The rest...

Yes – I know.. but this time I have the excuse of very little reception – and also struggling to overcome the floods. So things have been a little busy, and the last thing on my mind was writing a blog! When I left – we were having a beautiful evening by the reservoirs – and the following morning I got up and moved the boat to Alvechurch Marina. It was a lovely morning – and I think it is about the best time of day to boat – at least when the sun is out…

The show at Alvechurch was a great success. I had been a little bit worried, because with a venue that we haven’t done for years, there is always a risk that the audience turnout won’t be that great – it takes a while for things to register with people, and it often takes a couple of years to build up an audience. But I needn’t have bothered, because the landlord had obviously been doing his stuff – the audience was so good that we ran out of chairs! Once we had emptied the boat of all our sitting implements, we just had to get people to improvise. And the evening was great fun. The guys from the mooring that we had stayed on the night before even turned up, which was a nice surprise. Unfortunately, the landlord is moving on next year – so we will have to try and persuade whoever takes over that we are a good idea, if we are to carry on going there. Which I hope we will…

The only problem was that we discovered a lot of water in the front bilges. It is always slightly damp – but ever since Tardebigge, there has been more than I would have expected. And 3 of our lights decided to blow. Which is really unheard of.

And then we went on to Worcester. And avoided getting stuck in the lock that seems to catch us most years – I wonder if we have finally managed to remove enough bits of brickwork to let us get through properly…

The Commandery has been closed for the last few years – so it was a new venue to me. Because the weather had been threatening, they had arranged that we would perform in the Great Hall, which was a proper Tudor hall, complete with minstrel’s gallery. It wa a stunning venue. Unfortunately, it had suffered from the loss of awareness caused by a prolonged absence, and despite a few die hard Mikronites arriving an hour and a half before the show in order to get good seats, the turnout was not very encouraging. The show went well, though, and I think that those that were there appreciated it, and the setting. Let’s hope that next year we can get a few more people in…

And there was more water in the bows. In fact, there was so much that I needed to have a look at it while it was still light – and it was just as well I did, because, once all the set had been removed, I found a quite considerable leak. Which is never a good thing to find. So out it was with the greasy rags, and a make shift arrangement of stage weights and sticks to try and keep some pressure applied. It seemed to stem the flow a little, at least.

The next morning, we were due to set off to Tewkesbury. But, of course, the show had had to be cancelled due to the venue having been swept away. Which is about as conclusive a reason as you can get. The next show had had to be cancelled too, and I had also been told at the lock office that the Severn would not be open for at least a week, as there was so much debris floating about that they were sending boats down to clear it before anyone was allowed on. So the others all went off to have an extra four days holiday, while I hung around to pump the bows out morning and night. I didn’t fancy leaving Tyseley by the Commandery, as it is rather exposed, so I claimed safe haven from BW Marinas, and was allowed to moor in Diglis Basin, which is much safer. Of course, the next morning, the lock keeper turned up, not having been told that I was allowed to be there – but it is just as well that he did, as he informed me that the river was open. And had been for a day or so. Communication is a great thing.

Anyway – the the prospect of getting back on track with the rest of the boating was good enough to swing the Mikron gears into motion, in order to try and get some crew to move Tyseley to Pershore for the return of the rest of the cast.

By the next morning, I had managed to coral my friend Ian, who has a boat, and I hadn’t seen for ages, and also Steve and Mandy – of washing fame, if you remember – so that we could do the move in 2 days. Easy, short days. In theory.

But as these things are wont to turn out, nothing was going to be as easy at it seemed. The first problem was that Ian was delayed in getting here by an unexpected call at work. So what had been an 11 o’clock start turned into a 6pm one. And what was going to be a leisurely potter up the Severn to Tewkesbury turned into a race against sunset. Which was made more entertaining by the knowledge that we had had to sign a disclaimer before setting out saying that if we hit any debris, it was our own stupid fault, as we had jolly well been warned. Evidently, the boat had not been down to clear it yet. As the sun got lower in the sky, we started to try and work out our groundspeed in order to see whether we would make it to Avon lock in time. The trouble is that there are not a lot of places to moor on the Severn, and once you have gone past one, you are really committed to at least 6 miles of further boating before you are likely to find another place to hole up. Having calculated that were probably making about 9 mph ground speed, we decided to risk it. And we made it, just. Although we obviously missed the lock hours by a long way, and stopped off beneath the lock to wait for the morning to go up and onto the Avon proper.

Tewkesbury was not as devastated as I had expected it to be – most places seemed to be reopening, and we found a restaurant and a pub that were open for business without any difficulty. Which was a pleasant surprise.

The next morning, with Ian gone, and Steve and Mandy on their way, I went off to the chandlery to by some stuff to fix the leak, which seemed to be getting worse. The rag was holding I back – but not very convincingly.

This time, though, we managed to set off in plenty of time – so we were expecting to arrive in Pershore for lunchtime. How naïve. We had been warned that Pershore lock was a bit silted, but that it was being dredged that day – so the plan was to get there, and, if it was not quite ready, just wait until it was. Afterall, we were in no hurry.

The first entertainment of the day came Around Strensham lock. Everything was going fine. Steve was on the back – he has years of experience, mostly on rivers. It all started when I decided to remove some debris from the lock gates which was threatening to catch in the gear. So Steve hovered in the lock mouth to wait for me. Which was a mistake, as he was hovering close to the grumpiest man in the world, who didn’t like “dirty coal barges” on his river. You see, he was 80 next week and had been on the river for 32 years. So I guess it was only right that he owned it. The stream of abuse was unbelieveable. He even had an oar, and was threatening physical abuse if we came any closer to his boat. I think it flapped Steve a bit, who, rather than sit tight, in the perfectly sensible place that he had positioned himself, decided to get away from the old git, and then come back for me. Unfortunately, that was the moment that the wind started to gust across the stream, blowing him towards some other moored boats. I decided that the best thing to do was to act as a smokescreen to give Steve a chance to extricate himself from the bank, and engaged the bloke in the argument that he obviously wanted. I was very polite indeed. And it was all I could do to keep from laughing. Here was a guy that was giving us abuse for being a metal boat that should never be on a river, and what was he on? A metal SHIP’s lifeboat. I asked him whether his boat had been designed for use on the river or at sea – and he was quiet for a bit. But not for long. Anyway – it distracted him for long enough that Steve could get back his composure – and off we set again.

Anyway – after negotiating the weirs and tight bends at Nafford lock – we were relieved to find ourselves approaching Pershore. And in pretty good time, too. But on arrival – it was apparent that the lock had not been dredged. On emptying it, there was a large island visible in the lock. Probably enough room there to get a shorter boat in – but Tyseley? No chance. What then became apparent was that there was also no way off the lock island itself. A weir stream on both sides – and no way across. Simple. Wind the boat round, and head off back to Pershore bridges, where there is a nice mooring that is not far from the town. Except that there is also nowhere to wind a 72ft boat. We tried. For hours. Part of the problem was that the stream was still running fast – so once you got anywhere near the river itself, there was no way that you could just turn. The only solution – and we had to find one, because a phonecall revealed that the lock was not going to be dreged for a while, and Steve and Mandy had to get back at some point, and I had to do a show the next day… - was to reverse down the stream towards the bridges, and try and wind in the entrance to the lower weir stream. If that failed, we were going to have fun being swept towards the narrow arches of the two Pershore bridges. Which are on a bend, just to make things even more interesting. Well, to cut the beginning of a long story short, we did manage to wind round – and it must be the fastest turn I have ever made in a boat – I managed to get the stern in the calmer water by the entrance to the weir stream – and the current did the rest!

And so we are now staying at Pershore Bridges picnic site, from where we are taking to van to the village halls that we are performing at for the next week or so.

Pershore is quite a nice place. But there is not a lot to do. However, the leisure centre provides a respite from the tedium of coffee shops. Except that, unfortunately, it had been flooded – and so the swimming pool that I swum the channel in last summer was closed. Ruth and Adrian ran – but I can’t bear it (I am not fit enough, probably…) so I just spent a lot of time wandering around the woods where we were moored. There is a horticultural college, or something similar, just up the road – and the woods are full of exotic trees, so it makes for interesting wandering. The college also played host to the Pershore Jazz festival, which Adrian and I investigated. It was a very strange experience – sitting around not drinking because we had a show to do in the evening – and feeling terribly out of place because, if it was not for me, Adrian would have been the youngest person there by about 20 years. Still – it was a fine way to spend a few hours, sitting in the sun with a glass of lemonade, and listening to the strains of Trad Jazz drifting out from the bar.

There didn’t seem to be much point in moving the boat up Pershore lock – without the lure of the swimming pool, and with the prospect of a flooded car park, it seemed better to stay on the mooring below the lock – which was much prettier than the park. It did make the morning toilet trip a bit more of an effort – but that was a small price to pay for the scenery.

You see – the toilet becomes an important issue for the section of tour around the Wychavon district. There is no elsan disposal in Pershore – and the next point that is marked on the map is no longer existent. So the only way to empty the Dubbya – and fill the water tank – is to take a trip back down Nafford lock. Now, this might not seem such a problem – after all it is not far, and the prospect of moving the boat is actually a real relief, as it alleviates the cabin fever that inevitably sets in after a few days of sitting still.

The problem is that Tyseley is rather too long to fit down the locks – so we have to go down them backwards. Which adds a certain amount of interest, and time, to the journey. Well – I enjoyed it, anyway! And the bemused looks from the other boaters – who were, after they had seen the amount of space left in the lock once we were in, fairly happy to have been warned off coming in with us. But with the build up of waiting traffic, winding back round was a bit of an obstacle course – but one that we negotiated with style, I like to think; performing something of a boat ballet. Even if some of the pirouettes were not necessarily intended.

