring is on the way with the evenings due to get lighter marginally as each one passes. Time passes so quickly; only a moment ago it seems we were mourning the loss of Summer as the leaves began to fall. But now the bare sticks of Winter bud, indicating a natural productivity that is to come. Nothing ever dies; energy is just transferred.

So it was with a particularly optimistic heart that I journeyed to Brighton by train on that special day. It was a long way but I was warm both physically as well as spiritually as I sped across southern England in the bosom of my overcrowded railway carriage.

Arriving at Brighton I needed to wait for only a few minutes before my son Rupert’s train arrived. Here on the top of the hill, it was blowing a strong gale and we could see that the seas beneath us were blown completely white with spume, while the flying spray reduced visibility at the surface to nothing.

At the station since the rain was beating down with a distinctive taste of salt mixed in it, Rupert and I caught a taxi down the steep hill into the valley then up the other side to the little terraced house of Millie and my granddaughter Delilah-Rose.

 

Rupert, Delilah-Rose and Millie awaiting the procession

 

Later on the weather had eased slightly as we walked down the hill, past the brightly illuminated Pavilion to watch an event that in spite of its leanings towards ancient folklore, was first instituted only as long ago as 1993. Because of the atrocious weather not as many people as usual had turned out to watch the parade of paper and willow artwork carried in procession by very valiant volunteers through the city.

The festival of ‘Burning the Clocks’ is to celebrate the passing of the Solstice and when the army of illuminated paper statues and masques have arrived at the beach they are burnt ceremoniously on a bonfire, while there is a celebration of fireworks, lots of music and dancing. A carnival atmosphere ensues and everybody has great fun.

Last Saturday however, because of the rotten weather conditions, for the sake of safety, the latter part of the programme had to be cancelled, so when the procession arrived at the beach destination, though the massed drummers did their utmost to send out a heady beat most enthusiastically for sometime to accompany the pretty dancing girls, who despite the wearing of ample body stockings beneath their skimpy costumes, must have been very cold and though the dragon on the prom did his best to warm us all up by breathing lots of fire, the event fizzled out in the end rather like a wet squib and everybody quickly went home.

 

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Fire breathing Dragon on Brighton Promenade

 

However my stay there overnight was wonderful and it was lovely to see Millie and Delilah-Rose again as well as Rupert of course. He and I travelled back to London on the same train on Sunday before shooting off home in our different directions; he to Bristol and I to Warwick.

Sociably this last week has been busy for me right through, for last Tuesday I caught another train, this time to Swindon and from there I caught a bus to Cricklade where my other son Alex lives with his wife Catherine and daughter Penny. My granddaughter is nineteen months old so it was particularly lovely for me to see how much she had grown up in every way since I last saw her. She is a beautiful little girl and though every grandparent must use the same cliché; she seems to be so advanced for her age.

She was a delight to see anyway as were her parents who made me feel very welcome while I stayed with them till Thursday.

And tomorrow is Christmas Eve; in the morning I go by bus to my brother’s house for another few days to enjoy good company and celebrate the season enthusiastically.

St Agnes Fountain

Christmas draws closer and then the New Year and once more it appears that the whole world is commercially bewitched by it all. Sales assistants dressed in a variety of odd looking and shabby Santa Claus outfits, with the doubtful help of ancient Noddy Holder pop songs, entice the people inside their garishly lighted and decorated temples in an endeavour to persuade them to spend all, if possible, their hard earned cash. Children too at a very early age are sucked into the maelstrom, which late December brings and many a noisy tantrum occurs that otherwise might have been avoided …. The children’s too!

To some degree thankfully, people who live on a canal boat are shielded from all this hysteria; often they do not live near shopping areas and not owning a car makes it easier to avoid them. The expedition would normally involve a long walk and the need to carry home heavy loads. The boatman is happy, as he is all the year round, so long as he’s not too far from a pub and a little shop that can provide his other basic necessities. He’s had his fill of frantic Christmas’ past and is quite happy that the seasons come around in their usual sequence.

