I’ll have to do it by phone

It took two days for two engineers to remove our old  and dying Alde boiler and install the new Webasto system. They left behind one gunged up radiator which they will replace in due course. Now there was a need to make sure our diesel fuel was clean, free from diesel bug bacteria, water, and dirt, any of which would harm the Webasto, so we called in Lee to "polish" (the technical word for "clean") our tankful before we started to use it. The following day, we would cruise.

It was a good thing we got the polishing done. The diesel was found to be really quite dirty, and Lee left the filtering pump running for hours.

The anticipated start of a cruise had to be postponed because of my desperate need to visit an insurance broker in person, someone to sit face to face with me to help me find the right policy at the best price.

After sending me details of my new car insurance policy - it's due to be renewed next month - in which they had me down as paying monthly instead of annually, Direct Line kept me waiting on the phone for over an hour, with a man every thirty seconds spouting such nonsense as "We're sorry to keep you waiting. We're doing all we can to speak with you", and "Thanks for waiting. A member of our team will be with you soon", and several other lies. These were interspersed with the same thirty seconds of awful muzak for the entire time I was waiting. Never was I told how far down the queue I was, so I didn't dare ring off  - what if I were next in line?

So why on earth did I wait? Why didn't I renew my policy online? Well, I did try, but the website's "assistant" - an AI bot - didn't let me get far through the process without telling me that, if I wanted to change the way I paid, I needed to speak with a member of their customer service team. By phone. The greatest irony of all was that, before I was put on hold, the recorded voice told me that it would be much quicker and simpler if I did the job online!

To cut a long story short, I eventually rang off, I complained about it, they said they couldn't change my payment period without me furnishing them with lots of personal information - all of which appears on the renewal notice they sent me. I told them I'd go elsewhere for my insurance. I resisted telling them where I thought they should go.

I then tried Churchill online for a quote. It was a good price. Okay, I'll take it. At which point along came their "assistant" which advised me to phone the Customer Service Team. Would you believe that my wait for the privilege of speaking with said Service Team was punctuated with exactly the same lying "We're sorry you're having to wait..." messages as those I had suffered with Direct Line? This time it was spoken by a recorded woman. The snippets of music were different, but still dreadful. I rang off.

Finally, I went to The Insurance Store in Harpenden, spent about forty-five minutes with a human being, and came out with an insurance policy and a huge smile, wishing I'd gone that route in the first place.  It was a joy. Lesson learned. I will enjoy telling Direct Line that I won’t be renewing my policy with them.

Except that I’ll have to do it by phone. I've just discovered it cost me £12.53 last time.

😖😖😖

Much encouraged!

The last time we travelled on Kantara was back in September 2020. on We set out on the 15th, and did the eleven-mile and 13-lock trip down to Braunston, to have the press fastenings on our cratch cover replaced by AJ Canopies. We made a four-day return trip of it, instead of the perfectly do-able two, anticipating that this might be our last trip for a long while because of Covid restrictions.

Last Saturday, May 14th 2022, we took Kantara out again. The wind had dropped, the sun was out, the birds were celebrating, and so were we,

We didn't have time to go far; our new heating system is to be installed on Wednesday and Thursday of this week. So we headed north and did just the nine miles to Welford Junction. That's about a three hour trip, leisurely enjoying the birdsong, the sun, the countryside, the smell of the May trees and wild chervil, the tranquillity.

We'd missed it all so much.

We moored just a few hundred yards from the junction with the Welford Arm, and spent the night there.

The next morning, we turned around in the Welford Junction and set off back towards the marina. We were chuffed to find that the BBC forecast of rain was wrong. It rained in the afternoon, instead. Not heavily, fortunately, and it did nothing to spoil our fun. However, it did stop us from mooring at a spot favoured by boaters for doing painting jobs below gunnels height. The black paint on one side of the hull is suffering from damage and the consequent rust. It's not a fun job, and one we were happy to postpone for a short while.

We arrived back at the marina much cheered by the trip, short though it was. We had thought beforehand that we would find it new, strange, and we confess to being a little nervous. Unsurprisingly in retrospect, all was fine, and we were much encouraged. Now we're looking at the calendar and preparing for rather longer cruises.

One job we have got done is the cleaning, waxing and polishing of the cabin paintwork. You have to wear sunglasses to look at it now!

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Work, weather, cards

Engine heating problem solved, we're now in a weather system that's blowing a hoolie across the marina pond, creating waves and taking boats sideways against their will down to the service platform, there to stay until the next lull. There was a lull one evening.

Never mind the wind, though. There's still work to be done on board.

The taffrail had been looming over us for weeks; months, maybe. For those who don't know, the taffrail is a rail around the stern, the very back of the boat, acting to prevent people from falling off. It looks as though it could be a good place to sit, but to do so is considered potentially very dangerous. We know of several cases of the skipper being knocked off backwards by branches overhanging the water, or low bridges. There have been fatalities.

Our taffrail is wooden, and sits on a metal frame. Both had been subjected to years of rain and, we discovered, lack of adequate waterproofing. The wooden rail is made out of  several pieces joined together end to end by wooden "biscuits" in opposing slots. These had rotted, and needed to be replaced, after which the renewed rail had to have several coats of paint, as did the metal frame on which it sits. Grace bravely took on this task. It was slow and laborious but, finally, the taffrail was reinstalled yesterday, while the wind was a little less fierce.

(The apparent stain on the surface is, in fact, the shadow of the rope above it)

I may have mentioned before that we've ordered a new cratch cover - the canopy over the well-deck at the front of the boat. The current one is seven years old; not really ancient, but badly attacked by mould and incontinent birds over the past years while we've been away from her.

The current cover the day it was fitted

AJ Canopies have measured up for the new cover, and say it should be fitted in July. We visited them in Braunston yesterday, to decide on the colour. We wanted it to be the same blue as we have at the moment, but found that none of the blues is available because of their popularity during a world-wide shortage of blue dye. The best alternative, and the one we ultimately chose, is actually a dark blue - Midnight Blue Tweed. We assume that it's not as popular as the other blue fabrics, but we're very happy with it.

Today it's persisting down. Our friends aboard Lyndsey Ann had intended starting a short cruise today. Wisely, they've postponed.

For us, card games. We live an exciting life!

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Three Kindle best-sellers and one waiting for the honour!

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