And the destination? Possibly the smelliest Elsan disposal in the world. You can smell it for about a mile before you get to it, if the wind is in the right (or wrong) direction: it is situated by the sewage farm. But I believe the water from the water point is safe. At least, we are still alive…

This year, we should have had the prospect of another boat move – because we were planning to take Tyseley up to Cleeve Prior village wharf, where we intended to moor up, and perform in front of the boat. We had done it by van the year before, and it would have been an excellent venue to bring the boat to, but unfortunately we were unable to because we had to get to Apperley the next day.

However – it proved impossible yet again, because the field had been… yes… flooded, and was more of a marsh. So we had to play in the village hall, and travel by van. Next year…

So we were all looking forward to the prospect of a move when it came time to finally leave Pershore. And we were primed to reverse through the locks. But the night before we were due to move off…

It rained.

When we got back to the boat after our performance, we noticed that the level was getting higher. And when I got up the next morning – it was about a foot and a half up. You could tell, because the landing was under water. And the flow through Pershore bridges was frightening. Fortunately, we were the right side of them – but we still had to negotiate winding round at the locks – both above and below the weirs, the Swan’s Neck, and another narrow bridge, which is notorious in a strong current. I had been advised that if it was really strong that it was best to reverse through…

The journey to Tewksbury was fun. And I was glad of the beer that we had on the Tjalk – the trip boat that operates from there, and where the van had been taken so we could load up without having to trek everything across a field. I didn’t reverse through the bridge – but I understand why it would be a good idea, certainly in anything stronger than the current we had. I was glad that Adrian had put the short pipe on instead of the tall river pipe! At the speed we went through, if we had had anything left at all, it would have been 2 shorts!

Once we were back on the Severn, things were much calmer. Actually, they were calmer As soon as we had dropped down the last lock, the Avon is much wider there, and the extra water is much more easily absorbed. But even the Severn was high. And when we got to the Coal House at Apperley, I wondered why I could see the mooring. The reason was that it was under water – but at least I remembered where it had been – so we managed to find it, and tie up. But the get in looked as if it was going to be a bit wet. Fortunately, by the time that we came to set up, the level had begun to drop fast, and the landing stage was above the water. It is amazing how fast the river changes.

The Coal House had been very badly flooded. The mark at the bar was shoulder height, and they are up a considerable slope. But they had managed to reopen, with a keg on the bar, and boxes of cider. The place looked amazing. If you didn’t know, you wouldn’t have believed the state it had been in – but everyone had chipped in to clean it up and redecorate, and the result was fantastic. The weather was still looking a bit ominous, though – but we had the solution, at last… a new shelter had arrived, to replace the ancient gazebo that we had been using. This thing not only looks smart, but sets up with 2 people in about a minute. At least it does once you have figured it out. It took us considerably longer that first time. In the end, though, the weather was fine – and we had a good crowd. The pub was happy too – the barman said that it was like a celebratory reopening for them, and the atmosphere was great. I had a very enjoyable evening, not influenced at all by the perry, of course.

We were supposed to be performing at the Haw Bridge Inn the following night, but they had been unable to reopen after the flooding, and were facing the prospect of being closed until Christmas. So we decided to move up to the Camp House Inn at Grimley, which is one of my favourite pubs (something I think I share with Mike) a day early. This is not good for the liver, but it is good for the soul! I promised myself that I would not succumb to the Grimley Gorilla – and I managed for the first night. But the aftermath of the appalling weather that hit us on the day of our show meant that I was feeling a lot less resolute on the second night, and as we came to leave the next morning, I remembered why it was that I MUST avoid it next year…

Our next 2 shows were in Wightwick, which was too far for us to manage in a day from Grimley, so we met the van in Kidderminster, after a very slow day of boating back on the canals. It is a bit of a shock to the system to come off the Severn, through the basins at Stourport and onto the Staffs and Worcs, which is very shallow, and quite windy. All of a sudden, the boating gets back to normal, and you remember just how fast river boating is. Oh – and you have to work the locks again.

I do like both, though – and the locking was welcome, at least from my point of view!

The Fieldhouse is a new venue to us – although not a new landlord. He had had the Queen’s Head in Eynsham, but moved up the cut. The weather, again, was awful. But we had a good turnout, considering. Next year – I hope we will be able to bring the boat closer, although it will still involve a treck because, like the Queen’s Head, the pub is not actually on the canal. But we have been promised help with the transport, if we can’t get the van there easily. I personally feel that this is the way forward. I have no objection to performing in venues that are not immediately accessible to the water – but if we can get a lift from that end, rather than playing tag with the van, it makes the whole thing much more doable – and still feels like fun!

And so we came to the last of our days of proper boating: from Kidderminster to High Offley, and the Anchor. And what a great trip to end on – especially as the weather had decided to take a turn for the better. About time, too. We carried on through the wiggles and shallows as we left the vast shopping quarter of Kidderminster, and made our way, past the sight of the fallen tree incident of two years ago, to Wombourne where we stopped for the night. And then set off the next morning in glorious weather. There are all sorts of interesting bits, with the Bratch locks being one of my favourites, and then once you are onto the Shroppie, the boating gets easier, and you can really start to appreciate the countryside. We made very good time the second day, and the weather was so nice that we carried on into the evening, through Brewood, and stopped off near just before Wheaton Aston, and had dinner before walking to the pub in the sunset.

The last day saw another fine morning of boating up to the Anchor, where we were met by old friends from last year, when we had had a fine evening that turned into another fine morning after everyone came back to the boat…

And the weather was still wonderful – so much so that we didn’t bother putting up the shelter, for the first time since it arrived. And what an evening. People just didn’t stop coming – in the end there were almost 300, which was great to see. It was almost the first time that we had seen the sort of audiences that I remembered from last year, and the night was a complete success, with music afterwards in the bar, and then whisky once we had been kicked out of there! I was incredibly relieved that we had at least experienced one of the evenings that keep me wanting to do this job!

And it wasn’t the last – the next day, we went back to Norbury, to the Junction Inn, and we had an audience approaching 200, again, more than we are used to there, and another fine show.

The next morning I wandered up to George, a large Woolwich, having been invited by Tim, who knows Mikron of old, to play with the Bollinder engine. The whole alchemy of starting the thing has to be seen to be believed. I love the magic of it – but I’m not sure I’d want to have to go through it every day on Tyseley!

But that was it – really. Because we had a 45 minute trip to Gnosall, where the boating ended. And, although the Coton Mill is a fantastic venue, and the welcome we get from the Witts is incredible, with dinner, and washing, thrown in – I couldn’t help but wish that we weren’t actually ever going to arrive – because that was where we are leaving the boat before she is taken back to Leigh for the winter, and her paint job.

But it was worth it, again – because we had another great evening, with a bigger audience than I think has ever been seen there, and fine weather yet again. If only it could have been like that all summer, as it was last year…

Although it was the end of the boating, it was not the end of the summer tour. We still had 2 shows to do – by van. The first one was at the Clock Warehouse in Shardlow, which is a very impressive building. And one that I wish we could get Tyseley to. When we arrived there, it was obvious that a lot of people had been there all day, soaking up the sun – and the contents of the bar while they were at it, judging by the state of some of them. As the evening drew on, they became louder and louder, and it culminated in a drunken lob of a football into the crowd that had gathered to see us, narrowly missing any audience members, but causeing a deal of concern. It looked as if things might turn a bit ugly – but, fortunately, the family concerned had obviously had enough, and disappeared just before we started. But the thing that will stick in the mind about this show will be – the cold. It was freezing. It had been a clear sky all day, and the night fell with no cloud cover above us. Of course, we had a beautiful sunset across the fields looking over to the raised canal, but the temperature dropped suddenly, and didn’t really seem to stop. It is hard playing instruments when you can’t feel your fingers!

And our last show was not particularly warm, either – at the amphitheatre in Stone, which, again, is canal side, and somewhere where the boat seems to be missing… But it is a cracking venue for us, and one that I hope we will do again next year – we are already going back in the Autumn, but given the temperature this time, I wonder if we oughtn’t invest in some thermals! The show over, and the raffle drawn, I was dropped back to Tyseley to spend a night there on my own, tidying up what mess was left and getting her ready for the Tupplings to take to Leigh. She is a different boat, without the rest of the company, and unladen by the set. I suspect that the hole might even be above the waterline, almost!

Is anybody out there?

Ok – so it’s been a while. My excuse, such as it is, is that I have been on holiday. Yes – we are actually allowed to have some time off, occasionally! So – just to keep you up to date – we are now tied up ready to do a show at the Tom o’ Wood, back on the Grand Union. We came back to the boat at Cropredy, where Mike had dropped her off the week before (having removed anything that he deemed out of date. Including a load of spices which were in RECYCLED jars. Honestly… (I know he reads this – so I’m just teasing…) But the boat was immaculate, and several things that had been meaning to be mended for ages were, at last. And we had some nice flowers!). Of course, the floods were just beginning – and our proposed venue had been under water just before we arrived, as I discovered when I finally managed to turn my phone back on after a week in the woods. Fortunately, Auntie Shirl had managed to book the village hall as a precaution – and we were very grateful to have an indoor venue. After the difficulties involved in getting four cast members and a van together after a week off, with the transport system on its knees, the last thing we wanted was to have to cancel our first show.

