Carl's Thoughts on Ducks and Newts

Tatenhill Mooring

Dear All

The perfect place to find proper puddles is on a canal tow path. The best time to experience them is four in the morning. You will need one torch, one small dog that is desperate for a pee, one half-asleep dog owner, and a pair of old slippers. Method: switch on torch. Put on old slippers. Let dog out. Stumble out yourself armed with shovel (just in case) and follow dog half a mile down the tow path. After an eternity of aimlessly milling about step into a large muddy puddle. Lift out foot and retrieve slipper. 

Toadstools or Mushrooms?

All this talk of puddles reminds me that it's been raining cats and dogs for the last few weeks. Of course, dear reader, it hasn't really been raining. It's actually England crying, and frankly I don't blame her. As the river has been in flood recently we weren't sure whether we could travel from Alrewas to Wychnor. As luck would have it the level had dropped from red to amber yesterday and the locks were open to river traffic. The current was swift, however, and swept us down to Wychnor lock in double quick time. It's been a bit of a windy old week as well, truth be told. I put the blame firmly at the door of the new dog food.

Signpost on the Trent and Mersey - almost home

We have observed a variety of waterfowl this year, including the flightless steamer duck, the wandering whistle-duck, the freckled duck, the masked duck, a flock of bean geese and some common pygmy geese. We've also seen eighty seven moorhens and three ordinary hens. Actually, to be honest with you, dear reader, I'm not a duck expert, so they might just have been ordinary village pond ducks.

Lesser spotted Window Newt!

Now, I can't talk about ducks without mentioning newts. They're amphibians, you know. They don't accept this classification though, and at job interviews always describe themselves as team players who work well under pressure. Sadly, employers are reluctant to employ them, due to the demands for time off for hibernation. Only this morning, a newt climbed one of our windows looking for a job. Before we could take his particulars a boss man came over and wanted "Tiny" back. I said to him that's a funny name, isn't it? "Not really", he replied. "It's my newt". Think about it; minute (as in very small), my newt. The old ones are the best. Or perhaps not.

An Unexpected Plate Mountain

Something else we saw yesterday, which was unexpected to say the least, was a mountain of broken white plates and bowls. Probably donated by Jugglers-Are-Us. They must be destined for recycling into something else; supermarkets, probably, to make up the shortfall in out-of-town shopping centres.

Street Sign in Atherstone - Holyhead 180 miles away!

Earlier this week we passed under a canal bridge. Nothing unusual about this, it is the traditional way of dealing with them. I mention this particular overpass because it instantly transported me back to 1997, and brought back memories of "Education, Education, Education!". Remember that disappointing non-event? I'll get to the point. The graffiti defacing this centuries old structure read "keep carm smoke jonits'. Give me strength. While I'm ranting, I'll mention that other lie they told us. "Tough on crime, tough on the causes of crime". What a joke that was. They didn't say anything about only being tough on the victims of crime. Why oh why can't a government just punish criminals properly, instead of endlessly hand-wringing, making excuses, removing deterrents and being mortally afraid of anything approaching appropriate sentencing?

Are you warm enough Tricky?

I'm afraid I'm going to have to whinge a bit more. While cruising along this week, I have mostly been wondering about local authorities, and local road resurfacing, or "dressing", as we call it. They favour the "throw lots of loose gravel around in the hope that some might stick to the recently spread tar" technique. The worrying thing about this is that it confirms there are deranged cretins in positions of authority. What sane person would approve of a way of resurfacing a road that makes it worse and more dangerous than it was before? Linked to this is the placing of strategic road signs on the highway, warning of newly resurfaced roads. The secondary purpose of these omens is to indicate a speed limit which almost makes walking quicker, albeit more dangerous. The main reason of course is that the signs act as a disclaimer to protect them, the council, from possible litigation.

Autumn on the River at Wychnor (2018)

There is a load of rubbish advertised on television and radio these days. Shampoo that contains, amongst other things, caffeine. Great, if you want your hair to be wide awake and alert. Cars that can do two hundred and four miles to the gallon; except they can't, because in the tiny, tiny grey print at the bottom of the screen is the admission that "real world figures may differ...". More annoying still are the inane adverts with people shouting and whooping all over the place and the ones with horrible, horrible rap type music blaring out. Why do advertisers think this will make us buy their products? Bring back the PG tips advert: "Dad, do you know the piano is on my foot?". "You hum it son, and I'll play it", or words to that effect. And the Cadburys Smash advert: "They peel them with their metal knives ha ha ha". The commercials were so entertaining back then. At least they were to a grumpy old git like me. I sometimes think we living through some sort of reverse progress strategy.

Tatenhill Mooring

Hardly any of this week's splurge has been about boating I'm afraid, dear reader. Briefly, then, we have been cruising along the Coventry canal from Nuneaton to Fradley junction, observing lakes where fields used to be, hunkering down during heavy rain and occasionally doing battle with strong winds (from the Atlantic, not from Tricky). At Fradley we rejoined the Trent and Mersey canal and travelled down through Alrewas to today's mooring, just above Tatenhill lock. And that is the end, almost, of this year's wandering. The last leg is to travel to Willington, turn, and then moor at our home moorings for the winter. So Adios Amigos.

Love from

The Floating Chandlers

P.S. On Wednesday we had a phone call from a neighbour. Apparently, someone has dumped a ton of soil on our front garden. We have no idea who could have done this. The plot thickens. Come on, think about it!

And it's goodbye from Tricky too

Where Did all Those Boats Come From?

