Swan Song

Silently she pushed

by Amanda Young


Silently she pushed
the wet, wooden wheelbarrow up the narrow path
in her long brown coat − elbows poking out.

It swooped and flapped, striking hard against her legs.
A gust of wind tore her grey and raffia hair across her narrow mouth.
She spat. Curled in her stinging lips. At the bend

she stopped. A tree-tumbling thud, dropped
the cart of crops. And reached down
with a snap of her aching back − a crumpled sheet of sunburnt paper.

A photo of a wigwam?
She drew her focus in.

Three young boys − 7 or 8 in smocks
standing conker-kneed, between the doorway of their tent.
She folded the paper to a triangle and in half again −

And put it deep into her pocket
amongst a dry stick of lavender and three copper coins.
She took in an ancient breath of smoked-oak,

lifted again the tired barrow. As she walked,
the cabbages smeared with slug-brown mud
bobbed between crackling onions.

An update along the way

Where are we then? Somewhere between here, and here...

Delia Derbyshire the pussy cat continues to look down on us...

At the weekend, I was working out how to use the timer on the camera...

and worked it out as we were cruising along.

Underway with DIY

Of late I have been having fun and games with our lovely tool kit and paint pots. I have finally got round to painting in the bedroom and gave the bow doors a sand down and fresh coat of white. I have been using 'bathroom' paint which is perfect for the changing temperatures and humidity on the boat.

I have been using my favourite investment, the powerdrill, to make holes in the battons and base of the raised garden bed.

I have assembled and then disassembled the base as things ended up a little crooked and I don't have a plane to take of the slight overhanging edge of the base panels. Fortunately, however, after talking to Papa Bear this fine evening, I can borrow his plane when I next visit. Horrah for Papa!

I am very much a novice at woodwork, having not had a lot of practice and I realised the other day, I have to be in the right frame of mind to tackle this project. And like the wise man says; measure and measure again. In addition, I have noticed that if I had a pound for every time a guy made a comment to me whilst I have been doing this DIY outside, I would be living on a gold plated boat!

Stepping into spring!

The spring equinox has arrived and the days are beaming full of bright goodness. Ahhh... we made it through our second winter living aboard pretty much unscathed.

The early mornings over the past few days have been delightful. During breakfast I have watched the waterfoul go about their business including a swan sleeping on what I think is her nest. We have a lovely view from the many windows of lime green willow trees swaying gently and dried reeds that reflect in the mirrored water like architectural monuments.

I am reading the Celestine Prophecy by James Redfield on the free bus to and from work and I am finding it truly inspiring. It was a book lent to me by a lovely lady who I find to be on the same page. It uplifts my mood, brings the goodness out and I find, balances the motions of paid work.

In the hour before the sun went down today, I got out the workbench, tape measure, power drill and pencil and set about measuring up and drilling the holes in the foundation batons and base of the raised garden bed. These pieces are now ready to be screwed together with some hefty brass screws I have. My vision for a garden afloat is coming together.

I've got some time off work this weekend and I am hoping we will go cruising, to get out of Nottingham and feel the breeze in our hair. Where to? Well, I'm wondering about heading out on the river towards Lincoln...

DIY garden

I started on the project of a raised garden bed for the boat today. With the help of Leigh's engineering skills, we worked out a plan...

I have no budget for this and so have been hunting about for things to use. In the utility room, I found a strong plank of wood from Dad which after half an hour of sawing into two, has become the foundation of the piece. We had some old wooden shelves left over from our land-living days which came in useful.

With a little trimming down, these shelves made a perfect base and will be used for the sides too.

Tomorrow, I plan to drill and screw the pieces into place and will have a completed frame by the end of the day. My next considerations are: the liner (tarpaulin or trying to find something like pond liner), the polytunnel (poundland one or trying to find some corrugated plastic) and the soil (I might just have to take a spoon full of soil from each area as we cruise along, failing that payday is at the end of the month!).

Stained Glass

Mum tells me that the stained glass piece to go in the bow is complete! I am so excited and can't wait to see it. I have a vague idea of the design; a windmill on a hill, one of my favourite things, the rest will be a wonderful surprise! Mum has been studying the craft of stained glass for a while now and has branched out to make a variety of gifts for people; crosses, hearts and figures as well as commissioned pieces of a butterfly scene and now the windmill. I hear she is looking into producing a circular piece for her home.

Below is a heart that Mum gave to me as a gift, notice the water effect of the glass, pretty!

Projects for spring

The blossom is out on the damsel trees around us on the Nottingham Canal, a sweet smell permeates the air. The hatch is wide open today and amongst the din of passing cars on Castle Boulevard I can hear a the choral singing of birds.

