Why a phone box? While waiting for a bus at Cow Roast the other day I thought I'd have a look in the phone box. It used to be a proper red job; the sort you could shelter in if needs be albeit with the slight hint of uric acid pervading the nostrils but warm and mostly dry. Then it was replaced with this thing with all the style and character of a plastic beer crate. Then because nobody used it they took the phone out, No vandalism; just nobody needed it with the advent of mobile phones which are now so essential to the survival of life on earth. I peeped in and there was a notice to the effect that if anyone had any objections to its removal they had 42 days to do so or it would be removed. Well either someone did object (though I doubt it) or they are very slow movers because the notice is dated April 2016 . Let's have the red one back and pop a defibulator in it. That's what I say.
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This wouldn't be recognisable as my blog if I didn't have a moan about something.
First off when we set sail on Moorhen a couple of weeks ago we had not been gone long when we were flagged down by a couple of paramedics who were attending to a gent called Dave-I think his name was- who had been taken ill on his boat about half a mile south of Tring station bridge. Rather than wheel their patient along the tow path and up some fairly steep steps it was decided that one of them would move the ambulance to Bulbourne and we would transport Dave and the other paramedic to the disable landing stage- sorry the landing stage for people with disabilities-at Bulbourne. This having been completed successfully and feeling proud of our International Rescue we progressed onward and upward aware that our civic duty had delayed our requirement to reach licenced premises in Leighton Buggered before scurvy set in. So far so good.
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| Ady's Boat-ready to rock |
Friend Carrie texted that we had an honourable mention on the Narrowboat World Forum from a chap called David (not the patient) who commended us on our action (which in all honesty was no problem) and mentioning that the casualty also had a dog.
Here is the link.
https://www.canalworld.net/forums/index.php?/topic/98219-thank-you-whoever-you-are/
What got my goat was that subsequent contributions were, generally more concerned with the bloody mut than with the human being with some even implying that the paramedics should have left "Dave" on the canalside and ministered to Rover. Now I'm not the world's greatest dog lover I admit but what is this about the English that some sodding animal assumes such importance? The paramedics were brilliant and in fact one of them did say he would return that evening and feed the dog which was very kind. We also let a few doggy boaters know of the situation. When we returned the boat was gone but despite asking around could find no news about the patient. The bloody dog of course was fine.
We subsequently met David (the original FaceBook poster) again on his boat travelling North whilst we were lying sunbathing on the foredeck somewhere near Buckby and he kindly thanked us again. Nice bloke.
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Our trip took us north through Milton Keynes, Cosgrove, Stoke Bruerne Weedon, Long Buckby, Braunston and onto the southern Oxford canal turning at the Folly and back again. The crew comprised Adrian, the skipper, Kevin, Peter Ted and me; not all at the same time but joined for one night only by our spiritual guide Roy, who also joined us for our pre- cruise dinner.
Lots of pictures and then another moan.
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| 4 old buggers looking for Ady's bus pass |
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| Ted looking silly and Ady in Ask |
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| Roy and Peter |
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| Moi |
International Rescue
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| Hello Sailor |
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| Ted's lost his roll of carpet |
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| Delayed by hysteric boaters! |
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| Lovely to meet David and Sue and Jim and Due travelling back to Cowroast |
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| It's those two on the end of a rope again |
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| Ted wants to go skipping |
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| a prayer meeting at the Crossroads |
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| sunset at Braunston |
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| One of the wetter days and certainly one of the windiest |
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| Moored in the Nellie pound Braunston |
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| John P arrives. |
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| Where Roy joined us for Roast Lamb from the wonderful Braunston Butchers |
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| seems to be going down ok |
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| job done |
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| Back down the Buckby flight |
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| Lock 13-an appropriate place to drop a windlass in the cut |
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| Napping Norman the Gnome nods nicely |
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| Time to water up at Weedon Bec-the slowest tap on the system |
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| Our paths cross with the crew of Daisy-Ian and Joyce |
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| Stoke Bruerne-always a pleasure to stop |
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| Stoke Bruerne Moon |
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| Yardley Gobion sun |
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| We meet Orson Welles |
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| Can you hear banjos? |
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| Bliss |
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| approaching Church Lock |
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| Autumn is here |
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| Setting the lock outside The Nellie |
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| Roy has a steer |
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| into the lock-Ted waits to close |
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| Ady closes up |
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This is all taking a long time.
Aha says Roy some ***** has left the XXXXXX paddle up |
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| The walk of shame |
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| Back to the Old Wharf at Bugbrooke for Quiz Night. Came 5th |
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| Through Blisworth-Peter on the tiller |
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Just wiggles the tiller
and shouts a lot |
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So what does the
fat bloke do again? |
Another rant-Moorhen is in the livery of an ex hire fleet Willow Wren. Her owner likes it and doesn't want to change it. The one disadvantage of this is that some headuptheirarse boaters assume we are hirers and therefore stupid. I have been disappointed this trip by the number of tossers we have met who were so patronising, bordering on insulting, that they do not know how close they came to feeling the caress of an old boater's windlass. Not all by any means most boaters remain good and considerate sorts willing to help but not pains in the stern gland.