 

Christmas lights at Banbury

 

However I was down at Tesco (currently my nearest ‘little shop’ ugh!) this afternoon and having completed buying my necessities, I was sitting in the café enjoying a pot of tea to enliven me for the walk home when a group of little children from an infant school dressed in their tinselly Santa outfits were herded together opposite the café by their conscientious teacher and began to sing carols.

They sang confidently, with great concentration and most diligently pronounced the words that their teacher mouthed so carefully at them. They did very well and after they had finished I felt the need to join the applause because of their effort alone.

The Christmas songs were not momentous particularly in their religious content but a man, about my own age, sat at the next table felt the need to expound his unsolicited philosophy at me. “It’s terrible the way kids are filled with religious fervour at such a young age.” he said and with that he huffed and puffed and left the shop, waddling out next to his fat lady.

I’m boat sitting again as Janis on Thursday morning caught the train to Newark via Birmingham and Leicester. She remains there till after the New Year visiting her old friends. It means that we can both follow our own plans during the holiday period which is no bad thing.

But on Wednesday evening, prior to the parting we journeyed to Banbury on the train to see at The Mill Theatre ‘Christmas music’ performed by the folk group ‘St Agnes Fountain’.

I had never heard of them before let alone experienced one of their gigs but I was encouraged to go as my good friend Chris Leslie, more recently of Fairport Convention fame, was performing with his multi stringed virtuosity. David Hughes on guitars was the other male member of the group and the men were joined by two ladies Chris While and Julie Matthews, who won the Best Duo at the BBC Folk Awards in 2009. They were all brilliant and the whole show was amazing. It was one of those occasions when I didn’t want it to end.

Janis and I managed to catch the late train to Warwick and arrived back aboard towards midnight. Though the weather was warm and clear here in Warwick, Banbury was clothed in a cold fog which lingered for the whole time we were there.

As I write now I hear the friendly staccato of rain on the roof, not often heard these days. But generally the weather remains so mild. My fire is out and I shall have a surfeit of coal when it is time to leave if the temperature remains so balmy.

Edinburgh

On Friday Janis and I returned from a marvellous few days in Scotland. She had been to Edinburgh before but it was my first visit to this cherished capital of the north.

Altogether we visited two capitals on Monday as the fare to Edinburgh was far cheaper travelling by train via London from Warwick instead of the more logical direct route north.

So we left the ships early and caught the little diesel down to Marylebone in order to catch the fast electric train north from Kings Cross. However it was a long three hour journey to Edinburgh and we were glad to be able to stretch our legs as we strode from the Waverley Station to our Travelodge Hotel up over the hill in Queens Street.

 

Looking up Princes Street towards the Scott Memorial

 

The hotel, in a terrace of grand Eighteenth Century architecture designed by James Craig, who rebuilt at that time the whole of the medieval city, had been quite recently refurbished and was the modern sort of Travelodge that hires a luxury bed and bathroom only, leaving the customer to buy all their meals elsewhere.

 

The Castle from Princes Street

I slept most comfortably enjoying the endless hot water from the shower whenever I felt like it and then Janis and I crunched through toast, marmalade and coffee every morning at the nearby palatial-like Wetherspoons, designed by the same man.

 

Looking towards Waverley Bridge and the Scott Memorial

 

Since we were travelling for most of the day on Monday and then again on Friday to return home, we walked mostly on the other three days visiting the castle on its high crag via the cobbled Royal Mile, calling on the way at St Giles’ Cathedral and numerous little souvenir shops down many narrow dark alleyways. We went to the Museum of Scotland and the Scottish National Gallery as well as the Writer’s Museum situated in what was Lady Stair’s House on the steep side of the hill.

 

Perspective in Monochrome

 

On Wednesday afternoon we were entertained with lots of other families by the Pantomime at The King’s Theatre and were thrilled by the camp-ish fierceness of Captain Hook and a large hologrammed three dimensional head of a hungry roaring crocodile but were enchanted nonetheless by the voices of Wendy and the fairy Tinkerbelle as they sang delightfully, together and as soloists. But though the dame was played excellently by a man, I was disappointed that Peter Pan turned out to be a fellah rather than a long legged girl, as I have always been used to. It is some time since I saw my last pantomime so maybe this tradition has sadly lapsed.

