Pig Boat, Dongles and Dialects

Mac and Boots needed this morning

'Ow Do?

It's not my usual greeting I know but an old chap stuck his head out of his hatch today as we passed by and said ''Ow Do' which tickled me for some reason. It made me think about my working days when engineers would call up from their 'Patch' in the Northern wilds and the conversation might start with. 'Now then' or 'Ey Up!'  Nowadays, Carl and I still squabble about Bath or Barth and I remind him often that he's a Soft Southerner while I'm a Carrot Cruncher from the Flat Lands, which is why I can't walk up hills.  I'm rambling as usual, I'll get on with the Jottings before you all drop off.

The whole week can be summed up in three words - Hot, Hot, Hot and maybe a couple of Windy's too. When we left our shady mooring at Wychnor, the evenings had been pleasantly cool with a nice breeze blowing along the water. The ladies required a pashmina once the sun sank below the yard arm, or maybe it was the cooling effect of the ice in our Pink Gin that gave us the shivers. Later in the week, we came through Fradley and moored by Wood End Lock in the shade. As the temperature inside crept up towards 30 degrees again, we went outside and read until darkness fell - we longed for the cooling breeze from the river but what we got instead was an oven-like blast of wind covering us and the boat in a layer of dust and grit.

By Friday, we felt like a pair of limp lettuces and we longed for the storms that were forecast. The skies darkened, the wind howled but not a drop of rain fell and the temperature soared once more. We moved a few miles along the canal to Armitage and I left Carl and Tricky with all the doors and hatches open while I rattled off on the local bus into Lichfield. I camped out in the blissfully cool EE shop for a while, trying to get a new dongle to replace ours, which is trying to burst out of it's casing. I had money, I could see what I wanted but they couldn't sell me one without a contract which I didn't want. In the end, I left the nice young man to attend to the next grumpy pensioner - she was tapping her foot and looked ready to burst out of her casing too! I wandered into the icy-cold Smiths for a browse amongst the paper clips and bought sellotape and elastic bands to hold the dongle together until I can think of another solution. The pavements were steaming by now so I rattled off home listening to my latest download 'Imagine Dragons'. The boat was in the full sun by this time and even with the hopper windows out, there was no relief. When the sun finally set the heat hung on and the thermometer was still reading 28 degrees when we finally shut the doors at bedtime – not much chance of sleeping in that heat!

It was such a relief to feel cool, damp air on Saturday morning. We leapt out of bed and set off early, chugging through Rugeley without stopping and crossing the aqueduct over the Trent to get to the 'Pig Mooring'. This isn't a place to tie up your porker but a small-holding where the farmer has moored an old working boat by his pig pens. He sells diesel and Calor gas from the boat and we always try and fill up there when we pass by. It's a bit breezy across the fields there and mooring alongside the 'pig boat' on a windy day can cause the Captain and I to exchange raised voices. Today, all went well, mainly because I stayed below with my lips firmly zipped and we docked without a cross word. Once the tank was full and my purse relieved of my Old Age Pension, we chugged off towards Colwich Lock, drinking coffee and admiring the view over the Trent. I needed my woollie on as I worked us through the lock and the skies darkened as we motored on past Shugborough Hall, through Hayward Lock and turned sharp left onto the Staffs and Worcester and onward through Tixall Wide. There was just time to moor up before the heavy rain started. It was cosy in the cabin as the rain lashed down outside and we relished the cool and watched 'Groundhog Day' and fell into bed that night and slept deeply, what a relief!

On Sunday morning we walked back to the Farm Shop at Great Hayward and I needed socks on my feet! (No, of course I didn't wear them with my sandals although I did meet a man who had American Tan tights on under his shorts 🙄). On the return journey, ladened down with goodies from their deli counter, we stopped to admire 'Waimarie' moored on the water point by the cobbled bridge. The roof and tiller arm glittered with polished brass and I complimented the owner on his handiwork. The owner, a blunt Yorkshireman, told me he had much more brassware inside the boat and had won lots of prizes for 'Best Turned Out Boat, over the years. He was born on a narrowboat, skippered one of the last working boats and was very proud of his heritage. I could have chatted to him all day but he was next in the queue to water up and went off busily, unrolling his hose and scattering a crowd of gongoozlers that had gathered to watch.

Finally, Carl has usurped my role as 'Chief Jotter' and done his own version of this week's boating news. I feel duty bound to warn you that it contains his usual Pratchettesque nonsense and I'm not allowed to tamper with it! I hope you have a good week, the hot, sunny weather will be back soon so don't put your shorts away yet.

Lots of love
Linda


PS if you're wondering why I haven't mentioned the Kingfishers this year, it's because we haven't seen any and I'm very disappointed (sad face emoji)

PPS my favourite Lincolnshire word is 'Sqwad' – it means mud if you don't speak Yellar Belly

PPS Why is Carl so obsessed with pigeons?