Boogie Nights

A sweary hyperactive maritime professional, really very keen on laughing a lot, doing their best to avoid all the trappings of societies' expectations by acting on impulse to any adventurous idea that wafts by. Let's go!

bienvenu, hola, ciao!

30 April 2008

farty


I came back from a weekend away, stepped on board to unlock the doors and the action of me tipping the boat a bit to one side allowed one "cheek" to come up a bit and release a whole barrage of bubbles from the nether regions.
It rather amused me, though I am a fan of toilet humour.

the other fun stuff this week is that I accidentally bought a new motorbike. I was just bidding away on ebay, you know how it is, drop in a silly bid occasionally and try your luck at getting something for not a lot.
Well, no-one else bid so I've ended up buying a bike.
Brilliant. Especially as I have been pining away wanting a bike for the last couple of months.





24 April 2008

persuasion pays off

It's been weeks, no months now that I have been persuading the Mr X that buying a yacht would be a great idea.

At first he was a definite no, based on the fact that he had no reason but thought if we haven't enjoyed narrowboating then why would be enjoy sailing? Plus he wanted to go back to France.

Then he started to warm a little to the idea when I said I don't ever want to get to a point in my life where I have regretted NOT doing something.

Then I imparted my thoughts that if we went through life not doing things because we might not like it then we might not do very much at all. This was stacking up well in my favour as he was definitely coming round to the fact he has little choice in the matter.

Several more weeks of persuasion, followed by a visit to the excel boat show really got him excited about the prospect of downsizing and living in a smaller but wider boat that could, I say COULD, not necessarily WOULD, travel the world.

The final nails in the coffin of doubt were hammered in when we found some new friends moored up in Limehouse basin. They live on a yacht, they are French and they are slowly travelling the world. They are our age, they have a lovely boat called Cool Daddy.

Now the Man has gone to France and seen some of his contacts over there in Brest and I think they have all echoed my sentiments of what a bloody great idea it is, especially when he has the opportunity of a woman who can "keep" him if needs be and he can do one of his favourite things... which happens to be sailing.

I had a call yesterday from France asking if I have sold the narrowboat yet...
er no, not yet, I'm busy living on it I tell him. So it looks like I need to get my camera out and capture my home in some good light to start advertising it. The only thing I'm a bit worried about is the bit between not having a narrowboat and finding a yacht good enough to live on.

Caravan? Motorhome? Crash at a friends place? The thought of that is more scary than giving up my job in a year or so's time to bugger off sailing!

22 April 2008

slippery when wet

It's been a quiet past couple of weeks, having friends to visit has been the highlights of my weekends.

This coming weekend Im off to the Beaulieu boat jumble to help my folks shift their last load of old chandlery stock. There's some amazing bargains to be had, it's well worth a visit if you need anything for your fit out or indeed if you don't need anything but quite like the push n shove of a good old free-for-all boat jumble. I just hope the sun shines otherwise it could be a mud bath.

I've been having a serious de-clutter again. if it's not nailed down or currently in use then chances are it will be sold if it hasn't been already.
The plan to down-size to a 10-11m yacht from a 17m narrowboat is seriously testing my ability to pare down from already minimalist belongings. Finding creative and more compact ways of storing all my shite is almost an art-form in itself. However difficult it is getting, perversely I actually enjoy it. The less I have around me the happier I seem to feel. But at this rate I will never manage to reduce my storage unit size. Anything Im not sure about goes in there like a holding pen. If I can live without it for long enough then it goes, no matter how attached I am to it.

A friend asked me this weekend, what do I miss the most about living on a boat compared with living in a house? After a few moments of deep thought my answers were, instant hot running water( ie spontaneous showers), a heater that doesn't give me asthma and the time to do all the other stuff I love so much (such as velodrome coaching and racing, cycling out for a swift 50 miles on a saturday or sunday morning, riding my motorbike around country roads or taking it to track days, roller blading for hours on end) because I have to constantly think about moving the boat, filling the water tank, emptying the toilet, charging the batteries since I dont have a mooring and refuse to pay to keep it in a narrowboat pack'em in style marina. it's a general feeling of being unsettled but stuck in the same 50 mile radius due to work commitments. The chance to hang around an area for three months at a time is actually quite appealing. The chance to be able to leave the boat safe in the knowledge it will probably be where we left it when we get back is also very appealing.
I think it's fair to say that living on a boat in my current situation has been very bad for my health, I have worse asthma due to the coal fire and sheer amount of dust it produces and I've put weight on due to being unable to exersise properly or be able to breath to exersise very much at all. I have eaten terrible food because I'm too tired after long commutes to eat properly.
You could argue if I really wanted to, I could find a way around each of these problems, but the fact is I haven't. Despite the best of intentions.
The easy answer is, go and live in a marina.

It's also starting to get my goat in a gruff each time I see people debating the big "continuous cruiser/moorer" argument.
Im sick of the idle snake-tongued talk of ruling the waterways with an iron clad fist of vigilante-ism. Stop wasting your breath on the same tired subject. Constant cruisers or not, who the fuck cares?

perhaps my dog should be licenced or have some sort of paddling permit? He decided he would take a dip in the river at the weekend.
I just arrived home and was in the living room when I heard a rather ominous Ploof ploof ploof ploof ploof ploof noise. That was the sound a chihuahua makes when doing the doggy paddle in the 5" gap between the boat and the bank. Somehow my unbelievably stupid dog managed to slip down the gap and proceed to snort and panic in the cold water. I dashed out to see his eyes on stalks and immediately stooped to my knees to scoop the little fella out but he was having none of it, as I held the boat away from the bank to avoid him being crushed he saw daylight and made a dash for it. Paddling around the back of the boat he put himself out of arms reach and continued to swerve around the rudder and aimed for the side of the boat away from the bank. By this time I'm getting worried he's been in the water a long time for such a small animal, so I jumped into the dinghy, which caused a ripple that nearly sent him under. All he had on was his collar, which thankfully didn't snap his neck as I pulled him out and plonked him unceremoniously on the back of the boat. Dripping wet from neck to tail but still with a fluffy head as he managed to keep that airside.