 

The ornate Thistle Chapel at St Giles’ Cathedral

 

The weather was mild and wonderful and even during the storm that effected the east coast, Edinburgh escaped with just a few flurries of sleet flakes. Other wise the temperature varied by about one degree day and night and was close to double figures in the Sun, which we had plenty of. However daylight arrived much later than in Warwick and disappeared much sooner. But that was okay as the Christmas lights everywhere were wonderful.

 

Christmas Lights at the Dome Restaurant

But now we are back at Warwick and it’s so good to be home.

Slow days at Warwick

‘Futurest’ and I are now well settled here at Warwick. She is safely tied alongside her usual mooring and with her pile of coal stacked alongside, she is well set up for the coming winter months, no matter what is flung at her. She is well content.

 

‘Futurest’ ready for the winter

 

We have both enjoyed a wonderful Summer and tackled it very positively and adventurously. Being in the company of two ladies, both similarly natured to ourselves, it has been a very busy season as well, full of excitement and with its fair share of surprises.

Often by the end of October the country is experiencing its first freeze-up so I have long since decided it is wise to be tied up safely near a fresh water supply and all the other services by that time.

Even without the icy conditions cruising in the winter can be difficult since the on-going canal refurbishment programme starts at the beginning of each November and runs through till the end of February. So winter travel on the water needs a great deal of extra careful planning to make certain that you don’t finish up being stranded between two sets of locks that are out of commission for the winter. Here life could be difficult with no water point or a shop for miles, especially if it is snowing hard for most of the time.

So as always, I was happy when the yellow Kate Boats sign hove into view, swinging squeakily in the fresh but mild breeze, on the side of that tall very distinctive building in Warwick, next to Bridge 49. We are safe now with our pile of coal for whatever the freezing Winter has in store for us.

Except that it seems to be ‘out of stock’ at the moment, as each day passes very much as an extension of the Autumn, which itself at the time appeared as a continuation of the Summer. Today the Sun is shining in an almost clear blue sky and though I felt as warm as toast in bed during the night with the ‘Squirrel’ made up, like many similar days, I now feel like letting it burn out as the Saloon is uncomfortably hot.

As a result of all this I should feel on top of the world but over the last few days I’ve been feeling most lethargic like a party balloon that has been taut all Summer but has now been deflated. Though I have awoken each day with great plans, the hours have rapidly dissolved away without me having accomplished anything worthwhile except a lot of listening to the radio and ‘reading me book’; novels mostly. My mood is such that even though I might have enjoyed the read, I felt I had wasted my precious time.

 

Autumn carpet in Warwick

 

But today things are different and I’m actually writing again, even though I had no idea or plan at the beginning of this post what the content would be.

However I must confess that I am currently in the middle of a favourite book of mine that I have re-read many times since I was a lad; ‘Sailing Alone Around the World’ by Captain Joshua Slocum. I have just come across an old hardback copy, which I need to get back to and devour. He’s just repelling savage Fuegan cannibals in the Straits of Magellan with carpet tacks spread across the deck of his ‘Spray’. Exciting stuff so I’ll have to get back to it.

Back at Warwick

Eight months after our departure we are back at our very familiar Winter moorings, though the season, apart from the advent of darker evenings, seems to be far away. The Sun has gone for now however and as I write, the intimate patter of rain on the roof above me soothes my mind and my spirit rather than aggravating it.

It is wonderful to wallow in the luxury of two forty volt electricity again supplied from the shore and the continued anxiety on the move as to the condition of our batteries is extinguished for a while. Though there is always a certain romance attached, it is gratifying to put away the copper kettle, which takes forever to boil and bring into service the electric one that gives a nice hot cuppa in just a short few minutes …. Such wonderful decadence we’re enjoying.

Because the season is still busy with hire boats, Kate Boats requested we delayed our arrival at Warwick till after Saturday. But when we arrived on Sunday afternoon there were still so many dark green boats around and red ones with scumbled edges that there was nowhere obvious for us to tie up. Only one mooring was available which I know they don’t normally use as it blocks the entrance to their paint shed, so we’ve had to park temporarily there, with ‘Roots and Wings’ breasted up on the outside. We are very cosy and therefore very content.

