Lockdown day 1 - Current reality

I've met a number of boaters over the years who have told me how glad they are that they spend much of their time being separated from their spouse by the length of the boat. Typically, he takes the helm while she sits at the front knitting, reading, drinking G & T or tea, and trying to stop a couple of badly behaved dogs from jumping overboard. Fortunately for us, this is not the case with Grace and me. We stand together at the stern while we cruise, and share the whole experience. So the fact that we are now spending most of our time social-distancing together in the boat is not a problem.

Despite the weather.

Nonetheless, I do feel physically cramped on occasions, and feel the need to get out and go for a walk. So I braved the weather on Friday, and headed out for a good stride on one of the several possible local, circuitous routes. It was cloudy, but not raining, but... the wind! I got to the top of a bit of an incline on my way to the marina gate and stopped. Not voluntarily, mind, but physically brought to a standstill by an oncoming gust. It ceased, of course, as gusts do, so I took a few more hopeful steps. Then I was halted by another. This gave me sufficient incentive to consider the option of abandoning the walk, but the sudden and painful freezing of my hatless head (silly me, forgetting my trusty beanie) persuaded me in a split second. Had I continued, my cranium would have surely turned to ice, and I would have died of hypothermia before got to the gate. I turned around, and was blown back home.

I tried again the next day. It was still a bit blustery, but nothing like as cold, and the deserted canal and countryside under greening trees and a clear blue sky were a delight. Social distancing was implemented to the letter. I met Phil Achernar taking Oscar for a walk, and we stood several metres apart for our brief chat. After that, I met no-one.

Today, the sky's the same, but we have a Friday wind. I have my beanie at the ready, but I'm not likely to face those gusts again.

I am very impressed by the people of Yelvertoft village and the current residents of the marina who go there for shopping. A couple of recent visits to the tiny Co-op there revealed shoppers with sensible amounts of goods in their wire baskets, and shelves that are almost totally full. People were walking past stacks of toilet rolls. True, there was little in the pasta and rice section, but the lovely Irish lady at the till told me that daily deliveries continue, and they rarely find themselves short of a stock item. There's a lesson there to be learned by the rest of the world!

A Sunday morning may well find us either at Dagnall Street Baptist Church (top) in St Albans or Rugby Baptist Church (bottom), but this morning such gatherings were - and will remain for n weeks - out of the question, thanks to the coronavirus pandemic (Covid - the new C-word) so the two of us joined DSBC virtually by means of the internet. It was otherwise a normal morning service of about an hour's duration, but sound only, and a recording made during the week by Simon and Jonni, our minister and his associate. Hymns were provided by YouTube (joining in was encouraged). It was strange, but oddly moving. I look forward - don't we all? - to living a life that feels more normal, though I think the end of Covid will start a new reality - but these simple socially-distanced services will serve the church very well in the meantime.

Tomorrow, we're going on a Paracetamol hunt. This is not stockpiling or panic-buying, but simply us making sure that, should either of us go down with this flu, we have enough for our needs. I wonder how many empty shelves we shall find.

A break!

We needed a break. We were breathing out paint fumes, and Grace had Summer White oozing from her pores. Said the Maiden were performing at the Moira Furnace Folk Festival, and we were tempted to go to that, but there were only two acts we knew, and we didn't fancy forking out 40 quid when there was a risk that we wouldn't enjoy much of the music. However, there was the not-too-distant Lichfield, and we'd been meaning to go there for some time.

We drove Jess to Moira. She had to be there before 10:45, and it's a two-hour journey from St Albans. We arrived with half an hour to spare. The furnace is a nineteenth-century iron-making blast furnace built on the banks of the Ashby-de-la-Zouch Canal. It's now a museum, and we've added it to our "to see" list. We didn't have time yesterday,

From Moira, we drove to Lichfield. It's a lovely ancient city on the Coventry Canal. with beautiful old buildings, crooked and characterful, and newer ones squashed into the gaps.

This was the most tuneful busker I've even seen. It's a fairly small organ attached to a mobility vehicle, and battery operated. The owner was nowhere to be seen, and his hat lay next to the organ to receive donations. It played a large collection of melodies from its own era, and was a delight to listen to.

800 year-old Lichfield Cathedral was stunning.

I am always amazed by cathedrals. The architecture, the construction, the sheer size and the intricate detail carved out by hundreds of men with very limited tools. I spent my whole time smiling broadly, awed by it all.

We had hoped to carry on from there to Ryton Organic Gardens, not far from Yelvertoft, but it was closing at 4:00 pm, and we couldn't have got there in time after our Lichfield visit. Instead, we drove to Yelvertoft and visited Kantara. There were various bits and things we needed to have back at the house, so we bundled those into the car, had a short nap, had dinner at The Wheatsheaf, and drove to Watford Gap services, there to wait for Jess. The Maidens' last performance was due to finish at around 8:00, but they had to hang around for some time after that, selling CDs and chatting with fans old and new from their two 300-strong audiences, so it wasn't until half-past ten that Hannah dropped Jess off before continuing her drive home to Bedford while we set off back to St Albans. We were glad we'd had the nap.

Today, family. Tomorrow, decorating.

Five on a boat to Oxford - part 9

Saturday was my 66th birthday, and a beautiful day it was, too, as we made our way down to Braunston. Mike was at the tiller for much of the day, making the most of his last opportunity to be skipper. Down to Braunston Turn, and turn right...

and up to the locks. Rather alarmingly, the pound above bottom lock was very low, and NB Wagtail, a hire-boat with only a few days' canal experience, was aground at the bank. I hurried up to the next lock. The pound above that is bigger than the one below, and, though its level was noticeably lower than it should be, I reckoned it could afford to donate some water to the depleted one, so I let a lockful and a bit down, and the stranded boat floated within a few minutes. Kantara came up to meet her, and the two boats shared the rest of the locks up the flight. Despite the shallowness of the water all the way up, there were no more problems, and it all went smoothly.

The four men on Wagtail were very much into learning, and had lots of questions all the way up. The four women were very much into Prosecco...

Then came Braunston Tunnel. Wagtail was rather anxious about this - and not without reason - and their fears were realized half-way through. The skipper of an on-coming NB Huffler  chose to switch off his tunnel light as he was passing us. To avoid dazzling us, he said. Unfortunately, however, the man at Magpie's tiller had already been dazzled, and now had no way of knowing where the unlit boat was. They crashed rather noisily.

With Mike taking the tiller again, we carried on to Norton Junction, where he executed a perfect turn. We learned later that 70-foot Wagtail got themselves jammed across between the banks.

We joined a crew of three at the bottom of Watford Locks, with NB Bothar ahead and Wagtail coming in behind not long afterwards. The female crew were now totally blotto, and hadn't even noticed the collision in the tunnel. The 90-minute wait gave us plenty of time to have lunch, then Bothar led us up the locks. The last boat down before we went up was NB Brutus Maximus, with whom we went down into Liverpool last year. Enthusiastic shouts and waves were duly exchanged!

Again, our locking crew of three was able to assist Bothar and Wagtail in a smooth, sociable and fun ascent. The weather was warm, bright and beautiful.

Then Crick Tunnel and Yelvertoft Marina with miles of sunlit canal between. Beautiful.

118 miles and 94 locks, and a great trip!

Christine and Mike treated us to a lovely meal at The Wheatsheaf in Crick, and we played a final evening of cards. They left before 10:00 the next morning, with a long trip to Torquay ahead of them. We had a lot of washing and tidying to do!