But by the time we got to the Wharf in Fenny Compton, the weather was starting to show signs that almost suggested improvement. In other words, we actually managed to do a show outside without getting drenched. Another bonus was that they fed us – which was very kind indeed!

The next day was a bit grimmer. But it started well: going across the summit of the Oxford is one of the best ways to start any day – and at wasn’t actually raining when I set off. So I was in high spirits. But seven and a half hours boating through rain that was almost solid, with just enough sunny spells to let you start to dry out and remember what dry feet might feel like – and a wind that seemed to be competing with it for attention starts to get a little wearing. However, the excitement of getting stuck in the second to last lock at Napton added a little something. Actually it was rather exciting in the end. When we got stuck, I had a look at the situation, and given that we appeared to have clear air down both sides of the lock, I figured we were actually caught on something on the bottom. I tried flushing us through with one of the top paddles – and we had plenty of movement up and down, but nothing forward. Or indeed backward, as we were now jammed just to far out of the lock to shut the gates and try to fill it up and drain it again to get rid of whatever was there. We tried ropes. We tried just about everything that I could think of. And then the men in blue sweatshirts turned up. Apparently the lock has a slight curve to the sides under the water line. We were sitting on that – and they knew just what to do. They opened the paddles of the lock above to flood the pound above us – and then with people on the bow rope – and me on the tiller with the engine hammering away, they whacked open both top paddles on our lock. And Tyseley shot out like a cork from a bottle. And we did manage to stop before meeting the next lock! I enjoyed myself, at least…

But the Boat at Birdingbury Wharf is well worth the trouble, and there was the prospect of more food there too – so we ploughed on! When we arrived, it was still looking bleak. So we decided to go inside, where we would at least be warm, if slightly cramped. But with a shift of the tables, the space transformed itself into something that really resembled a fringe venue. And we had a cracking evening. The place was rammed – we completely took over the entire pub, but the landpeople were pleased – Almost everyone there was there to see us, and they ate and drank just as you would expect any self respecting Mikron audience to do. So the evening was exactly what it should be – a mutually beneficial collaboration between us and the pub. I think the audience picked up on the supportive atmosphere – they certainly seemed to enjoy themselves. Of course – the weather cleared. Sod’s law, I guess…

And even better – we were brought a very kind bag of supplies to keep us going through the dearth of supermarkets. People are incredibly kind to us. And we really appreciate it! Even kinder was the offer to do some washing – something that is well beyond the call of duty! Thanks Mandy!

The next day was a day off – yes I know, it wasn’t long since our holiday, but I think that there is a slight gap in the available venues around there. If anyone has any ideas….

Actually – it turned into a moving day, in reality, because we had to get the boat up to the top of the Hatton flight. Ruth and Adrian were staying on the boat anyway, so we had plenty of hands available – for another wet day of boating. But we stopped off in Leamington Spa – dried off and set off to sample the nightlife. Well, have dinner, at any rate. And then played pool and set the world to rights whilst listening to the worst comedy club in the world through a curtain. We only knew it was a comedy club because it said so on the door. We didn’t hear a single laugh…

And the next day took us up Hatton – which I enjoy, even if it is hard work. It was particularly fun this time, as Anna was away for her day off, and Adrian had to cycle into town to meet his son, who was coming aboard for a visit. And was supposed to be arriving as we set off, but had failed to get out of bed…

So Ruth and I had to start us up the flight. And once we worked out a decent system, we made fairly light work of it. And it is fun; stepping off the back counter with the boat still moving forward, but the engine in reverse, to close the gates – and hoping that you have judged it right and she will come back to you to allow you to get back on again! It was much easier, though, when Adrian and Matthew turned up – and we also gathered another boat as we caught them up – and two are faster than one. So we weren’t too knackered when we got to the top. Actually – we never made it quite that far, because the Waterman pub is not accessible from the top. Fortunately, I realised this as we were passing the BW workshops. Unfortunately, there did not seem to be much access there either. SO a quick call to the lovely people that own the dry dock there, and we were trying to manoeuvre ourselves in. Which was difficult, as there was an enormous amount of silt – as well as what appeared to be concrete blocks (which I imagine is what the boats that are dry docked sit on?) in the way. And with the pound likely to fill and drain randomly with passing boats using the lock, I didn’t fancy getting us jammed. So we had to come back out and go in nose first.

Even though we had a mooring – the get in for the pub was up an enormous hill. Which is not easy with all our stuff. But again, it was absolutely worth the effort. Although the night turned cold – the weather held – and we had a beautiful evening in a stunning setting. The audience was great, especially for a new venue, and the show went down very well, I think. The venue seemed to be happy, too – and hopefully it will become a regular addition to our schedule.

So, off again the next afternoon for the short trip to Rowington – which was a lovely boat: the sun was out, and it started to really feel like the tour that it should be: boating in fine weather, through beautiful scenery, a good show behind you, and the prospect of a great venue ahead. However, first of all we had to get out of the dry dock, which seemed to have silted up all over again….

The worst thing was that the silt had not only silted up the canal – it had also filled up our impellor. This I realised when black smoke started to belch from the water outtake. Fortunately, a short swim and a coathanger later, we were on our way again none the worse for weat.

We arrived at the Tom o’ the Wood, and the weather was promising a fine evening. Faye, who’s garden we tie up in (or by, I suppose, really) came out to meet us with her two dogs – and introduced us to her show goats. And we settled ourselves down for a wonderful time.

Of course – just as we had finished setting up in the garden, the clouds started to gather.

By the time that we had had our dinner – and people were starting to arrive for the show, it was really and truly raining – and appeared to be set to continue for the rest of the evening. Fortunately, some of the first people to arrive were the Wurgies (I don’t know how you spell that – you know, the Waterways Recovery lot…). So we enlisted their support, and moved the show to the outside smoking area. Which was under cover.

The show was very damp – but great fun none the less, and with the help again of the Wurgies, we did one of the fastest get outs in history. Which gave us all the more time to sample the delights of the Tom, which has changed hands again – and for the better, I think. It’s less of a wine bar now.

And then back for port and cheese with the Wurgies. What a fantastic day.

The next morning I had arranged to milk the goats – and the idea of port seemed like slightly less of a sensible proposition than it had the night before. But I got up – and Ruth and I had a great time learning to milk. The things you get up to on a Mikron tour…

Come lunchtime, Adrian, Matthew and I started to take the boat up Lapworth locks – Anna and Ruth had gone off to a spa to celebrate yet another day off. Lapworth locks are fantastic – they are not to heavy, they are in a beautiful setting – and they are wonderfully bendy. So much so that you can’t get two full length boats past eachother on some of them – as we discovered last year when we had to help crowbar apart two wedged trip boats!

We moored up at the top, and walked back down to the pub for dinner – and met Rob who has come to visit for a few days. Another fine evening! And a wonderful moonlit walk back to the boat afterwards.

So, today we are making our way slowly along the very shallow Stratford – blowing all manner of bends, and narrowly missing the boat that we hit two years ago. How the memories come flooding back!

Well – since I wrote that last bit, we have removed several jumpers, yards of rope and about a dozen plastic bags from our prop, frightened some hire boaters in Wast Hills Tunnel and arrived at our mooring for the night. We were going to go on to Alvechurch – but we decided to stop for dinner at one of the most beautiful spots on the canal that I know – just by Lower Bittel Reservoir – and watch the start of the sunset. As we were struggling to get our stern in to the bank on the towpath side – someone from the private moorings asked if we wanted to stop off in an empty space there. So here we are – and after the offer of a lift to the village to restock our wine cellar, we are going to stay the night. I love this job.

Bye, Bye, Boat

This morning I said goodbye to Tyseley. Mike is moving her to Cropredy for the start of the second leg of the tour, and we are now in Camberly, at a very odd guest house, before we troop off to Fleet to do our show this evening.

But I am getting ahead of myself. We have had two very successful shows at Thrupp – excellent turnouts for both, at last. The weather the first day was a bit of a worry, and we set up in a smaller corner of the garden, in order that the audience could have some shelter. It had been raining all day, and we were not expecting there to be a great deal of interest, judging by the attendance in previous venues when the weather had been inclement. We needn’t have worried – though the audience was smaller than last year. And we definitely made the right choice not to go indoors, where we would never have fitted everyone in. Mike had come down early to see his show – and give us notes… But, fortunately, he did not have much for us to change. I wonder if he has just given up trying to get us to do it right? There followed a pleasant night aboard Tyseley with lovely people and wine.

The next day, the weather was much improved – indeed the sun was out, but it still seemed a little presumptuous to move away from the prospect of shelter – especially when the sky darkened to almost black about half an hour before we were due to start. But the evening cleared into a beautiful one, and the audience was even bigger than the night before. In fact, it was almost impossible to get everyone in – even with lots of people standing. It does, though, make for a better show, I think, to have the audience quite closely packed… there seems to be more of a sense that we are all part of one thing – and I really enjoyed the show. There followed a pleasant night aboard Tyseley with lovely people and wine. And whisky.

And I managed to get to a laundrette. Everyone is glad.

So Tyseley has gone – and we are on the road. Again. The only problem was that Mike left at 9.30 this morning, and the van needed to have its brakes fixed, and was not going to be ready ‘till 12, which left us homeless. Adrian took the van into the hospital at 8 – and after we had gone down and watered up with Mike, Anna, Ruth and I were to be found sitting by the side of the cut, reading. But the day was saved by a very kind boater who took pity on us, and plied us with tea and biscuits. And we all had a fine morning, in the end. Apart from Adrian, who was still stuck with the van. Sorry, Adrian. Anyway – the three of us were quite cheerful when the van arrived…

We had been given the most useless map in cartographical history to work with. The crowning glory if which was the Road That Does Not Exist. But we got here. And here is a ‘Guest House’ run by the Theosophical Society. Which I think is really an off duty retreat. But it has beds, and breakfasts (vegetarian), and it is home for the next couple of days. And the grounds are amazing!

