Entry psycho-analysing handbags

psycho-analysing handbags

Email this entry | Print this entry Oct 26 2007, 10:48 AM

Since we moved our boat closer to a convenient train station I have been partaking in the English past-time of getting to work at random times ( mostly late) via public transport.

It's quite an entertaining, infuriating, humanising, de-humanising, educational experience.

first of all, there's quite a variety of people, but most, if not 99.9% don't talk, not to each other that is.

this is commuting in the south. this is cramming as many people in to one small space as is possible and then seeing how much those people crammed in together can avoid any form of direct human interaction or verbal contact. they all communicate with other worldy beings via the magic of their portable communications devices. they sit there texting and emailing or doing their very best to ignore or avoid any form of communicative contact with the humans just a few inches away. That is until you realise that in fact we are all sending off messages all the time to everyone around us, you just have to tune in.

In my bid to blend in with the sheep, Ive taken to shoe and bag spotting, along with keeping my nose firmly attached to a book or a free newspaper. I think these two items a person adorns themselves with can tell you quite a lot. One of the main rules of this non-talking sport is never make eye contact and the second rule is, if you do find yourself in a squeeze and forced into physical contact with a fellow traveller, you must pretend they don't exist.

women with bags, small bags sometimes, but mostly BIG bags full of I have no idea what. men usually carry rucksacks, practical and organised. or designer man-bags for those who like to tote and tell the largely self consuming, self obsessed, eye-contact avoiding train populous, 'hey look at me Im loaded, stylish and not afraid to mince in public, perhaps Im good in bed, perhaps I know how to show a lady (or man) a good time, perhaps if you like the style of my bag and I like the style of yours we could hit it off, fall madly in bag-love and go shopping at weekends together, maybe we can eat out at a local sushi bar...'
The men and women around me wear their bags like they are their personalities. It seems the more they spend, or the more they are perceived to have spent on their large leather/plastic/fabric appendage then the more 'personality' they have or appear to possibly have. Those with more introverted personalities have the more sensible bags and those who watch Big Brother on the television walk around with a bag bearing the logo "princess" or some other type of proclamation of being royalty or somehow special, yes, you little miss princess all in pink with glittery spangles, you really are 'special'

in this rather isolated world of non-direct verbal communication, the humans have found an entirely different way to converse.

is it any wonder that one of the recent shoe crazes was to wear a brand of footware, itself, called Converse?

faffing and splashing about

faffing and splashing about

Email this entry | Print this entry Oct 22 2007, 10:11 AM

I'm not alone in the world when I say I love to faff.

I know there's quite a few people out there who love faffing as much as I do and this weekend I exercised my right to faff.

Firstly we moved the boat from Harlow town to Cheshunt. that took us about 5 hours which included a stop off for diesel and water.
it wasnt a bad trip really, the locks gates are ridiculously hard in places but we were extremely lucky with 8 out of 9 or so locks in our favour.
The highlight of the trip was the dog falling in for the first time. We were just leaving Carthagena lock, the man was at the tiller and i was just looking out over the front of the boat as I saw Mr B shake himself, unfortunately he forgot he had his front feet precariously perched on the hand rail. As he shook his head his feet lost grip and he performed a near perfect back-flip into the water from the roof.
At this point he was 50 feet in front of us, the boat was immediately knocked out of gear as I quickly moved to the edge of the boat to scoop him out. However the dog, not being one of the brightest buttons in the box, he decided to swim away. I tried calling him to make him change direction as Yann just managed to catch his collar with the tip of his finger and pull him out of the water before the boat cruised out of reach. The dog looked absolutely pathetic with his blotting paper fur, he's definitely not a water dog. I laughed myself hoarse afterwards as I dried him down with a towel. I think he was quite a lucky dog really, if we had missed him first time around Im not sure he would have survived much longer in the water.

Now we are positioned in a nice sunny (read exposed) spot near Cheshunt.

Roll on the faffing.
the choices this weekend, actually just for sunday as we spent most of saturday moving, where shall we go? to the seaside? or shall we stay in and faff all day?
we opted to stay in and spend some time on the boat.

