Lockdown day 65 - This green and pleasant land; a celebration of our canal countryside

...nicely splashed with a good helping of blue, dots of this and that from myriad flowers, and gold at the end of the day. Those of us who experience this every day are very privileged indeed.

*******

Lockdown day 62 - and I can't think of a title for this post.

The wind is dead. Long live the wind. Not that another one's with us yet. I slept last night without being shaken in the bed, and without the loud creaking timbers of the ancient galleon that I discovered yesterday was in fact The Pozzy, moored opposite us with her lines too tight, so that she creaks incessantly against her jetty whenever the wind is up.

This was the wind on the water two days ago,

and this is how it was today. Spot the difference.



The sky was awesome.



We had a visit yesterday from this little fellow.



It's a rubbish photo taken through the window, holding the camera with one hand that was also holding back the net curtain while the other one was holding a cup of coffee that had been on its way to my mouth. Not a good combination. Does anyone recognise the bird? The last time we saw one of these - it was actually two, but they were never close enough together for me to get a picture of both - we wondered if they were turnstones. Yes? No?

That's a pretty poor photo, too, but I expect it was taken through the window, holding the camera with one hand that was also holding back the net curtain while the other one was holding a cup of coffee that had been on its way to my mouth. It happens. Can any of you identify it with any degree of conviction?

One of the things brought to us from the house by Steve a while back was my favourite guitar. I hadn't played it for months, and it was like welcoming back an old friend

I celebrated by burning a CD (labelled "Guitar Fun") of  a lot of my favourite guitar-led music, retiring to the bedroom and playing both CD and guitar at high volume; one of the advantages of having no near neighbours! The disadvantage was the very sore left-hand fingers and the unforgiving cramp in the wrist.

*******

Lockdown day 60 - Just observations

I've discovered that Sunday at around 10:00am is the best time to go shopping at the local Co-op.  The parking space in front of the shop was entirely empty, there was no queue, and never more than four people in the shop at any time. I wore a mask for the first time, but it almost felt obsolete.

Grace has made two masks; one like this, but with the addition of a very effective bendy bit (very technical!) over the bridge of the nose,

and one like this, made out of a t-shirt of mine, and providing four thicknesses of fabric over the nose and mouth.

Swan update...

The cygnets are growing very fast.

(The nasturtiums have suddenly shot up, too!)

We'd been hoping that the parents would get round to showing them the weed that grows at the waterline all around Kantara, but it took them a while to register this.

(Oh, good grief, look at that paintwork! It'll be tidied up as soon as we can move.)

Then, lo and behold, they came again, this time to give it a proper try.

It's supposed to be very nutritious, and I'm sure it's a better diet than the bread they get fed with at other boats. It's not detrimental to the boat in any way, and it'll break off in a few weeks of cruising, but I find it very annoying at the moment.

During my coffee routines over the past few days, I've been fortunate to see a kingfisher flying from boat to boat opposite me, perching on a tiller or taff-rail for a few moments before moving on. The photo's not mine (I wish!)

Sorry, whoever, but I really have no idea where I got this photo from!

Shortly after the kingfisher finally disappeared, I watched in amazement as a crow made three attempts to fly low and slow over the water, apparently to pick something up with his talons. He failed, but what was he after? Fish?

There was no way I was going to get a photo of the crow fishing, either,

so this one's from the Scottish Wildlife Trust - but still not fishing.

Then there was the comedy of a mallard trying to land on NB Charlton's solar panels, angled at about 45 degrees. He slithered off backwards, but managed to gain some kind of purchase, which involved a great deal of wing flapping and foot scrabbling, but failed finally. As he slipped back down the glassy slope again, he tried hooking his beak over the top of the panel, and this worked for a few seconds, inasmuch as he stopped sliding off. But getting to the peak of his summit meant having to let go of his anchorage, and this meant... he simply fell right off in a most ungainly fashion. I can't swear that the noise made at that moment by other ducks actually was laughter, but it certainly sounded like it.

(If you're a boater who's been disturbed by a laughing duck at silly o'clock in the morning, it's a sound you hate!)

*******

Lockdown day 59 - Revisit this day, May 18th 2014

How we'd love to be doing this simple, well-travelled journey down the Grand Union today!

We were on our way down to Stoke Bruerne, where we were to meet our friend Michelle and take her onward with us for a week's holiday.

But the matter of when we might be able to cruise again is still very uncertain. We're happy, though, very thankful to be here. There are many people far worse off than us at the moment.