So this is what summer is..

Another day off… And instead of the planned move from Long Wittenham to Eynsham, we only had to go from Isis lock to Thrupp. Which is a lovely journey. It has a few locks, and a few lift bridges – just enough to make it interesting, but not enough to make it hard work. The day started off with an attempt to start another boater’s engine – which ultimately ended in failure, as it seems that our jump leads are not very healthy. I suppose it is good to know this before we need them ourselves…

Then Ruth and I – Ruth had decided to stay for the trip – set off, armed with plenty of liquid sustenance, as the sun was finally out, and we didn’t want to get too dehydrated. The fact that our choice of liquid was largely diuretic didn’t matter.

The sun stayed out – and the trip was fantastic. This is what the summer should be about! We only had one minor adventure, as we waited for a boat to come down a lock, and waited, and waited… The water was coming out of the bottom gates, but the boat was not coming down with it. And sure enough, a quick investigation revealed all four paddles up, and the pound steadily draining above. Oh well.

So now we are tied up at Thrupp, outside the Boat. Which does excellent food, if you are interested (neither of us could be bothered cooking last night…). And the sun is still out. So I am a happy man.

At last...

Bablock Hythe was not under water. And the lock was not open, so we had to traipse up and across the lock with all the stuff for Married to the Job, and then make our way to the Ferryman by van. At least this year we managed to end up on the right side of the Thames. Last time, we followed the instructions given by Multimap and ended up with 70ft of water between us and the venue – and a long drive to get on the other side.

The weather was inclement, to say the least – and so we decided to go inside. And had a fine evening, with an audience that more or less filled the room that we were playing in.

The next day – and the lock was… still on red boards. So another journey to Bablock Hythe by van. At least, by now, everything was in the van, so life was much easier. Unfortunately, for some reason, everyone had come to see the show last night. Perhaps they didn’t realise that we were doing two different shows, although I did mention it several times the night before. And – before you think it – we weren’t that dreadful the night before that they would all have been put off. Whatever the reason, there were only 4 people there. I think that that is the smallest audience I have ever encountered. But they had made the effort to come – and Adrian had sold them raffle tickets. So I felt that we ought to do the show, much to the irritation of some of the others. But it is very hard to make a decision to cancel when there are people there who really want to see the show.

Anyway – we did the show. And it was really rather good fun. Honestly!

And this morning, the boards came down. Even though there didn’t seem to be much improvement in the state of the river. In fact, the only thing that seemed to have changed was that the wind had started gusting hard. But we couldn’t stay at the foot of the lock any longer, even though it would have been convenient, seeing as everything was in the van. So off we went – Tyseley steaming at full power up past the weirs, and under the low bridge at Osney. And we made it with ease. In fact, the only real problem was the wind. I suspect that we could have made it just as easily on any of the previous days too, but you have to listen to the lock keepers, after all, they know much more about the river than I do. And even though you feel a little bit daft sitting still when you could have been moving – you would feel even more daft getting into trouble when you have been warned!

The turn into the Oxford was a bit fun though, in the stream, and the wind. But what made it really interesting was that the stream seemed to slacken off just as I was expecting it to push our bows round and into the channel. Oh well!

So now we are tied up in the relative calm of the Oxford, before moving up to Thrupp tomorrow.

Still stuck

Ummm… I suppose that the good news is that we managed to do the show. In fact, I think it was a rather good evening. But…

Tyseley is still tied up below Osney lock. The lock keeper was adamant that it was not sensible to go through. Even though a couple of boats have passed us – but the only one of them that was a narrowboat didn’t get far. As far as I am concerned at the moment, the lock keepers know more about the river than I do (I have only done this stretch twice before), and if they say stay, then I will. But it is very frustrating.

Anyway – we decided at about lunch time that there was no way that they were going to take the red boards down today, so Adrian set off to Woolhampton to fetch the van. 4 hours of negotiating the ridiculous public transport system later, he came back. In the mean time, we had been witness to the drama of another narrowboat being swept downstream, and returning rather shaken, and without much interior fittings unbroken, under the supervision of a pilot. Perhaps we made the right decision to stay put.

We enlisted the help of a very helpful (and bored) neighbouring boater and loaded up the van. Which we couldn’t get anywhere near the boat, of course – it was one of those days. And then we set off for Woolvercote Green. And the most amazing storm was set loose. Hailstones and all.

Of course, by the time that we had arrived at the Plough, the storm had passed, and it was all looking very beautiful, except that the field that we usually perform in was now a bit of a quagmire. And after much umming and ahhing, we decided to go inside, in the room that they called the Library. It is a great room, with a wall of bookshelves, and a fantastic atmosphere. We knew that we were never going to match the 100 plus that we had had last year, given the precipitation, but we had to keep our fingers crossed that there were going to be enough seats.

In the end, there were almost exactly the right number of seats for the audience – and it did indeed chuck it down again as we started, so the right decision was made. And the show was great fun. Even if the group of American students did decide to leave just as we were finishing. I was a little rude about that in my speech, but then had to eat my words as it turned out that they did, in fact, all pay – through their tutor. So if any of you are reading this, then I am sorry for poking fun at you!

So, now we are waiting to see what tomorrow will bring. I don’t hold out much hope that the lock will be open, and I can only hope that Bablock Hythe will not be under water. Let’s just see, eh?

Fingers Crossed

Which brings us to today. And what a day we have just had. The theory was that we would travel from Goring to somewhere around Abingdon, stop for the night, and then continue on up to Wolvercote Green tomorrow. That is what we have done in years past. Unfortunately, all the water that has been falling from the skies has found its way into the Thames, and the flow is ridiculous. All day we had been hearing that various locks were on red boards – the signal that passage is not advisable. Of course, they can’t stop you from going through, but my take on it is that they know more about these things than I do, so if they say ‘stay put,’ then I will. I am happy to brave the amber warnings, but not the red ones…

Anyway – as things were constantly changing, I reckoned it would be a good idea just to get as far as we could today, until we met something that made us stop – so we kept battling our way upstream, occasionally passing red warning boards for the downstream sections. This is not a problem just now – but it might be when we come back down to do Long Whittenham. We’ll just have to cross that bridge when we come to it.

For the most part, the journey was not too bad. It makes you appreciate just what a good boat we have in Tyseley when you are ploughing past modern builds who are obviously struggling to make any headway against the stream. I am not sure whether they are under powered, or under propped. Whatever the case, they are going nowhere, whilst we can make pretty good time as long as the channel is not too narrow. The last stretch through the beginnings of Oxford was a bit of a nightmare, though. Not only are you sharing the water with a small flotilla of rowing boats, but the river gets narrow and windy. At points, even though the throttle was opened right out, we were only making about 2mph ground speed, and I wrenched all the muscles in my right arm trying to fight our way around the last few bends before Osney Lock. Which is where we are now tied up, along with several other narrow boats, waiting to find out it the red boards will come down tomorrow. Otherwise it looks like we will have to find a way of getting hold of the van. I do hope it won’t come to that! We have also had a phone call from Bablock Hythe suggesting that they may well be under water by the time we get there. Oh well.

A word of advice...

And then off up to Goring. It’s another great boat up there, made more fun by the really strong stream that was coming down the Thames. And the rain. Yes – more rain. I passed several places that I have decided I will have as moorings when I am rich and famous.

Last year, Goring Lock provided the biggest ever audience for an outside show that Mikron has ever done. We knew that this year was not going to be as good simply because the weather has been so bad. It was raining on and off all day – and that is not a good omen for audience numbers. And sure enough there were not nearly as many people as there had been last year. But there was still a pretty good turn out, considering. About 100 or so – which given the fact there is absolutely no shelter is not bad, I reckon. And the show went really well. I don’t know what it is about Goring Lock, but I have enjoyed all the shows that I have done there, and I can’t wait to go back again – hopefully with a better summer, next time.

By the way. If you are ever in Goring, NEVER go to Massoom’s Indian restaurant. It is not the one just next to the bridge, which I think we went to last year, and was rather good, if I remember rightly, but the one further up the high street. It was possibly the worst Indian vegetarian cooking I have ever encountered (greasy starters, five dishes, 2 flavours (neither of them good)). And certainly the most aggressive staff. Be warned.

Corkage

And so to another moving day. We had two days to get to Goring lock – and so it was back down the K&A to reading, and thence on up the Thames. It will not have escaped your notice, I am sure, that it had been continuously raining for about the last week. And the Kennet was very full, and very fast. In fact, I had spent several fun packed afternoons watching as boats ploughed there way into locks and other boats as they tried to negotiate the particularly tricky section between the swing bridge, and the lock that lies outside the Rowbarge. But now it was our turn, it seemed a little less like fun. And we also had the prospect of trying to wind round in the 60ft winding hole that had proved such fun last year.

Well, getting into the lock wasn’t too bad, and nor was winding the 72ft of Tyseley in the tiny hole – once I had taken the fenders off. But heading back downstream was a different matter. Because you don’t have nearly so much control when going with the stream. It was a very odd experience, white water rafting in an old working boat. But I think Tyseley enjoyed it as much as I did. The thing is that you need to have speed through the water in order to have steerage – and when the water is moving fast, that means that you have to be moving faster. Great! Except for those moments when you are convinced that the boat is going to end up facing the wrong way and disappearing down a weir. We didn’t, but there were a couple of moments, especially coming into Reading itself, when I did wonder…

I had been told that the Thames was on red warnings, but when we popped out by Reading, like a cork out of a bottle, there was no sign of any problem. So we tied up to some trees outside Tesco’s to enjoy our evening.

