hair today, gone tomorrow

hair today, gone tomorrow

Email this entry | Print this entry Feb 26 2007, 06:45 PM

After finishing work late on friday night I rode home in abysmal weather, three close calls with drivers that didn't see me, on the 3rd occasion I had to emergency stop to prevent some guy taking me out from a side junction. An emergency stop in cold wet weather is not the most enjoyable of excersises I can tell you.

I don't ever recall being so afraid while riding a motorbike. So it was with a very weary mind I trundled down the pontoon to the warm boat that awaited me. Upon arrival I saw that Yann was busy sampling a few bottles of his home regions, the Loire Valley, sparkling wine.
He proceeded to tell me about his misadventures of the day, which included losing the dog!

"He's so small, he just disappeared, I took my eyes off him for a moment, i ran around in blind panic, I even offered a local youth money if he could find the dog..."

Seeing Mr B. pop his head up from his bed looking cheeky scampsterish told me that the dog had been found, and all was well. Apparently the wealthy neighbours to the building site Yann works on had found Banjo sniffing around their rose bushes, fed him, called the building site foreman who was on a different site, who then called Yann to say the neighbours were bringing the dog back.

So as the drunken Yann stoked up the fire to finish his tale of harrowing temporary dog loss, he decided it was a bit hot and wanted to cut his hair. I talked him out of it shortly before going to bed.

Saturday arrived, I busied myself cleaning the algi and moss from around some windows and thought Yann was particularly quiet. as I popped my head up to see where he was I saw his mullet floating away in the direction of the Thames, glancing in his direction I was greeted by what can only be described as a visual assault to the senses. I think I shall call him Pedro for the remainder of this blog entry. ( See Napoleon Dynamite for reference)

er yes, so Sunday came and we did a bit of fettling, the sun was shining for the most part and it was bloody lovely to get away from that tiny hemmed in pontoon we currently reside at. The port side of the boat was covered in green algi from being in the shade so much so it was time to give the whole boat a bit of a once over to stop the rot and to stop us slipping on the algi covered gunnels.

removal of the old name


me trying to focus without my glasses, not a pretty sight


Pedro gets down to some scrubbing


turn the boat around


the other side, now without name and waiting for some good weather for some new paint


strapping canoes down, and a safety conscious dog



tucking into our garlic bread supper and lamb and mint pie we were making a list of things that need finishing on the boat before we can safely and comfortably keep the boat river or canal side.
looking at the hull sides I can see we are suffering from electrolysis from where we are so close to the neighbours boat. everyone is wired up to the shore power and our hull is being nibbled away.

- Hull blacking and additional anodes is at the top of the list of priorities.
- Followed by stepping up boat security, which includes the canoes on the roof, putting locks on all lockers etc.
- The engine needs a service,
- find a decent genny to put in the engine room so I can run the washer without running the engine for the travel power.
- fix the leak on the Alde boiler.
there was probably more but ive forgotten it already. If anyone has any pearls of wisdom then please share them with me as I'm not very familiar with this narrowboating lark, metal boats and steering outside with a tiller is a bit of a novelty still.

Entry that's a quiet engine...

that's a quiet engine...

Email this entry | Print this entry Feb 22 2007, 03:39 PM

So, there I was in the morning, a bit tired, not exactly with it and turned on the tap in the bathroom to be greeted with splat splat put put splat... as air was escaping the system, thats odd I thought.
So I went and used the kitchen sink instead and that was running fine. Strangely I thought the neighbour was running their engine, it was very very quiet, ive heard it before and its so quiet Im almost jealous.

After I came home from work that evening Im sitting in the bedroom getting out of my motorbike kit and thought, blimey, the neighbours engine is running again. Still as quiet as ever.
So I happen to mention to Yann that the tap in the bathroom has gone a bit mental and is having air problems but all the other taps are working fine.

And then completely unrelated I say, "maybe we should top the water tank up too, as Ive done a fair bit of washing lately. "

Then the little light bulb came on. it was the one of dawning realisation that our water tank was running on empty and the engine noise was in fact the water pump humming to itself. You hum it, I'll sing it. Shit, shitter shitting shit. What a tit.