I managed to clear a bin-liner worth of rubbish out of the cupboards in the bedroom, I didn't think it was possible to get rid of even more stuff but somehow I have and feel a whole lot better for it. Well, I would do if I hadn't disturbed so much dust and given myself such a bad attack of asthma!

me and the Man had a really good talk at the weekend about what we both want from living on a boat and we came to the conclusion that we might sell the boat next year and try something different. Ideally I would like to live on a catamaran somewhere around the south coast, but he's not convinced about living on a sailing boat with me, and he is planning on buying a camper van at the moment.
its virtually impossible for us to agree on anything except we both like being on or around water.

an "end of week" life crisis

an "end of week" life crisis

Email this entry | Print this entry Oct 19 2007, 01:53 PM

It's been a strange old week this week. So Im going to curl up on the therapists couch, otherwise known as a blog and talk about what's on my mind

to set the scene, I've been on very "flexible hours" working as I do in Croydon and currently residing in Harlow, tied up to some trees and having the boarding plank set to maximum reach.

working late at the office and working from home this week has given me time for reflection. Sitting in the boat slaving over a hot laptop in front of a glowing fire, I glanced out of the window to see some steam rising off the water and hearing the hum of a local boats generator.
for a moment I thought, this must be what everyone imagines living on a canal boat is like and is perhaps quite a few people's ideal way of living. But for some reason, I don't know why, it's not hitting my "happy" spot.

I'm not new to boating, I've been on and around boats for boating holidays and some of them quite extended since I was 5, they have all varied between canals, rivers, estuaries and coastal hopping. I've always loved it, ever since I discovered the joys of hiding inside a cupboard on an old wooden broads cruiser to cruising around the coast and arriving at a strangely familiar port or harbour. Mooring up in a nice marina where you have space to breath, nice clean walkways and security can make a difference. I am not talking about a narrowboat style inland waterways marina, Im talking about coastal marinas and anchorages. All of this I love, a canal certainly can't compete with the smell of being near to the sea or out on wider stretches of water.

The thing I am new to, is Narrowboats. and therein lies my problem.
I think I am coming to a realisation that I don't actually like narrowboats. They dont feel like boats at all.
I feel most of the time that I am not on the water but in some sort of long thin caravan with bad suspension. I really don't feel at one with my man made surroundings. Looking out to see a watery drainage ditch that is the canal or narrow river is quite depressing and makes me feel claustrophobic and hemmed in. Cruising is a chore and not particularly enjoyable, operating locks and moving at 3 or 4 mph is incredibly boring. Knowing that this is pretty much the limit of the boat is quite frustrating.
If I had the kind of boat that could leave Limehouse and turn left and not stop until I reached France or Holland would make me a happy person indeed. I'm not saying thats what I would do, but to have the capability is what Im talking about.

this morning for example, I chose to be a few minutes later to work so that I could take the woolwich ferry. really its just a few minutes ride across the river but the chance to see and smell the docks area and the wilder side of the thames river makes me feel all toasty inside. I dont need a log fire for that.

Im not sure what the answer is, after speaking to the Man we really seem to want VERY different things from living on a boat. He prefers yachts too, but doesnt want to stay near a harbour.
I on the other hand am feeling really unsettled by moving around so much recently. my home doesn't feel like my home so much as a place where I live and don't particularly care about.
Perhaps a chance to sit still for a couple of weeks instead of constantly moving might help my troubled mind. A chance to sit and be creative might be just the tonic I need.

in the mean time Im going to continue to dream about being here again.

Reduced: 93% of original size [ 1024 x 768 ] - Click to view full image

Reduced: 93% of original size [ 1024 x 820 ] - Click to view full image

Whats under yours?

Whats under yours?

Email this entry | Print this entry Oct 17 2007, 10:06 PM

I don't know if everyone does this, but I get really bored of having my furniture in the same place for weeks on end.
I feel the urge to move stuff around.

unfortunately on a boat there's not many places to move stuff to.

I had a good half a day at home today to do some work and while I was there during daylight hours, I also had the chance to relax for once on my sofa. but I couldnt.

