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!