Dead Darth

The other thing that happened in Reading was rain. It rained a lot – although not when we were actually performing, thank goodness. But everything did get a little damp. And Darth (our faithful sound system, so called because his speakers look like Darth Vader’s helmet (I am slightly perturbed to note that my spell checker actually accepts both Darth and Vader…)) decided to give up the ghost. We had hoped that the clickings and poppings that were emanating from him were merely signs of a desire to become more like R2D2, and that once he had dried out he would go back to his normal ways, but the next day, when we plugged him in in the Space in Stroud, there was no improvement. Yes, your right – we didn’t get there by boat, it was a van job. Grrrr….

Anyway – it wasn’t too much of a problem in Stroud, because they had there own sound system. And we kept our fingers crossed that once he had REALLY had a chance to dry out, everything would be OK.

The other problem that the rain brought was that the Kennet was quite full. And full rivers really want to be empty. The only way they can achieve this is to try and get rid of their water as quickly as possible.

The next day, Anna, Adrian and Ruth disappeared to enjoy their days off. Tyseley had to move up to Woolhampton, and I had again enlisted Jo’s help. We knew that the journey was going to be a long one, and that the locks were going to be tough, but we had steeled ourselves for a day of serious boating. Just as we were about to set off, we were hailed from the towpath. All of a sudden our crew was boosted to 4. The friends of Mikron machine had worked its magic, and help was at hand. A journey that I had thought would take us somewhere approaching 9 hours took just over seven. Not bad going!

The Rowbarge has changed a little bit since last year. Last year it was in the hands of temporary landlords, but this year it has been taken over completely, and totally refurbished. It is VERY smart – and full of square leather armchairs. The conservatory has also been replaced by an extension to the restaurant. This means, of course, that there is no insidew option for us to perform in if it rained. As it very seriously threatened to do. In fact, it did more than threaten; it rained all day.

But there is nothing to do other than set up and hope for the best. Rob – who has performed with Mikron for the last 3 years, was visiting, whilst taking a break from his current job with Illyria, another touring company who do outdoor shows, although by van rather than by boat, and had an amazing Gazebo style shelter with him. Having teased him about it, I reluctantly agreed that perhaps it was worth putting up, as ours is very ropey.

The thing is amazing. It goes up in less than a minute, and comes down in about the same time. I am completely converted, and am now in the throes of trying to get the office to invest…

Unfortunately, during the day off, I had tried to get Darth working again, and had failed miserably, but luckily, Adrian had been able to bring a tiny guitar amp that would have to do the job for one night, at least, before we could find a suitable replacement.

By some strange miracle, the evening turned out to be fine, if cold, and we had a great show. The next day, the rain started again. And didn’t really stop. Adrian and I drove into Reading to replace Darth. Well, to be a bit more accurate, Adrian drove, and I sat in the passenger seat. But the net result was that, after spending an age talking to people who didn’t really seem to know much more about the subject than we did, we got a keyboard amp that should be fit for the job, But I got the impression that if we said we were going to use it as a submersible, they would still have tried to sell it to us. Time will tell.

Miracle of miracles, the rain cleared again – and the show was fine. The only trouble is that even though the shows are going aheas, the audiences are not appearing in such great numbers as we would hop. I know it is not surprising, given the weather, but it is a little disappointing.

Captive audience

The next day, we had to get to Reading – for the performance at the Abbey Ruins, just outside Reading Jail. This show is always fun, largely because the prisoners in the upper cells can see out, and want to join in. I discovered two years ago that it is generally best to ignore them. With most hecklers, it is good to engage them a bit, and if that doesn’t keep them quiet, humiliate them into shutting up or leaving. Unfortunately, prisoners have nowhere to go. They don’t ever get bored of shouting ‘Get your tits out,’ and have spent years developing a sense of the truly offensive. So it is best to ignore it completely. This year, though, they seemed to have been on some rather fine comedy workshops, and the heckles included such classics as ‘I am a music man, I come from down your way, what can you play? I play your Mum’s d***’, and the ever popular:

Adrian: …even though I am a Scottish man..

Prisoner: No you’re not, you’re a f***ing batty man.

Lovelly. Still, it’s good to be truly fulfilling Mikron’s promise to take theatre to parts that other touring companies don’t reach…

Hats off.

And so to Bourne End, and the Bounty. Which is a great pub, and one of my favourite venues. It is only accessible by boat, or by ferry. Or you can walk across the nearby railway bridge, but where’s the fun in that? I think that it used to be the club house for an aerodrome that used to be in the fields behind. It certainly has that club house feel. And the landlord is great. But I mustn’t get ahead of myself, without mentioning the the Adventure of Adrian’s Hat, an epic of wind, water and strong currents, involving our hero, Adrian, swimming off into the distance in a pair of very attractive pants, and, not wanting to fight his way back against the flow, dripping his way back along the road before swimming back to the boat, which couldn’t get in to the bank, much to the astonishment of the local residents, who were not just swans.

As we arrived at the Bounty, they were busy setting up a small stage – complete with carpet, and a gazebo – as the heavens were being a bit contrary, and every so often ditching a load of heavy rain on the proceedings. I took a walk across the fields and up the hill behind the Bounty, and watched bands of rain sweep across the valley from the safety of the trees.

Considering the weather, we had a very decent turnout. And a great fun show. Somehow, we avoided the rain for the performance, mostly. Perhaps it was Adrian’s suggestion that the more raffle tickets people bought, the drier it would be… Afterwards, we chatted to some of the friends that had come to see the show, and I caught up with people I hadn’t seen for a year. Which was great, and just the way that the tours should be.

Day off?

Well, we had stopped off in Kingston, after our epic journey. Anna had got off before we started up the Thames so that she could get her train, and Adrian and Ruth started on the red wine. I didn’t fancy mixing possible entertainment on the tideway with a boozy head, so I refrained. But I caught up with them later, once we arrived. Enough that I felt brave enough to have a dip. It’s the best bit about the rivers, that! Adrian succumbed too…

The next day was a ‘day off’. Except that the boat needed to move. So I had planned a great day of boating up the Thames with a couple of my great friends. Adrian decided that he wanted to do the boating too – which is always welcome, and so once we had said goodbye to Ruth, and welcomed aboard Jo and Jeannie, we set off upstream. After checking that we had the obligatory gin and tonics at the ready.

The Thames is a great river – and Tyseley really loves being on a good bit of water – she seems to love being opened up, and allowed to have her head a bit.

We got as far as Windsor and Eton before stopping. In previous years we had stopped off outside a pub in Staines, but I wanted to move up in the world. Of course the ideal situation would have been to stop off at the castle itself – but the queen was at home, but not to visitors, I suspect. It’s a fantastic day of boating, and the sight of Windsor Castle appearing through the trees lining the grounds is lovelly. Apart from the signs telling you that you aren’t allowed to be there. Even though we pay for it…

Anyway, a curry at the foot of the hill seemed like a fine second, and even though everything was very sweet, and accompanied by the strains of raucus public school ditties from somewhere across the road, it was still welcome.

As was the pint at the pub in Eton. Just so we could say we had been to both places, you understand.

Time and tide...

Two days in London, and much catching up with friends later, we set off to do the return journey west along the Regents Canal, and then down to Brentford and onto the Thames. This is a journey that, according to my magic sheet, takes 7 and a half hours. The lock at Brentford was due to be opened at 5, and they said that they would let us through until 6 at the latest. The trouble is that the Thames is, of course, tidal at that point, and passage is restricted. So I left about 8 and a half hours to do the journey – confident that even then we would have an hour of leeway at the other end.

I don’t know how Mike did that journey in 7.5 hours. I know we don’t go particularly fast all the time. I tank along, but not everyone is so blasé, and there are so many stretches of inline mooring that it is difficult to keep up much speed for long without incurring the fork wielding wrath of other boaters. Anyway, as the day wore on, it became apparent that it was going to be a little tighter than I had hoped. But still – we had 2 hours to spare. No problem. I did, however spend quite a lot of time on the back with the throttle open, taking advantage of the long deep stretches where we can get some speed on without destroying the bank.

By the time we got to the junction onto the mainline down to the Thames, it was looking more worrying. There are a lot of locks, and they are not particularly fast. So I kept the speed up. And just as we were coming up to the first lock, the engine tried to cut out.

This happened last year, although that was on the way into one of the Thames locks with other boats in it, and without warning, so the loss of brakes was a little more concerning. At least this time I knew what was happening. So I managed to coax the engine into staying alive, just. But it was a constant battle. I had to go into the engine hole in the end, and increase the tick-over speed. At least, I think that’s what I did. Whatever it was, it seems to have had the right effect. At any rate, we have been able to run the enging flat out on the river without stalling so far – so fingers crossed.

But time is busy marching on. And we are getting closer and closer to spending a night in Brentford, waiting for the tide – which won’t be favourable until the next evening, which is not good for our show schedule, to say the least.