 

The natives are still very friendly!

 

 

 

 

Yesterday Mark on the work boat ‘Calisto’ arrived and delivered to me twenty five bags of coal so I should be well prepared for the coming cold months that probably are on the way. We are well set up till March.

It has been a wonderful seaon’s cruising and very memorable. I’ve experienced many happy and gratifying events and the company has been exquisite and superb.

Just a Quickie

As I’ve said I was going to start my own separate blog somewhere else, you will be wondering what I’m now doing talking to you on these pages.

Well at the site I linked you to I had difficulty understanding how to start …. well I am only a narrowboat you know …. and also I learned that it was only free for a limited period. So I couldn’t use that as the Skipper would wonder what he was being charged for and the cat would be properly out of the bag then. So I’m now trying another site which I think is free and the link to this is;

www.nbfuturest.weebly.com

Must dash though as I’m expecting the Skipper home any time now. See you on the above site.

Sunshine and Storms towards Leamington Spa

When Janis caught us up in Cropredy on Tuesday, after work to ‘Roots and Wings’ had been completed in Banbury, we spent another day at this attractive little village that sits so quietly for most of the year except on the first weekend of August, when it goes wild with visitors at the Fairport Convention Festival.

 

Turnover Bridge at the north end of ‘Fenny Compton Tunnel’

 

We stayed the extra day so that on Wednesday we could have a meal with my friend Ann who lives locally. She recommended 'The Plough’ at the nearby village of Little Bourton and was happy to take us there in her car. The meal was delicious and the company delightful. What more could any man wish for?

 

Autumn berries and colours. A splendid year for berries.

 

On Thursday morning, though the early temperature was much cooler, the Sun shone magnificently in a cloudless sky. So we set off northwards in the direction of Fenny Compton and had a most pleasant passage finally tying up at the very rural mooring on an embankment above the flat Warwickshire plain  and close to the well known radio aerial landmark.

This is a spot that I love very much. Rich farmland used both for the growing of crops and animal grazing spreads out to the horizon beyond a small copse of trees showing bright Autumnal colours enlivened by the Sun and in the distance to the north, about three miles away as the crow flies, the sails of Napton Windmill on its ridge glistened brilliantly in that same glorious sunshine.

 

Napton Windmill

 

In fact on the following day, because of the meandering nature of James Brindley’s canal in these parts, it would be necessary for us to travel six miles in order to cover that short distance to Napton.

We awoke on Friday morning at the radio aerial to a dismal climate. The sky was heavily overcast and a very light drizzle hung about in the atmosphere making everything very wet. But it wasn’t cold in the gentle south easterly  breeze so we decided to make a move. The weather improved as we  zigzagged our way slowly around the tortuous bends and by the time we arrived at Napton in the early afternoon, most of the cloud had disappeared. In between Locks 8 and 9 was where we moored; the usual place, as it gives one a beautiful view of the windmill and the church and village nestling on the side of the hill .….. And of course, the Sun always shines for me at Napton.

We remained there only for the one night and pressed on during Saturday to the moorings at Long Itchington, within sight of the tall chimney marking the position of the old cement works and on the following day cheered with the warmth  of sunny intervals  we set off for Leamington Spa.

 

Looking up the Stockton Flight of locks

 

The wind was light as we left Long Itchington but soon it began to increase in strength and before long we were battling through strong to gale force winds that caused quite a swell on the narrow canal. Getting into the many locks on this stretch took far more concentration than usual and the gale force breeze literally held us back when hitting us from straight ahead. Our engines had to labour far more than usual to make any decent headway.

 

‘Roots and Wings’ navigating out of Radford Bottom Lock

 

Showers were also hitting us frequently towards the end of our passage so we were grateful to pass the familiar landmarks of Leamington Spa and to be able to tie up at the Old Town Moorings in the early afternoon.

On this last passage we encountered many hire boats from Kate Boats, the site of our winter moorings in Warwick and many of them will not be expected back to base till next Saturday. So since it will be a busy day there most likely,  we shall remain here till Friday before completing the last couple of hours of our eventful Summer Voyage.