Tuesday, 11 March 2014


Sheena castigated me for not updating the blog more often than I do. "It's boring, going there and seeing nothing new", she complained. "Why don't you write about chopping a log, or something?".

So, here I am, family, friends and followers. With an update. Of sorts. My apologies if you were concerned or worried. We've been OK. "Getting on with it", until Sheena can come back and we can enjoy being together again. Nobody is moving anywhere at the moment. The river is still on red boards for it's entire length.

The reason I've not written much, is... Normality was not restored. I was a bit hasty with my last post. The river went down a few inches. AND STOPPED! Then it came back up again. About a foot over the bank. So, banality was restored. The day to day business of trudging about in waders. Which, I am pretty sure, would be as dull to read as it was to photograph. I could talk about how life affirming it was to have done it, I suppose. The sheer 'boatiness' of having to clamber up the sides, after your gangplank has collapsed and you've fallen in (and your dog has landed on top of you). But I don't believe I could do the subject justice.

And, then there are the paedophiles in parliament. vanishing airliners. stupid unneccessary wars. government funded subversions. and general fundementalist religious nuttery in seemingly every corner of the globe. It seemed somewhat crass and egotistical to whine on about small petty things like the smell of fresh boat baked bread or the pretty daffodils encountered on a walk. When some parts of the world are engulfed in *FULL ON CRAZY*.

I realise that some people read boat blogs to escape from the existential awfulness and the ridiculously fast pace of modern life. But, sadly to say, there has been nothing much to write about recently. I enjoy good health. The beech logs have lasted all through winter. And despite spending huge wodges of time without my wife, I'm happy enough. I enjoy the solitude, and the space to sit back with my feet up, reading book after book after book in front of the glowing stove. The pace of life on a narrowboat is infinitely more natural and slower than on land. The flow of the river carries away the little bits of stress and bullshit that do manage to reach you. And for that, I'm extremely grateful.

So, folks. As soon as we can move, we will. It's been a long old winter. Not a cold one. But a right royal pain in the backside, sometimes. And our second year of bad flooding. Looking forward to cruising, whilst Sheena is snoozing. But also, very much, living in the present moment. Hope everybody is happy and in good health out there.

I'll be back, when I have a log to chop.


  1. Collapsing gang plank and a large Labrador to the 'rescue' does it for me...what is not interesting and photogenic about that?
    X Lesley

  2. glad to hear your both fine and well son and your quite right life is ever so much better when you can finally get off the treadmill and live life at your own pace, love to you both dad,ugbtafte cyl lesleyann

  3. Hi Lesley. He bounced off me and then did a runner. Leaving me sat on my arse in a foot of water. Thankfully phone was not in pocket, and nobody caught it on camera.

    Hi Dad. I expect things will get pretty mad again soon. when everybody piles out of their winter berths. But it's peaceful at the moment.

  4. Good to hear from you Ken. The river is back between its banks at Abingdon and there have been a few boat movements but not many. The cricket ground still has water standing on it. I think we'll have a sticky wicket this season!


  5. Hi Alistair. It's dropped here too. Am enjoying the novelty of being able to step down onto the boat. I also saw a couple of people moving today. Had to do a double take... "Yes, they really are moving". Looks like things are starting to calm down. which is good news.