Some examples:-
"You're not trying to turn that here are you?"
From a woman on the Oxford (narrow canal) when I was executing a perfectly competent reverse in a very high wind. To even think I would try and wind 66' of boat in a 20' wide canal! Blood hell. Later she told me they had been on their boat for over three years and knew all the wrinkles. My arse.
"They should be at 45 degrees"
To Ted almost immediately after he had stepped ashore with a rope and spike. He hadn't even set about knocking the spike in.
Really! Well you learn something very day. Pillock.
"If you don't want to go aground you should stay in the middle"
This insufferable bastard was sat on the back of his boat whilst I waited for another boat to finish watering up. I kept Moorhen midstream for nearly half an hour as it transpired the tap was a dribbler. Not long before the boat on the waterpoint finished two boats came the other way and I had to move to the offside to let them through. When I came to set off I'd grounded on a bit of mud and had to get Peter, the only crew member with a pulse, to pole me off (Ooooh Matron!) when I got back in the middle Mr Cleverballs uttered the above gratuitous and useless advice.
"And how were the other two boats meant to get through?" I asked without wanting or eliciting a response from the ponce (a responce?)
Ady on the prow then handed the front rope to a helpful chap on the boat next to the waterpoint and the dulcet tones of Supergit rang out again. "You ought to teach your crew how to throw a rope"
My reply which has been seriously redacted was along the lines of "and your crew ought to tell you to keep your ****ing mouth shut".
I've owned five boats since 1972 and hired plenty more. With this crew, and others sadly no longer with us, I've boated on nearly all the waterways of England and Wales. Generally speaking it's been fun with the occasional cock up, but as far as I recall, I have never given any other boater, least of all a hirer, gratuitous advice unless safety was involved or my help requested. I certainly don't know it all and as time goes by am always grateful for a bit of practical assistance.
Apart from the lucky ones most of us start out as hirers and many owners still hire when needs warrant. So what's happened. Maybe nothing and I'm just getting more sensitive; but whilst I still get the Christmas morning feeling when I step on a boat then my windlass will be kept much closer should the need arise.
Apart from these pains it was a grand trip marred only by a couple of medical problems. Kevin had to return home as he had a reaction to his medication. Our guru and spiritual leader Roy kindly came and collected him. Star.
I managed to whack my leg with a bit of wet rope and needed to find somewhere medical to get it addressed.
I managed to get an appointment at Towcester Medical Centre, a cab ride from Stoke Bruerne, and before walking up the towpath to meet the cab I saw a gang of swans attacking a couple of passers by. As I had no wish to get pecked on the other leg I took a couple of slices of bread to get these winged muggers back in the canal. As it was they'd gone by the time I arrived and I carried on my way. On reaching the Medical Centre the extremely helpful receptionist asked for my National Health Number which I had written on a piece of paper in my pocket. " No problem" said I reaching into pocket and pulling out two very dirty crumbly slices of bread and dropping them on her counter. I tried to explain but it was obvious she thought I really needed psychiatric help rather than a wound dressing. I was treated very speedily and efficiently and was soon on my way with a pocketful of crumbs
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On a recent jaunt to the New Forest to visit old haunts (a hauntjaunt) Pam and I enjoyed some wonderful weather and a grand meal at the Ship Inn overlooking Lymington Harbour. Whilst there I received the following photo from Roy who with sons Scott and Gordon was on a sail training weekend at Gosport. I replied with a picture allegedly of us sailing off the Needles I.O.W.
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This was in fact a picture hanging in the bar of our hotel but I don't think Roy would have guessed.
If you'd like to see the video and you don't mind Rod Stewart the link is below. It's very good |
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| Pam on the harbour wall at Lymington |
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| A tincture at the Ship Inn |
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Meanwhile friends Peter and Kay were in France where they met Rick Stein-sort of.
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| Can you see him? |
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| Ah. There he is |
Whilst we are on the subject of catering-sort of- I am fascinated to see the number of pub and restaurant toilets that have started the strange habit of placing smoked salmon in the latrines. Is it part of the curing process or another silly Bloementhal idea.
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| Bloomin 'eck. She's only had it a day! |
What's the difference between a hippo and a zippo?
One is really heavy, and the other is a little lighter.
Whilst we are on the subject of catering-sort of- I am fascinated to see the number of pub and restaurant toilets that have started the strange habit of placing smoked salmon in the latrines. Is it part of the curing process or another silly Bloementhal idea.