Misty Morning

Morning Jotters

Everyone got their heating on? We've had some very chilly mornings this week, including a proper frost on the morning we set off down the three locks at Hillmorton. The previous afternoon had been sunny and warm, in fact it was so nice that we wandered off down the lane, enjoying the sunshine, as we looked for wood to replenish the stick box. A huge swathe of countryside between Rugby and the M1 is being infilled with houses, and this quiet road, and the hedgerow beside it, will soon be surrounded by a huge estate. It's a very old hedge, thick with hawthorn, elder, brambles and ivy and, even this late in the season, alive with insects and butterflies. I hope it survives but I very much fear it will be ripped up as soon as the nesting season is over.

Late Butterflies

The locks at Hillmorton were covered in warning tape down one side of the paired locks, meaning 3 of the 6 locks were closed. I didn't expect it to be much of a problem, the boating season is nearly over and normally, the amount of boats moving about reduces to a trickle. I opened the top lock gates for a 'Ginger' hire boat and waved them off towards Braunston as Carl came chugging along and popped straight into the waiting lock. I let out the water and opened the gates thinking that we'd soon be down the locks and chugging along in the sun. Unfortunately, that's when things ground to a halt! There was a boat and butty coming up the next lock and we had to wait for them to empty and fill the lock twice in order to bring both boats up then hook up the butty and chug up to the next lock to repeat the process. By the time they got through, there was a queue of boats waiting behind them and some not very happy boaters looking glum. Luckily for us, they were keen to get us out of their way, and so we had lots of help getting down the next two locks. We chugged off towards Rugby, still meeting boat after boat and we wondered where they had all come from. I found out via Facebook that it was taking boats 2 hours to get through the locks that day and I was glad we were going the other way except that we met a boat at every bridge, squeezed through the jam packed moorings at Rugby and met two boats in the very narrowest part, had to do an emergency landing to get Tricky off for some urgent business and then the bright day disappeared under a blanket of grey clouds and a biting wind so we moored up in a lonely spot and lit the fire and felt better.

Frosty Morning

I think we have been very lucky with the weather this week, we mostly move in the mornings and have seen some beautiful, crisp autumnal days. Any rain has mostly fallen overnight or in the evening when we are moored up and we've been tucked up nice and cosy with the stove lit. Since we turned the corner at Hawksbury, we've seen very few boats moving and have moored in solitary splendour, with just the hum of the M6 in the distance to remind us that civilisation is only 3 fields away.

Brunch

I'm happy to report that we had an uneventful journey through Braunston tunnel on Monday – we didn't meet a single boat. Hurray! As we left the tunnel and approached the top lock down to Braunston, the lock gates were open for us to join up with another boat which was just setting off - another Hurray! The couple we were sharing with were old hands and the morning sped by as we descended the six locks in record time. We stopped for water by the Gongoozlers Rest and feeling peckish, we ordered bacon and sausage cobs and ate them as we chugged through the village and slipped into our favourite mooring by the sheep field. We stayed an extra night there so we could make one last trip into Daventry for supplies and to request a new phone line and broadband package for our winter quarters. I cancelled everything when we left home in the spring - it seemed like a good idea at the time but I forgot that our phone number would be lost. Doh! If you have the old one ending in 683 or 796, can you delete it and I'll send out the new one when I get it.

Braunston Locks

The weather forecast for today was for heavy rain and we woke early to the sound of rain tapping on the roof. Being lazy boaters, we turned over and went back to sleep and I was resigned to having a housekeeping day and watching the 'Gavin and Stacy' box set which has just surfaced from the DVD cupboard. It makes a change from 'Dinner Ladies' and 'Early Doors' - anyone got any recommendations for something a bit more modern? What's your favourite Box Set on a rainy day? When we finally surfaced, the rain had cleared off and the sun was shining. Well, I wasn't expecting that! We set off quickly, before the weather changed its mind and I walked along the tow path still Face-timing with my daughter 'Nanny Claire' and blowing kisses at our Oakley (Great Grandson and just starting to walk - Smiley Face Emoji) Isn't technology marvellous!! We moored in Nuneaton and walked to Sainsbugs to get Tricky her favourite dog food. We ran out of her tinned stuff weeks ago and have been trying all sorts of different brands in an effort to find her a suitable replacement. Every day it's the same, Carl puts some delicious looking chunks of chicken in gravy/jelly/sauce into her dish, mixes in a few biscuits and Tricky strolls up, sniffs it, stares at it and then looks at Carl with disdain. It stays in her dish until she is ravenous enough to eat it, then she spits out the bits that offend her the most and then makes the most disgusting smells all evening to punish us. Today, I came home carrying Sainsburys entire stock of her favourite Chicken Pate- only 5 tins but if we eke it out it might last until we get to Burton Upon Trent. She wolfed it down, licked the bowl and is now snoring contentedly in her bed. Thank goodness for that, I can't bear it when she sits looking at me, with those soulful eyes, begging to be fed.

That's a Big One Carl!

The weather stayed fine today so, while I was tapping away, writing to you, Carl disappeared into the engine 'ole, to service our Beta Marine. It's a horrid job which involves balancing awkwardly over the engine and performing more contortions than a game of Twister to get the old oil out. Once that's done, then he refills it with the expensive liquid gold that is, apparently, a must for keeping our engine in tip top condition. I tore myself away from the keyboard and made him a cup of tea and, as a treat, I broke into the emergency chocolate hobnobs to cheer him up - that seemed to do the trick.

Late Visitor

This week we'll be chugging down the Coventry Canal towards Fradley and slowly, slowly our boating year is winding down. We hope to be back afloat again next year and, if you really think I should, then I might continue writing the Jottings (Winking face emoji)

Lots of Love
The Floating Chandlers

Braunston Bridge

Ps I expect Carl will want to round off our boating year with one of his rantings next week – he has been saving some of his best jokes for you!

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Braunston Marina

Late Butterfly

Baldrick's Moustache