Entry tea leaves

tea leaves

Email this entry | Print this entry Jul 27 2007, 10:19 AM

Why is it things always come in 3's?

whay cant they come in 1's?

let me explain myself. Back in April after easter I had my push bike stolen off the roof of our boat. Ok I was pissed off, I was annoyed. I was also kicking myself for forgetting to lock my bike and I kind of got my head around having something stolen because I should know better.
that was strike one and I wish it stopped there

fast forward a couple of months and I come back to work on a monday morning to see a very ominous hole where my NEW pushbike should be chained up in the so called secure carpark where i work. After digging out the cctv footage of the carpark, the security people confirm my bike was stolen at 7.30 on saturday night as 2 hooded youths shimmied under the security roller door as a car came in. they picked my lock and then rode my bike away. they had hoods up and cant be identified. Wankers.
that was strike two

fast forward again, three weeks this time and we are moored up at tottenham, our car parked quite close by in the car park for stonebridge lock and tottenham marshes. Arriving at the car at 6.30am and see the drivers door not looking as it should and realise someone has smashed the rear quarter window and bent the drivers door from the top with a crow bar in a failed attempt to open it. I think they got in from smashing the small window and for all this damage, which will mean a replacement door all they took was a pair of sunglasses and a £10 note from the glove compartment. schools are out and the little twats are obviously bored.
strike three

why is it 99% of the time, its young males of the species that get up to this kind of shit?
I go back to my day dream time and again.... a totally female world, in fact not female, but an androgenous society, with a slight female tendency for caring for each other and a male tendency for being able to repair things.

Now, Im hoping for more rain, like that the kids will prefer to be tucked up inside playing on their playstations rather than robbing stuff from the streets.

Pinky and Perky

Hands up all of you who like to walk around your own home in the buff. Au Naturel?

Yes, me too. My neighbour discovered this fact yesterday, as I was having my breakfast in the kitchen standing out looking over the water I saw a feint silhouette of my neighbour opposite behind their net curtains ( on a boat? net curtains? I ask you...what are they trying to hide? maybe they walk around naked too?)

I'm not exactly the shy retiring type so I figured if they want to look then they can, after all we are all human and all have roughly the same bits here and there.
Thankfully the gunnel line is just the right height to hide a multitude of pearshaped pinkies.

He (the neighbour who I still dont know the name of) still seemed very cheerful this morning when I said good morning to him.

Entry fabri-cadabra

fabri-cadabra

Email this entry | Print this entry Jul 24 2007, 05:53 PM

I love sewing, I mean I really love it. There's something quite kinky about the sensation of fabric running through my fingers as it becomes joined together and takes a new form and function.

I've had some fabrics in a bag by the side of my bed for a few weeks now, they've been calling to me and begging me to put them to use.
So at the weekend when the sun and rain blessed us in equal measures I got my grandmothers sewing machine out, and set to.

I also had a little visit to Dunelm while we are in the region of a decent sized shop and B&Q.
the plan was to fit blinds to the kitchen and get rid of the old manky bachelor curtains, put a new blind up in the bathroom, make a curtain to divide the kitchen and living room and paint the bathroom door and ceiling and put a new towel rail up.

At B&Q I also bought paint to start the overhaul of the kitchen by painting the doors. that will come later. first its fabric time.

So, the kitchen, two blinds, replacing curtains, JOB DONE, and I feel pleased with the look, once the doors are painted the whole place will look better.


The big curtain separating the rooms, JOB DONE. it should help keep smells from the rest of the boat, stop drafts in winter and it makes the place look more homely.


The bathroom has a new coat of paint on the ceiling ( the previous owner was a smoker and no matter how hard i scrubbed it was never going to be white) the door was also painted while and a shiny new towel rail put up as we have a serious lack of towel hanging space. also put a new roman blind up in the bathroom to replace manky old curtain.

the bedroom curtains were finished a while back, im pleased with them , they brighten the place up. NOTE the step is missing at the bottom of the purple curtain, this is where the water pump lives. its been making strange noises recently so the filter was taken out to be checked... replaced and cue a rapid leak dripping from a joint. oh bugger. the step is still off for easy inspection over the next few days to see if the leak recurs after it was stopped.


a few jobs jobbied then, next i need to attack the kitchen cupboards and also remove some awful roses and castle transfers from inside the main doors. I think they might be replaced with a tropical beach scene. James Bond, Dr. No style.

journey across Londinium

journey across Londinium

Email this entry | Print this entry Jul 24 2007, 05:35 PM

It was nearly two weeks ago we finally made our decision to scrap the idea of going down onto the river Wey, with all the threats of flooding we've had recently on the rivers we thought we would head over in the direction of the River Lee.