15 April 2008

found


the remote control.

its been missing since november 2007, ive looked under the sofa 10 times at least, down the side of the cushions, in the fridge, in the dogs bed, under my bed, in my knicker drawer, in every nook and bloody cranny this boat has to offer.

do you know where i found it?

under the sofa.

14 April 2008

time out with friends



it was the northern posse on cruise patrol this weekend.

a couple of friends toddled on down from the north, to visit me, the dog and the boat this weekend.
after insisting on me giving them a postcode of my location (on the river Lee, near cheshunt in herfordshire was apparently not good enough)
they found themselves 20 miles adrift somewhere inside the M25 near to the olympic development site. Twat-Nav is a splendid device, especially when you put the wrong postcode in. After a few minutes of me explaining that cheshunt really is OUTSIDE the M25, please believe me and look at a map, no not the twat-nav...
they arrived thankfully with sunshine and smiles.

a quick tour of the boat, yes mind your head, this is the kitchen, living room, you might want to shuffle sideways, this is the throne room and there is the bedroom. there ya go, that was quick.

we decided on a little cruise up the lee past Broxbourne, I've done it on my own last year but fuck me those lock gates are heavy buggers to move, I had cast that memory from my mind and filed it in the rose tinted section.

its amazing how two extra pairs of hands make locking a bloody doddle and a piece of piss. we arrived at a lovely spot over looking a sailing lake, very peaceful and it seemed far removed from the wailing non-stop sirens of london. It was simply blissful. I have now added it to my very small list of places I actually like.
I can honestly say it is perhaps one of the best weekends Ive had on this boat so far.

thankyou to my friends for taking time out to visit. it means a lot to me.

one comment sprang to mind, one friend asks, as a day boat goes past and the occupants keep looking at us all the way past and off into the distance, she said, "what are they looking at?", perhaps sounding a little threatened or indignant. I replied, "Oh people do that, it's normal, just wave back and smile". On a boat you are a tourist attraction and therefore fair game to stare at. I said "they probably would ask questions if only we would go slow enough..." questions such as: do you live on that: how much do they cost: where do you moor it: do you have to book in advance: can I come inside and have a look around: can I take my picture with your dog...
It had been a whole week since I was asked a stupid question or stared at, I was starting to become worried.

04 April 2008

welcome to the zoo

I am fed up of being treated like a freak show, I think I shall put a message for all to read upon my roof ( apart from a for sale sign that is)


If you want to have your picture taken on someone's boat, first make friends with the owner.
Don't just climb on while Im having my breakfast and let you mate snap away from the towpath. Cheeky bastard.

If you want to have a look around my boat, my home, then get to know me first and wait to be invited.
Don't peer through the windows and stare intently at my homes interior and all its belongings. If you should see me looking back at you, at least have the decency to walk on and pretend you weren't looking.... Don't keep staring you nosey twat.

When you see a cute chihuahua in a lifejacket on the roof of my house, don't assume he likes having his picture taken (£1 per picture, strokes cost extra). When you ask if you can stroke him and I say he might bike, Don't act all fucking surprised when he tries to rip your nose off because you smell funny. He's just protecting his own furry ass and being small he's got a big attitude.

If you don't like the cut of my Jib, the strong language or short temper, then stop asking me stupid bloody questions all the time and give me some sodding privacy.

thank you and welcome to the stinking canals, have a nice day.

feel the pressure

It's quite a simple, logical water system on Honey Ryder, but logic evaded my helpful, well meaning little hobbit friend as he tried to do a job we have performed several times together like clockwork, but, alas, working alone he forgot when to do what and why and it all went a bit tits-up.

what happens every four months or so is that our accumulator needs a bit of air adding to it to keep the water pump churning away at a nice leisurely Brrrrrrrrrr Brrrrrrrrrrrr, rather than a staccato sounding Brr Brr Brr Brr Brr
its an easy job; switch off the water; switch off the pump; find a bicycle pump; open a tap; attach the pump to the valve on the accumulator and pump two or three times to remove a little bit of water; switch off the tap; resume pumping with the bicycle pump until it goes firm. switch on the water, switch on the pump. Open a tap and see if you have the pressure right by listening to the pump, hopefully purring away like a happy cat.

It is best to avoid this sequence: switch off the water, go and open a tap, switch off the tap, go and switch off the pump, come back and open a tap, pump the accumulator continuously until you get confused why it wont go firm, go and close the tap, come back and resume pumping, get bored of that, switch the pump on, water on and then panic and switch it all off again when the pump makes a very bad B B B B B B B B B B noise. try pumping the accumulator some more, try as many different combinations of the above possible. give up and go out for a meal with partner, look sheepish on arrival home and then wait until midnight just before going to bed to spring the good news to the unsuspecting.

after a few choice cross words, I knelt on my knees with my head pointing into the water pump hole, praying to the boat-maintenance-god that we hadn't actually permanently fucked anything and hoping that my weekend wouldn't be spent visiting chandleries for replacement parts. several minutes more of sitting on the bed looking at the stricken pump, accumulator and dismantled panels with head to one side like a dog that just heard a funny sound, I resolved to go to bed and have a little think about it.

32 hours later the answer came to me, let the bloody air out of the accumulator. Eureka.

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