As we are getting into our stride, we catch up with a boat, also heading down the locks. This is good news. 2 boats are faster than one – and we are quite fast at locking, anyway, given that there are 4 of us. And we would have definitely sped up the other boat’s journey, as she was single handed. Eventually we managed to communicate this, and we subsequently finished the rest of the flight in fine time. But still not fine enough for comfort. Things were not made any better by a log that was caught behind one of the lock gates in the next lock down, rendering the gap too small for two narrowboats to negotiate together. Having unjammed ourselves, we set off at breakneck speed to the electric lock before Thames lock. And the wind decided to join in the fun. Which is a little awkward, because the entrance into that lock is rather tricky at the best of times, but 2 drifting boats and sudden gusts just make it far more entertaining far all concerned.

And then we made the final dash to Thames lock, arriving at ten to six, just within our deadline. Only to be told that the tide had already turned, and what should take 55 minutes would be at least a 2 hour journey, punching the tide, and that with an engine that was threatening to cut out if we wound it up too high. Well, there was nothing for it. The next time the lock was manned was at 7 the next morning, and the tide would have been against us then, too. So the journey just had to be done. To the slight consternation of the rest of the crew. But off we set onto the Thames.

50 minutes later we were completing the formalities at Teddington, the end of the tideway. I wonder if the lock keeper had been working on GMT?

Never offer and actor free food...

Oh dear. I have a lot of catching up to do…

Well, I will try and break it up into small chunks – that way you won’t have to trawl through too much at a time. And it seems less daunting to me.

The journey into London was great fun as usual. I love seeing the scenery change, although it is now less of a change to industrial, but to residential ans the developments spring up all along the cut. At least you see that some of them are having their materials delivered by boat…

Of course, it was an early start. We had to get all the way into Kings Cross, and get set up, before the Friends of Mikron Open Brackets South Close Brackets do. At five. So we got up, a little bleary, and left at 7. If I remember. Which is difficult, given that I was half asleep. I know 7 is not really early for most people in the real world. But when you don’t finish work till 11, time takes on a different pattern. We negotiated our way out of the marina in a beautiful morning – it is great boating early – you get the place to yourself.

And the nice thing about the run into London – if you have had an early start and are a looking for a rest – is that there are no locks for miles. But I can’t really let myself do that. Firstly, I feel as if I am missing something. And I also have to keep my weather eye on what is going on in case anything untoward happens. So no sleep for me.

The only problem with this journey is Camden. I have an irrational hatred of going through it. Possibly caused by the stupid things that have happened whenever I go through the locks there, and the fact that there is always an audience to witness you messing up.

This year, we got through fine. Even catching up with the boat that had overtaken us as we went through Regents Park and slowed down to see the animals. They were in a terrible rush. Which we weren’t. But were not going fast enough that they put enough distance between us to ensure that they did anything other than set the locks for us!

Anyway, the closest we came to entertainment was being accosted by the drunks at the lockside, who were very friendly.

This is the first year that we have had a Friends gathering in the south, I think. It seems like a good idea, seeing as our audience is so widespread. It was a shame that we couldn’t organise any form of entertainment other than the regular show (not that any of our shows are regular, really), but after a days boating, and before a performance, there is little scope for fitting anything else in. It was good to see people, though, and have a chance to catch up without having to take set down at the same time! And we lived on the buffet for days afterwards…

Pasta Sauce and Veggieburgers

I remember the Packet Boat Marina from last year very fondly. It was a fantastic show - the weather was glorious, and the audience was enormous, and very happy having been filled with a fantastic barbecue, cooked by South Africans, who know how to do these things properly. I also remember the ridiculously tight turn into the arm on which the marina is. And the fishermen who helped us round with polite comments and the occasional shove of the bows. So I was quite quiet as we approached this year.

We had also had some fun already coming through from Rickmansworth. I had met Harry and Catriona, from whom I bought my boat, in a lock - Springwell, I think - which was a great chance encounter. They had just had their boat blacked - it is one of the new breed of new builds, that Harry has fitted out himself, as he did mine, and it is beautifully finished. But the steel turns out not to be great, with a loss of 1.5mm on the hull in the two years that they have had her. Be warned. He was not too happy, and I don't blame him. Midnight Rambler hasn't lost that much in her whole 15 years of life.

Anyway - just as we were about to fuel up, I asked everyone to get on board, as we were going to stop just round the corner. Of course, this varies in translation on a boat. At that speed, just round the corner can mean many different things. But Anna wanted to stretch her legs, so she walked. This would have been fine, except for two things. First, just as I saw that she wasn't aboard, the heavens opened. Really opened. It was as if a swimming pool had been emptied above us. And second - there is no way from the tow path to where we were going to take on fuel. Another hitch became apparent when I tied up, and discovered that there was no-one there. A few hasty phone calls, and some interesting manoeuvring in the mouth of one of the strongest weir flows on the canal resulted in us all being on the right side, if slightly damp, and making cups of tea while waiting for the fuel tanks to fill.

This year - I knew where the entrance to the Marina was, so I had a massive advantage over last. And I was just busy jumping up and down celebrating getting into the arm without incident, when I remembered that the turn into the marina itself is also deceptively sharp. Oh well. Perhaps next year I'll get them both right first time!

We were, of course, a bit late by now, after having had to wait for fuel (which was just due to messages not coming through on my unreliable mobile), and wondering what we were going to do for food. Not to worry! The mother of one of the organisers was there. And she lives to feed waifs and strays like us, we were assured. We gratefully accepted the kind offer of dinner - and delicious it was too. People are wonderful.

The rain held off until we had finished the show, for a change. And we had another fantastic evening. I hope the Packet Boat Marina becomes another long standing Mikron venue. I can't wait to go back again next year!

Windy bits.

The journey into Uxbridge takes a couple of days from Tring. So we had a moving day - a day when we are not on holiday - but there is no show at the end of it. So it feels like a holiday. I love them. Of course, I love the shows too, but it's nice just to enjoy moving the boat with no real deadline, apart from getting somewhere nice by the time it gets dark.

And the trip into London is one that I really enjoy - it all feels very familiar, I have done it in various directions on my own boat - so it starts to feel as if I am coming home. And it is very odd seeing the countryside change as you come ever closer to the city, and sensing the difference in the people.

There is also one of my favourite bits of windy canal as you go through Grove Park, just north of Rickmansworth. It is all very picture skew - something to do with the Earl of Essex wanting his grounds to look nice, I believe, and the result is a couple of great bends with small and rather concealed bridgeholes. I love it. We didn't hit anything.

As we came in to Casiobury park to tie up just above the boatyard where I lived on stilts for a couple of days as my boat was being grit blasted and blacked, the people started to get a bit odd. It was almost like being in a film - travelling slowly through a random assortment of what could easily have been performance artists. The star was a guy who had taped a mirror to a tree, and was brushing his teeth vigorously with what appeared to be an invisible toothbrush. If something can appear to invisible, that is. We didn't leave the boat that night.

Whether...

Well - tied up outside the Grand Junction, the weather was fine. Until it came time to set up. And then, of course, it rained. There is some space inside - and more now than when we were rained on two years ago as they have removed a bar. But it is never great going inside in a pub - noise, heat, cramped spaces... However, I was not going to repeat the fiasco of 2 years previous when we actually set up three times - so I decided to go indoors. It is a general rule of thumb that if it is actually raining at set up time, we use available resources...

Of course, the moment we had finished setting up, the rain abated, and a general light drizzle ensued - the sort of thing that we are happy to perform in... And the audience started arriving. Lots of them!

Well - it was hot, noisy and cramped. And very hard work, fighting over a working pub. And the audience, I think, had to work as hard as we did. But we got through. The rain was steady, but not too heavy. Perhaps we could have gone outside - at least that's how it felt the whole time I was performing, looking out of the window - through the sweat - and wishing I was there.

But that's the job - making it work. And that's the satisfaction - knowing that you have created a little pocket of storytelling somewhere that it doesn't normally exist. I hope those that were there enjoyed it. I did. In fact, I relish the challenge of persuading a rowdy room to listen. But I am slightly sick, so the others tell me.

Weather...

Ok - it's been a while, but...

First off, the turnout for our second show in Milton Keynes was far better! we had enough people to make it a fantastic evening, and the show went down a storm. Unlike the weather - which was glorious, thankfully. We also discovered a much nicer pub than the ersatz Bridge Inn, or whatever it was called, by Peartree Bridge. It was a bit of a treck, but well worth it, and a fine time was had by all!

We had packed the show into the van, ready for the next days trip to Doxey - the village/part of Stafford (don't suggest THAT in Doxey...) that was the subject of Village Voices, our show of three years ago that dealt with the disappearance of small village communities as they are swallowed up by neighbouring towns and centralised administration. And the journey ended up at the Essexes for lunch. They are good at food in Doxey. The show in the Church hall was another great one - fortunately, as Vashti, our director, and Richard, our writer and assistant-director, were there to make sure we were still heading in roughly the right direction. The highlight, as ever, were the half time cakes. When Doxey isn't producing their easter pantomime (no, really) it bakes. And it is very good at it. So the second half of the show was a bit slower, and slightly rounder than the first. Unfortunately, we couldn't stay for the barbeque after. It was a day off the next day, and people needed to get back to their loved ones. And I needed to get back to Tyseley, who will just have to do in the absence of anyone better...

However, Adrian, who is our only driver, persuaded me to go and visit my brother and his family, as they live on his way, and he wouldn't have to drive all the way back to Milton Keynes. Fortunately - they were amenable to the sudden almost unannounced intrusion. My family are very understanding, but I guess they have had a while to get used to my odd arrivals...

And then back to Milton Keynes for the trip to Tring. I'm sorry to have to say that we got off the mud with no trouble at all. There was more water in the cut when we got back, and we floated off without a hitch, and the help of some local lads who thoroughly enjoyed the chance to mess about with a boat without being shouted at by the owners.

