Hedgerow Jottings: Hips and Haws and a Kilted Man

Stop Lock at Hawksbury Junction

Morning All

Welcome to the Hedgerow Jottings on this most splendid of Bank Holidays. Carl and I are tied up under a tree in the blessed shade, a cooling breeze fans us and we had a picnic on the bank, feeding our crusts to a passing swan family, out on the cadge as usual. They float along using a one-legged paddle whilst resting the other leg on their tail as they glide along - I wonder why. The solar panels are catching the full power of the the sun and making lots of lovely free juice for the fridge. There are beers chilling dewily in the almost cold depths and, for once, Carl is happy to let it run as long and as hard as it needs to. I’m tapping away to the refrains of a Kenny Everett radio programme that Carl recorded in the last century and it’s in perfect harmony with the distant hum of a combine harvester and the swish and throb of the passing boats that have escaped from their boring marina moorings to join us on this very rural and extremely pretty Grand Union Canal.

Swan family on the cadge

It’s been a very lazy week for us - we lingered by the bottom of Hillmorton Locks for an extra day, reluctant to part company with our friends on the Naga Queen. The men painted and argued about the advantages of cleaning brushes as opposed to throwing them away – I suspect that discussion will run and run, while Pat and I had looked at old photos and got quite nostalgic. They waved us off on Thursday morning as we set off up the locks at Hillmorton and they turned for home. Tricky has been very grumpy since they left - she sulked in her bed for 2 whole days, pining for their ‘magic water’. We missed them too and decide to go into Rugby on the bus for retail therapy. We moored at the top of the locks and set off to find Carl a new guitar strap. I went along as chief navigator in the hope that there might be a frothy coffee in it for me if I found the music shop for him. Quite by accident(winking eye emoji), I found the delightful ‘Papillons’ for coffee, then we wandered around looking for ‘Sounds’ music shop. I don’t know how anyone managed before Google Maps - I used my phone and found the shop without any difficulty and we were just congratulating ourselves on being 'Savvy Seniors' when we were brought back to earth by a ‘Closed’ sign. So, not that clever after all eh! I do hate to go home empty handed so I took full advantage of having Carl and his muscles with me (he usually stays home to ‘mind the boat’) and purchased a pop up storage pouffe. The inside of the box is meant to store pairs of shoes but the shoe holders are the perfect size for containing my gin collection safely. The bottles can’t slide about and clash together and I can put my hand on the Pink Gin without grovelling about in the cupboard with a torch and then finding I don’t have the Fentimans Aromatic to go with it. I can stocktake easily and see at a glance when I need more tonic although I doubt I’ll run out of gin this side of Armageddon as I seem to have rather a nice selection! I can’t move the stool without a forklift truck mind you, but still, I like my new pouffe.

Cocktail Cabinet

I've been looking out for blackberries all this week - I collected cooking apples on my morning stroll with Tricky earlier in the week but the blackberries around Braunston remain stubbornly green. There is a disused railway line just along the canal from us and it used to be a good hunting ground for damsons as well as blackberries. As soon as the sun goes down and it cools off, I’ll put on suitable armour plating and go and do battle with the thorns. I love this change of seasons, the dusty dockings sending their rusty seeds off into the world, every hedge awash with red hawthorn berries and flame coloured rose-hips, the ‘hips and haws’ of medieval times. Purple elderberries hang in lush clusters, dewy and inviting but outrageously sour if you taste them. The fields turn yellow and brown as the crops are harvested and the farmers comb the stubble with harrows, ready for the plough. The torrential storms we had earlier in the week are a distant memory and I’m burrowing in the wardrobe for the summer things I put away too soon. Was it only last week that I asked Carl if I should get the winter quilt out? There is one sadness that always comes over us at this time of year; we can no longer deny that the long light evenings are slowly waning and the darkness creeps up on us much too early. The stove, only lit during the summer when the rain makes us damp and clammy, will be lit every morning and Carl will swap painting duties for wood chopping and stove maintenance.

Back panel freshly painted

I have to report another sacrifice to the canal gods - this time it was my most favourite solar lamp. It hangs on the tiller arm during the day, soaking up the light and hanging in the narrow passageway between galley and cabin at night, very handy when you get up as often as I do! (I expect at least 50 percent of my audience is nodding, the other 50 are looking smug!) The incident occurred when Carl stepped off at the back to push us off the bank while we were still in gear going backwards. The stern hit the bank, the tiller swung hard over and the lamp was jettisoned off the (slightly sloping) tiller arm into the depths. It didn’t even bob up to say goodbye. We were in the middle of Braunston turn, no chance of fishing with the boat hook to see if we could recover it. Boats were coming at us from all directions, so there it is. Another of our treasured possessions lies at the bottom of the canal and I really liked that lamp (sad face emoji)!

Braunston Turn

The cabin temperature has been in the low thirties today, Tricky and I have tried every variation of inside/outside/under the cratch while Carl decided to paint the gas locker again. I do admire his stamina but it was the hottest job to undertake on such a very hot dayeven though the bows were in the shade. The parade of boats has at last slowed and the only sound now is the combine harvester still growling away in the distance. It’s going to be another scorcher tomorrow, I hope you’re all keeping cool.

I’ll write again next week

Love from

The Chandlers Afloat

Ps As I walked along the towpath, I glanced across the way and saw a kilted Scotsman out for a stroll. He posed for a photo and he went on his way whistling - that started my day with a smile.