I spoke to Mum on the phone the other day and already she has purchased her veg seeds, planning her summer grow. I have yet to sort anything out in terms of pots or containers and have been considering making a raised bed on the roof. I am on the prowl for an old pallet and piece of drainpipe to construct my vision.

On a practical note, having pots around the stern isn't ideal. With a working boat, moving around the cut we both feel best with a clear roof and space on the stern to move around. The raised bed I am planning is going to be closer to the bow and so shouldn't cause too much of an issue with the center rope. I would like to grow potatoes again, so somewhere we will have to make space for a pot.

In addition to all this, we have been talking about solar power. Keen to have a panel, we are contemplating making one ourselves; not only a good DIY project, it should keep the cost down and hone our skills.

I will keep you posted on the developments of my garden afloat and our DIY solar panel.

Hancock and Lane

Our beautiful narrowboat, 'Dove of Belgrade' was made 1976 by Hancock and Lane in Daventry, Northamptonshire. Leigh has been reading up on a very good Canal World forum about the history of H&L and discovered that our style of narrowboat with a high canoe-like bow is a model known as 'Norseman'.

In addition, a member on the forum presented a fine piece of history on H&L and here it is, the last advert for the boat builders from Narrowboat Magazine 1984...

What is all the noise about?

Something called Rammel Club...

War of the Coots

In the shimmering sunlight the waterfoul have been scooting up and down the canal, dashing in and out of the hedgerows and generally getting frisky for spring. I witnessed my first War of the Coots yesterday and was taken aback by what I saw. As two charcoal-black Coots spread their rear feathers like Peacocks they circled and charged each other. Head to head, they both rose from the water, resting on their rear plumes and whacked at their opponents chest with their large, feathered feet, causing a great splash. In a few flurried seconds it appeared to be over until another Coot in the area ended up somehow involved and took a dive for it's life to the reedbed, off away from the violence.

It is fascinating to see the aggression in these animals. And when it comes to mating, goodness me, it is possible to witness the killing of their fellow kind. This happened last year when there was an abundance of splashing and banging around on the canal and I saw a Mallard purposefully drown a female. She was bobbing upside down along the Coventry canal the next few days.

Thus, things are not all sweetness and roses in the world of waterfoul. This doesn't distract from the joy's that can be had watching the nature of these creatures, run, fly and swim.

Strange things in the night

During the night onboard, I often hear all sorts of unusual sounds. Talking to another boater we agreed that this just seems to be the way things are living on a boat. Last week I rose from a deep sleep to the rasping and vibrating of what sounded like an aeroplane overhead, but it couldn't have been. The unnerving noise continued for a good 10minutes as I lay with one ear pricked. Usually when a plane passes over you hear it's movement across the sky into a fade out. This couldn't have been a plane, what else it might have been however, I do not know.

Last night I woke to a raging man yelling out and lay awake listening to a repetitive bashing against a metal railing. This can be typical of a weekend night in a town and not such a great way to be woken.

Sometimes there will be a boat (or even a convoy) who are participating in night-time cruising. This can be at anytime of the night. You can hear their approach and sometimes see their headlight illuminating the whole canal. With time I have developed a skill of sensing an oncoming boat as our boat gently pulls towards them with the force of the water dispersing, the ropes groaning and pulling taught. Depending on the engine, whether it is an outboard and how well the insulation is, affects the level of sound. Some modern engines purr. Our Lister chudders and vibrates throughout. I have woken to the 'pop' 'pop' of old Gardener engines passing us by and at other times outboard cruisers revving and speeding past.

On Thursday night last week, after work, I said to Leigh that I'd like to move. I had had enough of the electricity pylons overshadowing us in Beeston and wanted to get a fresh perspective from the windows. We started up the engine, set the headlight and opened all the curtains to illuminate the canal as we cruised. It was very dark with the occasional floodlight from nearby football grounds shining at us. Leigh took her all the way into the thick of Nottingham with his expertise. As we passed moored boats, the owners would peer from the window; wondering who is passing at night, checking that they are going nice and slow and are not going to bash against them.

The mysterious nature of night-time is enchanting. Living partly outdoors, the earthy magic of moonlight, thin air and stillness flows within you and I find that my mood, thoughts and feelings are affected by this inert nature. I can't often stay awake very late and these day's as I sleep I hear the tinkering of beautiful and alluring music being forged and gilded by one half of "Bamboo Stilts".

I am spoilt by hearing the first makings of this exquisite music and eagerly await Leigh Flotel and Tui Orla Wren resolving their workings and delivering their first mutual release as "Bamboo Stilts".