The trip to Marsworth is quite long, so we split it in half, and the first day saw a load of great boating through some great countryside that saw us end up at the Grove Lock Inn, eating our dinner on the bows and watching the sun set, whilst a storm passed us to the north. It is very clean, one of the new breed of canal pubs. There had been talk of us doing a show there. I'm not sure how it would have worked. There were very few boats there. But the staff were very friendly - and even opened their secret stash of whisky for us.

I woke up the next day with a migraine. NO... NOT A HANGOVER! I knew it was a migraine, because I couldn't see a vast chunk. Anyway - it made the start a little bit tricky - because I couldn't see enough to start the engine, let alone steer. So I knocked on Ruth's door and tried to explain, through the slur of pins and needles in my tongue that can't quite be described, what was going on. The engine is tricky to start at the moment - as there is a crack in a vital part that has a name that I can't remember, but needs to be gently coaxed into life with Redex and a syringe. And she started us up and took us up the first hour's worth of cut with no trouble at all. Apart from blowing the exhaust pipe protector a foot into the air. My fault for not mentioning the short pipe needed to be put back on. And, anyway, that's what the chain is for.

After an hour or so, I could see enough to get on with some work, and the rest of the day, although painful, was great fun. The sun was out, and the locks were well spaced, and we wheeled our way up to Startops in very good time, stopping only to empty the dubba - which is what I have just discovered the old boaties called the Elsan. Apparently after double-U C. It kind of reminds me of Dubya Bush. And thus seems to be a fitting description of a box of... well. 'Nuff said!

We set up in Bluebells Tearooms, and then had the dinner that Adrian had cooked for us, and then went back outside to see that the sun had sloped off, and been relieved of his shift by black storm clouds. So out came the Gazeebo. And just as well - as the evening proceeded to become rather damp. The audience mind though, and we all got wet together, and in a spirit similar, I imagine, to that in which the impromptu performances in the tube during the blitz came to pass, we all had a great evening - huddled under umbrellas and tarpaulins, and laughing at the ridiculousness of the evening. I loved it.

We were a little concerned that the pound had emptied whilst we were performing, by about a foot. And we were now at a jaunty angle, and not going anywhere. The pund was to long to just let a lock full through, and there were too many boats to let more through without waking them all up. And none of them were aground. Ahh - the tribulations of an old boat. So I just went to bed, with a makeshift plumbline to make sure we didn't list much more.

And so to today.

The pund had found some more water, and the passing of other boats sucked us nicely off the silt.

A leisurely start, as we only had an hour and a half or so of boating to get us to the next venue, up six locks, which we did in fine time, even without Adrian, who had to go off for an audition. It's great when we work properly as a team, and the locks get done smoothly and efficiently, without the slight panic that accompanies the first few flights that you do together. Everyone starts to know instinctively what the others are about to do.

So now we are tied up outside the Grand Junction Arms, opposite the old workshops, and hoping that the weather holds... Again...

What do you do in CMK?

Another fine day on the boat yesterday. Apart from the weather in the morning, which was only fine in the sense that you can have a fine rain; the sort that permeates everything. Especially when you are standing still in it on the back of a boat. Strangely, there was no sign of Mike at 8am as we started off down the flight of seven locks at Stoke Bruerne on our way to Milton Keynes. Perhaps the frogs had got him?

Anna took us down the first few locks - I very soon decided that she was perfectly capable of doing them by herself and got off to help the others wheel. I like working the locks! It is great that after only a couple days, I can leave people to their own devices on the back. I'm sure it took a lot longer last year. Perhaps I am getting less neurotic in my old age... And then Adrian took over - and proved equally capable. How long can this last?

Some of the Union around here is quite tricky - and we had a couple of interesting moments meeting boats in bridge holes, discovering just how shallow the edges are around the insides of bends and the like. But that is all par for the course, really - and you only learn by experience just how Tyseley behaves. And the only abuse that was hurled at us was from someone on a hire boat who came screaming through a bridgehole on a blind bend without blowing his horn, and was rather surprised to find a 72 foot working boat on the other side. Apparently we can stop at the drop of a hat, take avoiding action and make him a cup of tea. At least, that's the translation I chose to make of his comments. "Morning!", I grinned through the side hatch, Boatus Rictus from ear to ear.

And so we come to Milton Keynes. Which is ALL the same. Every time I passed a bridge, I was sure that "This is where we tied up last year...", but it wasn't. Actually, the trip into Milton Keynes is quite pleasant, probably the best way to see the town. But the canal gets shallower, and fuller of rubbish. Tyseley gets much heavier to steer - and when the banks aren't dredged, you find her stern constantly being sucked onto them. Which is not pleasant if you haven't felt it before.

We also had no idea where we were going... Interaction is a new venue to Mikron - and I had no idea what to expect. Beyond - it's by the bridge, on the right, behind some trees. And there was going to be a mooring free for us. Well - we got to peartree bridge, and sure enough, there were some trees. But there are always trees. And surely that rotten looking collection of planks and tyres isn't the mooring we are looking for. So, I put the nose back into the centre of the cut to carry on. And then appear two waving men. And, yes, that is our mooring! So back into reverse I go, and try again. And again. And again. It soon becomes apparent that nothing with a draft of over 2 feet has been on that mooring in years. And Tyseley is over 3 feet deep at the back. There was no way we were going to get in without some serious effort. I tried dredging out a channel in reverse. I tried poling. I tried using the mooring as a fulcrum (but that just threatened to detroy what was left of the jetty...), all to no avail. However... On the mooring behind us, there was an old BW tug. With an enormous Lister engine in her. And one of the waving men was her owner. I think you can guess the next bit...

So now, we are able to get to the bows from the shore, and the stern is not so far over that other boats can't get by. But we are at a bit of an angle. And I am slightly nervous because, although we were promised a pull off when we need to get going - he is going to be at work on Tuesday. I have been assured that it will be alright, though. Oh well - I'll cross that bridge later.

The venue here is lovely - a beautiful garden, with a pond that is home to newts and water voles (as well as rats that we found investigating our props...). I am sure it will prove to be a great location. But unfortunately, the turn out was extremely poor. I suspect that it was partly the weather, and partly due to the fact that we have never been here before. But the show went very well - despite the lack of audience, and we all felt that we had actually managed to find a whole new lease of energy for some of the scenes. Which is a great feeling! Still - I hope some more people turn out tonight. I'm not holding my breath, though.

And now I am sitting in the garden, and wondering - what do you do in Central Milton Keynes?

Tunnel Vision

Today we had a proper day of boating - 8 hours worth, our first taste of the things to come. And our first tunnels! Adrian was on the back for the trip through Braunston - which has some fine wiggles in it. And once he got the hang of it - which didn't take long - I think he quite enjoyed it. And Anna and Ruth sang the traditional songs on the bows to ward off the ghosts. Which they managed to do - but failed to ward off other boats, who we passed without incident.

I was on the back on my own for Blisworth, and hoping for a speedy trip through. I don't much like tunnels. I get tunnel vision after a while - when you are not quite sure what you are looking at, and where up is. It is an ailment that seems to be related to Boatus Rictus - the fixed grin that comes from the constant repetition of "Morning!" as you pass other boats. Anyway - I like to get through tunnels quickly, and was looking forward to beating the record that Mike constantly harps on about of something stupid like 24 minutes. Probably fortunately, for the sake of the hull and the others nerves, we got ourselves stuck behind the slowest boat in the world, and crawled through in what seemed like 14 hours. I swear that even at tickover we got close enough that I could read the dials on their fancily lit dash. We would never have beaten the record anyway - as we, again, met a trip boat coming the other way. It was a very strange experience to see the ghostly image of the brilliantly lit boat appear out of the gloom, and glide past with a seemingly endless procession of pensioners staring out from behind their blankets...

The canal museum, like the Admiral Nelson, did not seem to promising in terms of numbers. Unfortunately, they didn't pick up in quite the miraculous fashion that they had the night before. Probably as a result of the weather, which, although dry, was not great. Still, we had reasonable crowd, who all seemed to enjoy it, which was fortunate as Mike had come to check up on us. It is always a bit tricky when the director turns up, as we have to try and remember what we are SUPPOSED to do...We did have our first interesting encounter with venue staff, though. I think they were not overly impressed with having to wait around for us. When they could have been at home in front of their tellies. Oh well. When they unplugged our lights and threw the cable out of the door, we got the message, and had to finish our get out in the dark. I hope we haven't left anything vital... Anyway - Mike seemed happy. As did everyone else in the pub afterwards. Perhaps something to do with the Frogs. A local beer - not the amphibious sort.

Long time, no reception

Well, I suppose that is the problem with trying to be clever on a boat. So now I have a chance to catch up. Since Badsey's, we have been to the Admiral Nelson in Braunston, and the Canal Museum in Stoke Bruerne - and are currently tied up with our stern halfway across the cut in Milton Keynes after our first show at Interaction last night. More later...