Our living room area is a bit awkwardly laid out, the stove is big and takes up too much space to one side and then theres some cupboards that take up loads of space, leaving just a fairly limited area for seating. In which we have a small sofa measuring 1m x 1.2m

I dug under the sofa to clear out all the rammel that has been collected there by the Man. He thinks if he hides it under the sofa I will never know about it. He has a hoarding problem and it's a battle every day to stop him bringing more "stuff" home for "just in case"

Under the sofa I discovered:
one foam camping mat, unrolled
8 pieces of varying thicknesses of ply, 4mm - 12mm,
a small sample piece of wooden flooring
7 lengths of chrome pole, the kind you use for towel rails or in wardrobes etc
a drivers map of the UK
an argos catalogue
a machete
a large tuk-lok bin liner
a pencil, 6cm long and chewed

After I moved the sofa from facing length-ways to face sideways for a change, I decided to move some other stuff.

this involved moving a surfboard from our "hallway" area. under this I found several lengths of wood, some oak mouldings, some planed lengths, 2-3 meters long.
there was some steel box section metal hollow bar, a builders ground marking stake, and a very long length of inch diameter chrome bar, part of which is damaged and unusable.

so then I had to move some stuff to the bedroom, and we have quite a good space under our crossways bed where it should fold up ( but it rarely ever is)
under here I have a full sailing rig for my dinghy, a freebord ( like a cross between a skateboard and snowboard), a large stirrup pump, several pairs of shoes and a nice bit of of oak faced panelling for using in our window surrounds to replace some knackered old mouldy stuff.

Im quite pleased with the new look tidy living room, however the new look kitchen is full of shite from under the sofa.

if anyone wants some chrome bar, Ive got surplus, various lengths and diameters. free to a good home!

Entry gerrorf my land

gerrorf my land

Email this entry | Print this entry Oct 15 2007, 02:16 PM

Britain is rapidly becoming, with the help of capitalist ideas and greedy, money grabbing folks (who "work hard" for a living)
a very sad place to try and live quietly.

Im pretty tired of our consumerist lust for shopping and buying and owning and making things private.

First of all, who's GREAT idea was it to privatise the trains? that's rubbish for a start.
anyway, that aside, my main gripe over the past few days has been busy bodies who have gone out of their way to make me feel most unwelcome or have made me feel like the scum of the universe.

I was parking my motorbike last week on a footpath that lead down to the towpath. I chained it up to a lamp post, parking the bike neatly at the edge so it bothered nobody who used the path. So far so good. except one morning I came out to face my hour or two of commute to work and a woman came striding from the nearest posh flat with "double aspect views of the river"
"Can I ask you what are doing parking here?"
(me)"I live here"
(her)"where?"
(me)"over there"
(her)"where's that?"
(me)"in a narrow boat"
(her)eyes narrow slightly... "oh, well can I remind you that this is private property..."
(me)"but where I'm standing and where my bike is parked is public land"
(her)"yes but your chain is around that lamp post and thats on private land" (by 4 inches, ie just at the edge of the path)
I replied, slightly dubfounded by such pomposity, "well, I will be gone tomorrow, I move around you know, I rarely stay in one place for very long"
she finished off by saying, "well as long as you aren't staying long then I suppose it will be ok."

needless to say we moved again this weekend, and trundled down to the river stort, it was getting seriously dark on Saturday and with me being slightly myopic with limited night vision we opted to stay put at the top of a lock until the next day.
So looking around I see what looks like a nice out of the way spot behind a boat on the bankside. it was either that or moor on the bend on the lock moorings. Opting for the more friendly option of leaving the lock moorings available we headed over to the bank.
Suddenly a head popped out from a boat moored in what looked like a fenced off area nearby.
"You can't moor there, it's private"
I reply, "what do you mean private? it looks like the safest place to moor in the dark"
"No you cant moor there it's private, it's a turning point anyway. "

I'd already looked at the bank, there was no signs to say turning or private. plus it was so out of the way it wouldn't effect anyone who decided to turn at that late hour of the day.

as we hovered around in the middle of the river wondering where to go, another head popped out of another narrowboat, "you can't moor there, it's private"
"I know that, she just told us," I replied pointing in the direction of the other boat. "so where can we moor then?"

we were pointed in the direction of the lock moorings and told its alright to moor over there.
which we did.. with half the boat poking into the middle of the river such was the bend.

What a bunch of unfriendly beings. they seem to have their heads stuck so far up their own arses that they don't know the meaning of neighborliness, friendliness, or humanity. They are so busy protecting their "territory" that they have become a right old bunch of misers.

