Well, the Good Ship Universe may be thoroughly encased in ice at the moment, but the blog is on the move.
It isn't particularly impressive so far but I'm hoping to be able to create something much better than the current one before too long. The new blog is based on Wordpress rather than Blogger, which is one of the main reasons I'm moving it. I'm (at least slightly) more at home with the way the templates work under Wordpress, plus I'm distinctly suspicious of the great god Google's motives in tracking pretty much everything that moves on the Internet.
You can find the new blog here. It's liable to change its appearance quite dramatically over the coming weeks while I mess around with it, but I'll try to keep it from misbehaving too badly. My apologies if I fall short in even that simple objective.
Monday, 20 December 2010
Thursday, 18 November 2010
A Good Harvest
A few days ago I took a trip over to Stoke Newington in search of Ginkgo seeds. The Ginkgo tree is one that is very common, particularly in the middle of cities, because it is quite hardy and stands up well to the effects of atmospheric pollution. Unfortunately, it has on slight problem, its seeds, which have a distinctive, er, aroma that is a mixture of rancid butter and dog poo.
This means that female trees are something of a rarity and the male trees that are usually planted in cities are mostly clones of a small number of individuals. So, even though the tree is very common, it is actually an endangered species because so few trees grow from seed.
I haven’t counted them but I understand that there are 26 trees in one small corner of Stoke Newington, around the edge of a small council estate. Several of these are females, and they produce seed around November each year.
Ginkgo trees in Stoke Newington
I collected a sizeable jar full of seeds and found it strangely enjoyable carrying them home on the bus. I could see everyone looking around, trying to work out where the smell was coming from. Some even checked the bottoms of their shoes. After I got home, though, I found I’d got bits of the fruit stuck in my hair so the smell wouldn’t go away even though I’d left the seeds outside – serves me right, I suppose.
Freshly collected fruit
The seeds generally germinate quite well but they have to be prepared properly. First, the fleshy part of the fruit has to be washed off. This job is best done with gloves on, as the flesh reputedly causes dermatitis in some people (although I’ve never had any problem myself).
The seeds after cleaning
Once all the smelly goo has been washed off, the seeds have to be sanded to make the outer case more permeable to allow water to reach the seed inside. I’ve never been sure exactly how to do this, but I’ve always just rubbed away at one spot to make a small hole, hopefully without damaging the softer parts inside. After this, they need to be soaked in water overnight to allow them to absorb some water and soften a bit. Any seeds that are floating on the water after this aren’t viable, so a few were weeded out. I think I ended up with about 135 seeds, which should be plenty to produce a decent crop of seedlings in the spring.
Small holes made in the outer skin
After that, they have to be kept in a fridge for at least two months so that they know it’s winter. Some people say they should be packed in moss or sand, but I just put them in a bag last time and I had a pretty reasonable germination rate. Not having a fridge on the good ship Universe, I‘ll put this year’s crop in the gas locker although, given the current temperature on the boat, I think they’ll get the idea no matter where I leave them. Brrr!
I’ll post a progress report once they’ve started growing. In the meantime, there’s a mine of information about ginkgo trees at the Ginkgo Pages.
This means that female trees are something of a rarity and the male trees that are usually planted in cities are mostly clones of a small number of individuals. So, even though the tree is very common, it is actually an endangered species because so few trees grow from seed.
I haven’t counted them but I understand that there are 26 trees in one small corner of Stoke Newington, around the edge of a small council estate. Several of these are females, and they produce seed around November each year.
I collected a sizeable jar full of seeds and found it strangely enjoyable carrying them home on the bus. I could see everyone looking around, trying to work out where the smell was coming from. Some even checked the bottoms of their shoes. After I got home, though, I found I’d got bits of the fruit stuck in my hair so the smell wouldn’t go away even though I’d left the seeds outside – serves me right, I suppose.
The seeds generally germinate quite well but they have to be prepared properly. First, the fleshy part of the fruit has to be washed off. This job is best done with gloves on, as the flesh reputedly causes dermatitis in some people (although I’ve never had any problem myself).