SO we dig under the step where the pump is housed, switch it off for a moment and run and fetch the hose.
Yann came trotting back down the roof of the boat with the hose in hand and proceeded to slap the hose hard on the window of the cratch to get my attention. Little did he realise I was already there with my hand out to catch it and my head pressed against said cratch window area. After a moment of swearing and me calling him a twat, ( sorry posh neighbours) the water was running into a very cavernous sounding tank. A few moments later the pump was back on, self primed and running sweet as a nut.

I'm quite surprised to have run out of water, as according to the specs we have 150 gallons capacity ( that's around 600litres) . which should have been more than enough for a couple of washer loads. Apart from the washing machine/dryer we don't use water for anything other than washing the pots and even then we are pretty frugal. It took about 10-15 minutes to fill the tank with a fairly fast hose so Im thinking, maybe those sales specs were a bit wrong and actually the tank is much smaller.

Still the boat is sitting more level again now, I was wondering why things were starting to roll towards the stern.

stick me on a 40 wash and be done with it

stick me on a 40 wash and be done with it

Email this entry | Print this entry Feb 12 2007, 01:01 PM

A turbulent weekend just passed by in a blur, so im going to do a slo-mo action replay to see if I can see exactly where my time went.

Saturday, I woke up to the sound of rain and pulled the duvet over my head to try and get 5 more minutes.

A busy day lay ahead and I already had a grumpy boyfriend to contend with. He's pissed off that he hardly sees me during the week and he thought once he got me out of my shared flat and into the boat we would have more time to do stuff together. WRONG! I have an extra two hours commuting to do on top of a fluctuating work flow, and last week it was on flood alert as the deadline was due. It's a good job I still love my work.

However, when it comes to weekends, I dont expect to sit and do nowt but faff and read books because I've had a busy week at work. Oh, no, deary me no. I expect to keep doing, doing, doing. Im a bit hyperactive ya see. Unlike Yann who feels that the weekend is for doing nothing but drinking and socialising

So back to Saturday, Mr grumpy-pants came with me to Croydon in my borrowed works van to collect the new washing machine, it's a Christmas present from my recently departed grandad so it's a little bit special for me. It's also my last official day at the flat I shared with my best friend and I needed to shift a whole heap of shit.
It's quite emotional moving out of a flat I still like and away from an awesome friend (who is a bit like a combination of sister and husband to me) who I've shared with for at least four years and known eachother since our college days back in '95. As we were sharing a piece of cake, Mr grumpy who was waiting for me outside, finally went off the deepend and stormed off to catch a train. That was the last I would see of him until much... much later.

Meanwhile, I finished loading the van, headed off to the nearest cancer research shop and donated a fairly hefty sack full of goodies. From there it was DIY shop for some gloss paint, stove paint and some firebrick cement.
Finally I headed back to the boat to do some grafting, I love painting, it's very theraputic, so I got down to the job at hand which was to prepare the cupboard space for the washing machine.

this is the before shot of the cupboard, it was like this when we got the boat last year.


This is the cupboard completely bare with its first coat of paint


In-between painting the cupboard I also repaired the broken fire bricks in the stove with cement and then sanded and painted the chimney and stove top. The chimney had suffered from water damage as the previous owners had left a rotting chimney top on that let the rain come running down the chimney sides.



It was around the time I was adding a second coat of paint to the cupboard that Mr Grumpy came home. Drunk and stinking of fags, I think I will rename him Mr Stinky from now on.
He proceded to hurl abuse at me in French and I told him he stunk so he went outside to continue drinking and smoking.
I heard him climb up on the roof at one point and I was praying, praying out-loud in fact in case it made me easier to be heard by any powers that be, for him to fall over-board. I would have laughed so hard, but he seems to have such a low centre of gravity from being so short that he's impossible to topple.
He was in bed by 8pm, snoring like a bastard after I refused his drunken amorous advances.
I finished painting the cupboard and read another chapter in "the idiots guide to being psychic"

I woke up on Sunday morning feeling a little disappointed, my previous nights spoon bending attempt had failed miserably, my attempt to contact my spirit guide had only left me with images of Rolf Harris doing a funny dance and I still had Mr Stinky to conted with, now with added hangover effect.