Friday night, we moored up at Tesco opposite the entrance to the paddington arm. Loaded up with a chuck and some vegetables for a sunday roast and early-ish on saturday we set off into waters previously un-chartered by the Honey Ryder crew.

Taking hour and half shifts on the tiller we navigated our way through the gradually degenerating scenery, which changed from a little bit urban and countryside to a complete city-scape. City life really isn't good for anyones health so there wasn't much chance of us mooring up too close to the centre for the night. Passing through little venice, camden and other famous areas I couldn't help but feel like we were more akin to pond life following a smelly drainage route to somewhere fresher.

The highlight, if you can call it that was passing through the tunnels in London, in the second one I realised I couldn't see or hear the dog so I scrabbled around on the back deck feeling for something furry, finally found him and picked him up so I at least knew he was safe from being accidentally kicked overboard, he gradually got more and more afraid as the tunnel progressed, we emerged the other side with me holding a dribbly shaking dog and a dog-snot mark on my t-shirt where he tried to bury his head for the duration of the tunnel. On the plus side it's reassuring to know he feels safer with me.
"I imagine he was grateful for my overly padded bra that day giving him just enough cleavage to bury his face in"

the low lights were emerging from camdens 3rd lock having enjoyed the drunken company to be rammed by an oncoming po-faced old miser insistent on getting into the lock before we've actually left it. His dog-bum faced other half was equally as unpleasant in the lock operating as they awaited our decent.
We also got stoned, not on the joyful substances found in camden but rather by a couple of fat kids with nothing better to do than run after a narrowboat and lob chunks of builders hardcore at Mr B. on the roof. Thankfully they missed, they hit the boat and a couple ricocheted around the dogs feet, it really shook us up as we didn't expect that to happen. We have now got a large catapult and a bucket of pebbles laying in wait for the next waste of space kids with nothing better to do. I'd happily pop a stoney cap in the ass of anyone who attacks us again.

We moored up on the saturday night by Victoria park, its just a quick trot away from Brick Lane, so we swung past there for some top scran, indian stylie before finishing off our tripette to the River Lee on Sunday.

Sunday came and we were in for some weed hatch foraging as we pushed, shoved and minced our way through the weed soup on the River Lee.
As we stopped off at a boatyard for diesel I observed that we were indeed surrounded on every side by boats occupied by lesbians.
"it felt a bit like an alternative dimension I dreamed about of all female domination, I expected at any moment my other half would emerge at the back deck dressed in a saucy little feminine number."
Sadly the alternative dimension was restricted to just those few square meters of river. As we tootled off up the river, the national average was resumed and my day dreams were once again just idle thoughts to pass the time at the tiller.

We found a decent spot to moor for a while around Tottenham area.


It's the closest weve ever moored to where I work, yet its the hardest place to get to and from due to the london north south Thames divide. I can cycle it in 1hr 45 minutes or I can motorbike it in 1hr 30 minutes. The train would take an hour but I would need my folding bike to make that feasible. Those thieving little scrote bags who took my folding bike 2 weeks ago continue to make my life difficult. Or maybe they are just trying to persuade me to get on a proper bike to ride to work and back helping me get ride of some flab?

positive? negative?.... where there's one there's always the other.

getting a man in....

getting a man in....

Email this entry | Print this entry Jul 11 2007, 10:33 AM

After 6 months of a leaky Alde boiler, having wooden panels off since January to let the area dry out and only having hot water via the engine, we finally got a man in to do the job for us.

It's the first time we've paid anyone to do a job on the boat, but since it needed servicing and we don't know much about boilers and their burners, we decided getting an ex-spert to do the job might just be better than carbon monoxide poisoning.

another jobby jobbed then.

we can tick that one off the list.

why is it though that the list never gets any shorter?
Ive still got a kitchen to renovate, floors to re-cover, more curtains to make and blinds to put up.

all that can wait though.... first we must change location because Ive got itchy feet, or should that be an itchy tiller hand... anyway, I cant wait till this weekend, rain or no rain we are fookin off to the big smoke and beyond.

pain and pleasure... yin and yang

pain and pleasure... yin and yang

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

Im a firm believer in karma. Im also a believer in Newtons laws.

those of equal and opposite reactions occurring. For me this applies to everything in life. It isn't always apparent at the time but eventually it all pans out equally.

