COWROAST CHRONIC(le)Welcome to the latest (shortish)issue of the Cowroast Chronicle.
Various matters of no importance have occupied my mind (very limited space available) and one matter of major importance and much rejoicing. So significant in fact that I've dedicated a separate blogpost to it which will shortly follow this garbage.
Last time I raised the question of whether or not waving at one another on the canal was waning and promised to conduct an in depth survey.
Here it is.
No of boats observed passing through Cowroast: 28
Of which hire boats were 7
and therefor privately owned were 21
Of the hire boats I waved at the number
that acknowledged my existence was 7
Of the other 21 14
So 100% of hire boaters and two thirds of privates acknowledged including one scruffy boater on a scruffy boat who enquired of his companion "Who's that fat idiot waving at?" This upset me, not because of the sentiment expressed but the fact that he should, of course. have enquired "at whom is that fat idiot waving?" but grammar aint wot it used to be with even the BBC assaulting our ears with split infinitives and other heinous crimes.
Anyway, if you're passing and see me waving please wave back.
No. I'm not waving here or doing an impersonation of Adolf.
I'm giving a talk to a group of walkers about Gas Two locks in Berkhamsted and indicating where the gasholder used to be.
Pam conned me into this and I was surprisingly nervous with my legs shaking like jelly but I got through it and the audience seemed appreciative....or were just being polite Berkhamstedians.
The Gasworks owned by the grandly
named Great Berkhamsted Gas, Light and Coke Co. were originally sited behind
the current Tescos (1849 till 1906), their purpose being to provide street
lighting to the town which it did till the late 50s when Berko got that new
electrickery lighting. Its deliveries of coal were by
canal, via Castle Wharf, the gas company despatching crude tar products to the
London area in return.
In 1906 the gas works moved to the triangle
of land by locks 51 and 52, coal then being delivered via a short access line from the railway
sidings (now Berko station attractive car park). Initially a horse pulling
5 trucks was used, Ruby being the longest serving of the horses. Ruby was eventually
replaced by a small diesel engine. A small tunnel under the railway still
exists as does some of the track.
Officially named
Northchurch Locks No 51 and 52 over the next 50
years these locks became known to boaters as Gas Two
The Gasworks works operated until the
1959 with the gas holders remaining until the 70s when replaced by the current
industrial estate. .
On opposite side of the canal part of
what is the new housing estate was occupied by a Timber yard set up by Job East
and subsequently run by his sons. This large site was involved in all sorts of
building works but most importantly in 1932 they won the contract to
make and supply 202 lock gates on the Grand Union Canal.
The site closed in the 80s and one of the houses, which we think was the Pay Office is now owned by Pam.
Back at Cowroast I haven't made much progress on the repaint job but I have a nice garden.
The gnome, one of many acquired at auction as a job lot years ago (I was bidding on a trolley and they were the sitting tenants) is called Boris. He is meant to be holding a fishing rod but its absence makes him look somewhat onanistic so he's aptly named.
Now his best buddy Trump has let the cat out of the bag as regards selling off chunks of the NHS to the yanks or any of Boris's Old Etonian mates. When will the people of this country stop worrying about nonsense like leaving Europe and get serious about protecting one of the finest remaining parts of British society -the National Health Service? When it's too bloody late. That's when. They did it to the Post Office, the Housing stock, the rail, gas and water industries. And they'll do it to the NHS and we'll still be arguing about sodding Brexit.
I am so sorry about that-starting a sentence with "And" I mean.
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Here's a lovely aerial picture of the lock at Cow Roast-taken by a gent from https://www.facebook.com/astonhousephotography/
We found this moorhen chick struggling in the canal and squeaking for help. Dan, one of our community got it out and we kept a watchful eye on him/her to make sure no predators - including sodding dogs that should be on leads- dealt him/ her the coup de grace. I went to tell the mother but my Moorhennish isn't fluent and she just looked at me blankly and jumped in the water rather than go and tend to her offspring.. Whether the chick survived to swim again we know not but we did our best.
The heron is very democratic. It isn't at all selective or prejudiced. It will crap on anybody's boat without fear or favour. Hector knows no fear, doesn't fly off as you approach and will happily pose for photographs. I am fascinated by him. You might say I was a heron addict......but you probably wouldn't.
As mentioned above the garden is coming along nicely on the mooring and has occupied time that should have been spent doing other more important things like painting. Except of course that June has turned out to be rather damp so whilst I am poised to paint I remain mid-poise, paintless brush in hand. Pointless.
So I turned intending to drop a spray of water, as if from the sky onto my display and instead blew the petals off petunias, geraniums, pansies and any other poor sod who got in the way. It even blew my fat balls into the trees behind-never an enjoyable experience! Fortunately the following day little damage was apparent with the ever resilient flowers bouncing back in bloom- My balls however had gone without trace. Hey ho life can be hard, for moorhen and moron alike.
Time for breakfast so until the Special Bulletin a bientot.
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