So, at 8.30am while I was giving that cupboard one final coat of paint, I gave the stinky/grumpy man an ultimatum as he was heading out of the door with fags in hand, he can choose between cigarettes or me. ( I have a serious hate of cigarettes since they are the main reason for my asthma Ive lived with since my parents were smokers)
I fully expected to hear him packing his bags, but instead I found him looking sorry for himself sitting on the floor with the dog on his knee. He knows I'm absolutely serious and he isn't willing to call my bluff.

I haven't got time for this shit, I want to get over to a garden centre, pick up some plants and compost and get back when the paint is dry so we can put the washing machine in.
A nice little drive to Dorking and a boot full of plants later, we arrived back to an almost dry cupboard and brilliant sunshine.
Perfect.

By this time Mr Stinky/Grumpy was turning more human again and was capable of holding a normal conversation.
The washing machine was unloaded from the van, wheeled down to the boat and a flurry of action ensued.



we needed to remove the steps to get it in


and thanks to a friendly good neighbour who helped out with the final lift down inside there we have it


In our haste to get it in, we forgot to remove the transport safety bolts, so its got to come out abit before it can be fired into action washing my dirty knickers.

I turned on the central heating to take the chill off the place and discovered the header tank was empty.
where was the water going to? I can tell you, out of a pipe at the back and into the bilges. see pic. If anyone can recommend a good Alde engineer, then please let me know. Its a slow drip but its going to take a while for this area to dry out I think.



All in all, a fairly pants weekend, so Im going to treat myself today with a walk into Woolworths chocolate and sweet department this dinner time.

them wa' days- shell suits and bad hair

them wa' days- shell suits and bad hair

Email this entry | Print this entry Feb 9 2007, 05:49 PM

When you move home you tend to find lots of photographs you forgot about, and this is one of them.

I was 15, this was my 2nd dinghy, I had a fibreglass rowing dinghy before this from the age of 10-13. I had moved up in the world with this Astral french rib with inflatable keel. Wooden floor boards were a luxury and behind me out of shot was the awesome yamaha 5hp powerhouse that was my pride and joy. it replaced the old seagull 4hp I had before it. it almost, very almost was powerfull enough to get this big old barge to plane. well, it did plane in a fashion but i had to shuffle forward and push the nose down to get her to start skimming.

I pissed off lots of boaters over at Sprotborough lock when we moored on the finger as I could happily wazz up and down until the tank was dry trying to get this thing to plane. come to think of it, I think I started pissing people off from the moment I got on the water aged 4... ever since I got dive bombed for rowing too close to an island seagull colony ive never been the same.

oh, halcyon days.

snow place like home

snow place like home

Email this entry | Print this entry Feb 9 2007, 05:29 PM

as a hardened work skiver I was most over joyed to see a nice layer of snow covering everything when I woke up on Thursday.
I had already told my boss that if it snowed I was staying put, sod spending 3 hours each way on the train when it was possible to get all my work done if I worked till late on wednesday.



So I had a day to spend pottering about on the boat, the first one ever in fact. So far since ive co-owned this boat there hasnt been one day where i could just sit in front of the fire and do sod all. I dragged a bag of wood off the roof ( not before making a few snow balls and chucking them at the dog) and lit the fire. I looked at it for a bit, then got itchy feet, I nipped outside to inspect the scenery and there was a few chimneys whispering some smoke signals but none I could understand, certainly no signals were saying, hey, pop over here for a chat and a hot cross bun...



I saw one of our brushes on the roof covered in snow, thought with all this clean snow i could clean some algae off the gunnels. a few minutes of scrubbing later, and lots of green gloop washing into the water and then I looked at myself and thought, shit the neighbours have turned me, theyve turned me into a freakish boat cleaner. I stopped right there, made a few more snow balls to chuck at the bushes in frustration and headed back inside.

I actually read a book. now anyone who knows me will realise that times are desperate when i start to read a book, especially if its not an engine mechanics manual or similar. no, this time I was into Doris Stokes. she saw dead people apparently. Im still a bit unsure about her, I think im a seeing is believing kind of person and think I need to go and find some a them there spiritualists to prove the point to me. anyone out there a spiritualist who can guide me to a good place?

I got the rope tying book out after that, theres an interesting page on how to tie a noose. Yann had pissed me off that morning with his usual morning bad temper... I know a good cure for that. It involves a decent length of non elastic rope.