The Admiral Nelson is a great pub, situated right by the lockside, a small bridge just downstream, and surrounded by fields. We had tied up just below the lock while we were waiting to set up, and when the time came, we took Tyseley in and unloaded in the lock as it was filling. I think I mentioned the lack of boats as we arrived. There had been no traffic all the time we were moored. But, of course, as soon as we started to unload, 2 boats arrived wanting to come down. They were very patient, and kind too - they even helped us with the unload. Perhaps they weren't quite as patient as they seemed! Unfortunately, they were about the only boats that we saw, so there was still no massed flotilla waiting for the show - and, as we were setting up, the clouds started forming. Which didn't improve moral much. But you have to be brave about these things - and the skittle alley is not really very conducive. So we ploughed on. But with only a few people, no boats, and only half an hour to go it was not looking promising. But by the time we started - the audience was too big to fit on the lockside with us - so they crowded over the bridge and across on the other side of the lock as well! We rapidly adjusted the angle we were playing at in order to keep everyone involved. Anna and Adrian even played one of their scenes on the bridge, a really nice touch, and one of the great things about performing outside in different venues each night. The evening was probably one of the best so far, I think. We all had a great time - even with the pack of the boat afterwards, reversing into the lock in the dark, and loading the boat as the drizzle started! I could have just hauled her in, of course. But where's the fun in that?

Moving at last!

Tyseley is moving again! We left Badsey's this morning, at a leisurely 10am, having been warned that the Admiral Nelson would be full at lunchtime, and there would be little chance of getting a mooring until things had settled down in the afternoon. It took us just over three hours, so I was a bit concerned that we would find it still full as we approached at just past 1pm. But there was only a single, solitary narrow boat tied up below the lock. I have never seen it this empty. I hope it isn't an indication of the audience to come...

Last night, though, would make up for just about anything that happens tonight. We had a packed audience, and the weather, although it turned cold later on, was glorious. The show cracked along, with the support of the crowd, and by the end, we were all in high spirits. It's another example of the joys of this job. And being able to talk to the audience and share those feelings just makes it all the more worthwhile. After the show we said goodbye to the van as it was driven off to Reading by the Wicks, friends who have very kindly agreed to help out with the logistical nightmare that is co-ordinating a van with a boat tour. Thank goodness for Friends of Mikron....

Another fine thing to come out of last night was interest in the plans to repaint Tyseley, which is rapidly becoming my bonnet's current resident bee.

The boating today went very well - considering it was our first proper day out. Everyone had a go on the back. Ruth remembered everything from last year, and didn't seem to have been away from boats for over 6 months at all. Anna and Adrian are both taking to it like ducks to the proverbial. I was the only one to provide any real entertainment. But to be fair, it WAS our bridgehole by a long chalk! We also had our first run in with hire boaters who wanted to fill the empty half of a lock because they were on that side, rather than let us come up it while they used the almost full one on the offside. Oh well...

I have to admit that I had a fantastic time doing the bends, though. It's great to be back on the back of Tyseley again. She is a law unto herself, but I hope that I am starting to understand her... I think it will take a few more years yet. Well - I just have to keep learning. It's always the case with her that just when you think you have sorted out how to handle her in a certain situation, she will go and do something completely unexpected. Much like people, I suppose. We opened her right up on a couple of stretches to blow the cobwebs out. And judging by the exhaust, I think there were several in there. But she seems to be running well, and in good spirits. I hope.

And I have caught the sun. Even though it was cloudy. I will never learn.

Day off...

Well, apart from trying to plan the boat moves, co-ordinate van transfers and phoning venues... Oh well.

But what a fantastic day! I spent the morning helping put up the marquee for tonight's show, and plotting ways to get Tyseley properly sign written. It would be great to see her looking like she ought to again... The marquee itself was sans instructions, as seems to be the law with these things - and, of course, once the poles had been removed from the bags, we were left with a pile of usefully numbered stickers that might have been some help if they had still been attached to anything other than themselves. The only real clue came from the bits that had jammed together the last time it had been erected. And once we had managed to get the frame up - it became apparent that the tarp had decided to shrink. Still - it is up now. And threatening to take off.

The evening was spent round at Tony's house which is just by the lock further up the cut from where we are moored. He has been there ever since he moved off his narrowboat, and has been coming to the shows forever. Ruth and I sat in his incredible garden, drinking wine and listening to music until the wee smalls, and making a fuss over the oldest cat in the world. Well - he was 19, which makes him about 133 in cat years, I'm told. He was a feral kitten who had adopted Tony and his wife, and had lived in their garden and shed his whole life - never once spending a night inside. And now was a real old man - ragged, skin and bones, but very content to be the centre of attention. Anyway - a perfect evening, and one of the reasons that I love this job so much!

This morning brought another treat - a boat passed by with a delivery of cake from another staunch supporter. I will try and save some for Anna and Adrian when they get back from their day off. And they wonder why I stay around....

Cats and Dogs. And gambling thereupon.

Last night we went to the Wharf Inn, Welford. It was a lovely day - as I wrote yesterday - the sun was out. I was happy. We set up in the garden, full of high spirits, and surrounded by kids playing and dogs - well, doing what dogs do. And clearing it up after them. Just as we finished, Anna said to me, "ummm...", and pointed. To an enormous black cloud, with lightening emanating from within it, that was looking at us with a grin from where one ear would be to the other one, if it had them. There ensued about half an hour of ummming and ahhhing, and discussions with Crow - who we see there every year, and can be aged like a tree by the length of his dreadlocks - about the appearance of strom flies and the circling of birds. I decided to unset and go inside - much to the annoyance, although unspoken, of everyone. Just as we finished, it became apparent that the cloud really did have ears, because it cleared above us, and let the sun smirk down again. But it was too late, by now, as we were five minutes late already. So we started. And the pub that had been quiet gradually filled with people, and beer, and noise. And a great deal of heat. From behind the sweat, I glared out of the window at the sun, and cooling breeze. After forty minutes or so, though, I looked out - and the heavens were opening. Which came as somewhat of a relief, as we struggled on inside! But as is often the case, it seemed worse to us - I think the audience finds it easier to block out the background noise than our egos do to accept that we are not the only thing happening in the pub!

Ahh...

This morning I woke up and opened the doors to the boatman's cabin - and was met by a glorious dawn - looking down onto the lock at Hillmorton - with whisps of mist rising from the canal and disappearing into the pink sky. It doesn't get much better, really. Except that you can't really swim here. Never mind - the rivers are still to look forward to!

Last night's show went really well - we had a good crowd, largely due to the wonderful weather, I suppose. And the show went really well. The pint of Harvest Pale was particularly fine too, after! So we were all in high spirits when we got to Badsey's - with much less trouble than we had last year - when we attempted to find a place that we had never seen; in the dark; and with only the words "UNDER RAILWAY BRIDGE ON LEFT" scribbled on the back of a beer mat to guide us. Badsey's is still tricky to find though, so it was a relief to get here without any wrong turns, and unpack our stuff ready for the summer. Ian, who runs Badsey's, arrived a little later, having been out celebrating the sale of a friend's boat. He was a little more amenable than our first meeting last year - we arrived so late, after the beer mat farce, that he was sure that we were breaking into Tyseley! He leaned out the window and gave us what for in no uncertain terms, until he realised who we were. It is great that people look after eachother on the cut. I have been broken into several times whilst living on dry land. In one instance my landlady even offered to help the thieves carry the stuff down the stairs. She thought I was moving out. At 4 in the morning. It was that sort of a house.

Badsey, herself, is an old BW working boat that Ian has fitted out and sleeps in. We weren't allowed to see inside last year. Apparently the jacuzzi wasn't quite finished... She's moored outside the Bistro and very fine she looks too, with her paintwork done last year by Ron Huff (if that's how you spell it) while I looked on last summer. It would be nice to get him to do Tyseley. The poor girl is in desperate need of a bit of TLC. I was out this morning polishing the brasses. But I had to stop after I ran out of Brasso! If anyone knows a less labour intensive way of cleaning VERY dirty brass - please let me know...

And so it begins...

Well - here we are again. I am sitting outside in the garden of the Black Horse in Hose. We have just eaten our fill, and as I sit here typing away, I can hear the sound of the birds calling. And various not quite so natural sounds. Adrian is practising his tap dancing. Anna is playing the keyboard. And Ruth is learning the clarinet. The peace of a Saturday afternoon shattered by an impending Mikron performance!

This feels like the first night proper of the summer tour. We are going to Tyseley tonight - leaving the Swan in the Rushes and Loughborough behind us. The Swan is a great place to stay, but it can't compare with the boat. And what's more the weather is glorious. At the moment. When we were here earlier on in the week, it was teeming down with rain, and bitterly cold. But tonight I am sitting out in my brand new sandals and shorts. Unpleasant for others to see - but a sure sign that the boat tour has begun!

The weather has been a bit of a nightmare so far this summer. Our first night out was at the Foxton Locks Inn. A fantastic venue, and one that I really hope becomes part of our regular schedule again. But the rain was streaming from the skies, and the audience were huddled under blankets against the cold. Possibly not quite as cold as our performance last year by the telegraph museum in the spring tour when we were enveloped in a thick bank of freezing fog that rolled in off the sea as we started - replacing the blue sky with an impenetrable wall that, combined with the lights, meant that we couldn't be sure if anyone beyond the first row of audience was still there. They were, fortunately. Although I think everyone was glad to be able to get inside to the warmth of the pub afterwards. As indeed were we after the Foxton show. Not the best introduction for Anna and Adrian, our two new members, to the joys of a Mikron tour. But I think most of us enjoyed it, really. I certainly don't mind the elements - it is an integral part of the job, coping with the weather, and dealing with the often less than perfect performance conditions.

Well - off to work!

Welcome

So. Three years in, and I am finally able to get off my backside and set up a method of communication with the outside world. Perhaps now it will be possible to dispell the myth that I actually just disappear for six months every year - and keep people up to date with what is going on. The only downsides that I can forsee are that there will be less to talk about in the pub when I eventually do get to meet up with people face to face.