*******

Lockdown day 56 - The lady's not for shafting!

shaft: (informal) To treat (someone) harshly or unfairly. (Oxford English Dictionary)

After witnessing the brutish mating of a pair of swans the other day/week/month (isn't time very strange at the moment?) I laughed a lot yesterday at the sight of a female moorhen giving a would-be mate the runaround. She clearly wasn't keen on her suitor, and left him in no doubt about her refusal. He would start with the normal approach - swim up from behind and attempt to mount her - but she, swimming away from him, simply waited until he was very close, then dived beneath the surface. The male would stop and look baffled until she resurfaced some distance away. Being a bird of little brain, he would think, "Ahaa! Got her!" and make chase again. Of course, she would simply repeat her trick, but this time, instead of popping up again in front of him, she'd appear to his left, his right, behind him; never the same place twice in succession. 

Eventually, he lost heart and slunk off to find a more compliant hen, and she, laughing loudly (and a moorhen has a fiendish laugh), flew away in search of more refined company. She's not one to be messed with!

(photo from www.birdspot.co.uk - I was laughing too much to take my own)

Yelvertoft Moorers received an email from management yesterday explaining how the new lockdown regulations apply here on the marina.

1) Visiting will be by APPOINTMENT ONLY.
2) Visits are only allowed between 9am & 4pm.
3) No overnight stays on the boat, and you must vacate the marina by 4pm.
4) No cruising. (canals are closed at the moment)
5) The 2-metre rule on pontoons and Marina grounds remain in effect. Outside activity is limited, no barbecues etc.
6) Please respect other moorers wishes. (several have the 12 week isolation letter, and may avoid you like the plague)
7) If you are showing any symptoms of Covid 19, please stay away.

It's all very sensible and straightforward. There's not much of change apart from the addition of numbers 1 to 3, welcomed by several who took advantage straight away of the chance to check that their boat is okay. Two of those were Jan and Ed from EJ on the other side of our jetty, and they were very happy.

I was chuffed to receive from the editor of Towpath Talk a copy of Les Heath's review of Out of the sunrise as it appears in the latest edition.

You can have a look for yourselves - and read a sample - here. I'm told it's a good read!

*******

Lockdown day 52 - Hares and regulations

Apparently, we have a family of hares living on the marina. I've only seen one, an adult, probably the male. They live under the office building which is built on a platform on sloping ground, so there's lots of space for them. I don't think I've seen more than ten all my life, so it was a pleasant surprise for me when I saw this one. Unusually, I didn't have my camera with me.

(photos from unsplash.com)

The new lockdown regulations as they apply to us as boaters are pretty much no different from previous ones in our opinion. The Canal & River Trust have recently sent this out...

From today, Weds 13 May 2020
Private boaters may undertake short boating trips – avoiding use of locks and any staff-operated structures if possible – providing, as per current government guidance, they do not stay away from home overnight and return to their home mooring (where they have one).
From Saturday, 23 May:
Mooring exemptions will come to an end and our guidance for continuous cruisers comes back in to force. This doesn’t mean that every boat without a home mooring needs to move on this day, just that we expect it to move off its current mooring within 14 days (i.e. by 6 June). Boaters in a high-risk group who need to continue to shield or self-isolate can agree special arrangements with their licence support officer if they haven’t already done so.
From Monday, 1 June:
On this date, we anticipate that our navigations will re-open in full, subject to some local exceptions, making longer journeys possible.

Life goes on as new normal for us. We'd love to be cruising, of course we would, but everyone's safety from infection is important, so we'll be happy to stay here for as long as it takes. We could do a short trip out and back for a day, but I reckon this stretch of the Grand Union - the summit of the Leicester Arm, just 20 miles long - will be packed silly by those who have less patience than us.

There is much ongoing bickering amongst boaters on social media; those who think CRT's interpretation of the government regulations is wrong, and who bloody well ARE going to start cruising now, and those who see the sense in waiting until the infection and daily mortality rates fall. Personally, I don't think we'll hit the 1st June target. So be it.

Now here's a strange thing. I took a photo the other day, through the saloon window; the beginning of a fabulous sunset. In fact, I took two - click, move a bit, click. Then I downloaded them onto my laptop, and this is what I found.

Remarkable, isn't it? A work of art, except it wasn't intentional. It was some odd glitch in the camera, I suppose. The second photo was how I expected them both to be; an okay photo of... well you can see for yourself.

I've posted the arty one in a number of Facebook groups, and the response has been overwhelming. Perhaps I could sell it, and it would adorn the living-room walls of art-lovers everywhere!

*******