I have a good mind to take my dinghy down there (we've moved up the river now) and offer them some home baked cookies...
Kill them with kindness, I think it's the best response to such a bunch of shrivelled up old shrews.

Entry Be-Ware, vicious locks, may bite

Be-Ware, vicious locks, may bite

Email this entry | Print this entry Oct 8 2007, 08:25 AM

Another weekend of solo cruising was looking certain as my "slightly less grumpy than usual" other half had to fly to France quick for a funeral. We had planned to finish the Hertford arm of the river Lee this weekend but as fate dictates, all the best plans will go to pot.
So, I said I would move the boat up a couple of miles to the village/town of Ware. No probs just a couple of locks to get through and moor up.

then I got a call from a friend saying how long it is since we last met up for a good chin wag and something to eat. Ah ha... "how about", I says to my friend, "you come over and we go for a little cruise, you can give me a hand with the locks. it should be a doddle." thats me thinking that all the locks so far on the river Lee have been very subdued and easy to operate (not accounting for the ridiculously heavy gates)

Great, says he and for the first time ever in everdome... he arrived exactly on time as he said. I should have known the day was not going to be easy... when my friend Dave arrives on time, it's like an omen of strange things to come!

anyway, first lock had a swing bridge over the chamber. Dave's never done a lock before so was a little unsure of which bit to do first. He soon got the hang of opening the bridge, closing the lock gate and paddles. then came the first lesson of the day...

not all locks on the river Lee are big fluffy puppies... some are devils in locks clothing.
The water flow comes through the gate paddle, they are totally exposed above the cill and the jet force is pretty powerful to say the least. Id banked on it being easy and was just going to hold onto a temporary centreline that was actually a short piece of mooring rope and not particularly man enough for proper "hard core" locking.

In the end I had both front and rear lines tied onto to the bollards, shortly followed by a centreline once it would reach.
the flow force pulled the boat forward so strongly that it was beyond my capabilities to hold as I would normally. I could hear the ropes creaking and this was all with just one paddle half open.

I was grateful for the local advice from a nice chap at the lock side who told us the best way to use the lock to avoid problems.
they say the lock will be part of the stoppage program this winter to have it tamed. Im not sure if a man with a whip and a chair will tame this lion though.

Through the lock we trundled up to Ware and attempted to moor up. The ground was so hard I broke my hammer! ok, I broke the handle. Ive had to go out and buy a new one. Now Ive got a longer handled slightly heavier hammer to sort the pins out. I feel a bit tool-time-tim wielding the hammer, all manly and Grrr... except Im a girl and when ever I swing it, everyone in my local vicinity ducks for cover in fear of if I accidentally let go of it mid swing...

Come on, as if. I've only ever done that when I was 10 pin bowling on the swing back

I think if it hadn't been for the help from Tall Dave I would probably have given up and not bothered with the second lock. Thanks Dave.

flying fish

flying fish

Email this entry | Print this entry Oct 2 2007, 06:30 PM

there's a new addition to the boat, well, only when we aren't cruising that is.

Mr "less grumpy than before he went on holiday" brought me back a fish wind sock and another colourful traily type fish themed wind thingy.

I love them, they make the place more cheerful and also makes our boat easier to spot in the long line of clones that we find ourselves in at the moment.
Note in the picture how the fish is stylishly being held aloft with an old drainage rod, currently expertly held in place with some pieces of old wire wrapped around the back stanchions.



Currently moored up near St Margarets on the River Lee, its quite nice up there but its a bloody long way to work. almost 2 hours on the train. an hour and a half by motorbike. Oh how I dream of having my own car again. it's not any faster but at least it would be dry and warm and I wouldnt have to put up with the rank smell of people on the train. In particular one man this morning smelt so bad of tobacco breath I nearly gagged. Dude, if you're reading this... get some breath mints ( or kick that filthy habit)

I think we plan to move this weekend, visit the end of the navigation then head south and try to aim for the river Stort.

in the mean time im currently being generally rather happy because we have a new, less battery hungry fridge that is keeping my soya milk lovely and fresh for my cereals that I love so much and seem to eat excessive amounts of at the moment.