I had several moments of reflection at the weekend.
The moment started in fact on Friday afternoon as I headed to a friends wedding. I don't like weddings, I don't know why, I just don't. Especially when they come slap bang in the middle of press day on a friday afternoon. After two previous days of extra long hours to make sure I could escape for an afternoon I arrived at the registry to be informed that I was to be the official photographer and video'er. Not much pressure then.

So I performed the task in hand, all the while wondering why I was doing this when I would much prefer to be somewhere else... anywhere else in fact as I dislike weddings so much. I guess I like my friend and our friendship too much to get too bitter about it.

So my mental conflict continued when I arrived back home to a non-communicative man who was pissed off because he hadn't seen me all week due to working late and attending the wedding and arriving home late again.
"I can please only one person at a time it seems"
The next day Mr Communication was in fine form as he decided to re-attach the flue vent to the roof after he removed it needlessly last week. It requires sealing.
It also required a little patience and perseverance. Something Mr Communication has very little of.
It is something I have acquired vast amounts of living with the Man.
So as it all started to go wrong the roof of the boat turned into Beirut high street, as screws were quickly discarded from their protective glass bowl which kept the white sealant cleanly contained. A dark blue roof is no place to get complacent with white sealer. So as I hand him the tools to finish a job I should have done myself, (but then again I would never have had to do it if it was down to me because I wouldn't have removed it in the first place) the tempers started to fray and I was left holding the white spirits and feeling downhearted.
"it's at times like these I wish I was single"

So back to complicate things the wedding party was over two days and we were expected to attend the evening shin dig. I dont like shin digs, everyday should be a party, I don't see why we need an excuse to get drunk and dance when Im quite happy to do that every day, minus the getting drunk part.
Unfortunately Mr Communication decided now was his time to make commune with cheap white wine and then complain bitterly about it. especially since it wasn't french wine and it wasn't completely cold.
As a consequence of previous days successful photographing and videoing I was given the task once again.
I contemplated whether I should be honoured that my friend thought fit to bestow such an important task on me, or was I purely invited for just such job to keep wedding costs down?
Whichever it is, I decided to do my best and give him a great video to remember his wedding by.

Mr Communication by now was well and truly communicated and rendered virtually speachless by south african wine, except for his chastisements in my direction for being a "party pooper" as I wanted to leave at 11pm and go home.

Sunday morning arrived early at 6am, I awoke to the familiar pork like noise coming from a few inches away and I laid thinking of all the things a person can think of at such early hours.

* why am I laying in a bed with a man who smells of cigarettes and alcohol?
* I wonder what my grandad would think to formula 1 had he still been alive to see a Brit doing so well...
* I think I'd like to paint the kitchen a nice creamy yellow, no orange, no blue... and replace all the knobs.
* should I ride my motorbike alone, 4000 miles to Faro and back in a couple of weeks?
* is it wrong to think that the mother of the bride was absolutely gorgeous and extraordinarily sexy for a mid 50's lady?
* is it rude to talk about the brides visible panty line?
* will I be punished for having such wicked thoughts?
* I wonder if my grandparents are up there looking over at me urging me to do something but Im not getting the message?
* Would I be happier if I was on my own again?

the thoughts continued until eventually I had to get up and get some non-alcoholic air and weetabix ( with chocolate bits).

A trip to brighton was the order of the day so I dragged the hungover zombie out of bed and insisted he come along with me and the dog.
We finally found something we agreed on. In an art shop in the Lanes in Brighton we found a limited edition photo, signed by the photographer, or marilyn monroe. her smile is infectious and I can think of nothing more cheering to wake up to or drift off to sleep to. Simply beautiful is the only way I can describe her.
Simply unbelievable is the fact we both agreed that we love the same image.
It's times like these I'm glad I'm in a relationship



SO weekend over.
back to work.
Arriving in our secure underground carpark, i park up my motorbike and I glance over at the bicycle park at my folding bike. The bike that has stood into the gaping hole in my life that my stolen fixed bike made. Usually I take my folding bike and cycle back to the boat from the train station on fridays and come back on mondays with it via the train. This weekend was different as I attended the wedding, at special request on my motorbike.
The space where my bike usually sits was empty and the security chain was missing.
The slow, aching realisation was that my bike had been stolen. CCTV footage from the buildings archives confirmed that two hooded youths scuttled under the automatic roller door as a car came in, they cracked the combination code and had away with my prized Strida.



Im quite upset about it really, but at the same time I feel I could be paying my penance.

harbouring naughty thoughts about the bride, the brides mother and the brides best friend is a very, very bad thing.

I am a wicked person.

I also have two more bikes that Im constructing in the pipeline.
I think I shall call my next one the "wicked thought depository"