Once all the smelly goo has been washed off, the seeds have to be sanded to make the outer case more permeable to allow water to reach the seed inside. I’ve never been sure exactly how to do this, but I’ve always just rubbed away at one spot to make a small hole, hopefully without damaging the softer parts inside. After this, they need to be soaked in water overnight to allow them to absorb some water and soften a bit. Any seeds that are floating on the water after this aren’t viable, so a few were weeded out. I think I ended up with about 135 seeds, which should be plenty to produce a decent crop of seedlings in the spring.
After that, they have to be kept in a fridge for at least two months so that they know it’s winter. Some people say they should be packed in moss or sand, but I just put them in a bag last time and I had a pretty reasonable germination rate. Not having a fridge on the good ship Universe, I‘ll put this year’s crop in the gas locker although, given the current temperature on the boat, I think they’ll get the idea no matter where I leave them. Brrr!
I’ll post a progress report once they’ve started growing. In the meantime, there’s a mine of information about ginkgo trees at the Ginkgo Pages.
Monday, 1 November 2010
Poisonous Pallets
I feel as if I’ve spent about a month collecting and chopping up pallets. I haven’t a clue how much firewood I’m going to need, so I’ve probably erred on the side of caution (I hope I have!). I must have collected at least 30 of the things, most of which came from one firm in Harlesden.
At one time, the roof was piled four pallets high along its entire length, and I had to stay put until I’d chopped enough of them up to allow me to see where I was going. While I was doing this, a woman cycling along the towpath stopped and asked me whether it was ok to burn pallets. She was under the impression that they were treated with something nasty that makes them give off poisonous fumes. I didn’t know whether she was right or wrong but I thought I’d better check.
What I found out is that pallets have to be treated to ensure that they cannot carry insects or plant diseases to other countries. Usually this involves heat treatment but some pallets, mostly from the USA, have been treated with a chemical called bromomethane, also known as methyl bromide. This is a seriously nasty chemical that damages various parts of the body, may be carcinogenic and attacks the ozone layer for good measure. Apparently it has now been phased out, but some pallets are still in use. My haul included only one such pallet, and I was able to weed it out before it found its way on to the fire (but after I’d spent a fair amount of time chopping it up).
Fortunately, they are usually quite easy to spot. Pallets from outside Europe have a stamp on them that describes how they have been treated. The stamp usually looks something like this:
The logo on the left is made up of the letters IPPC, which stands for International Plant Protection Convention, and HT means that it has been heat treated. Pallets that have been fumigated with methyl bromide will have MB instead. The one I found was clearly labelled, but not in a position where it was easy to spot. Not all countries use this exact stamp, but all those from outside Europe should have either HT or MB stamped on them.
I don't know whether this is news to anyone. I certainly wasn't aware of it until recently, so I hope this is useful to anyone thinking of using pallets as part of their firewood supply.
At one time, the roof was piled four pallets high along its entire length, and I had to stay put until I’d chopped enough of them up to allow me to see where I was going. While I was doing this, a woman cycling along the towpath stopped and asked me whether it was ok to burn pallets. She was under the impression that they were treated with something nasty that makes them give off poisonous fumes. I didn’t know whether she was right or wrong but I thought I’d better check.
What I found out is that pallets have to be treated to ensure that they cannot carry insects or plant diseases to other countries. Usually this involves heat treatment but some pallets, mostly from the USA, have been treated with a chemical called bromomethane, also known as methyl bromide. This is a seriously nasty chemical that damages various parts of the body, may be carcinogenic and attacks the ozone layer for good measure. Apparently it has now been phased out, but some pallets are still in use. My haul included only one such pallet, and I was able to weed it out before it found its way on to the fire (but after I’d spent a fair amount of time chopping it up).
Fortunately, they are usually quite easy to spot. Pallets from outside Europe have a stamp on them that describes how they have been treated. The stamp usually looks something like this:
The logo on the left is made up of the letters IPPC, which stands for International Plant Protection Convention, and HT means that it has been heat treated. Pallets that have been fumigated with methyl bromide will have MB instead. The one I found was clearly labelled, but not in a position where it was easy to spot. Not all countries use this exact stamp, but all those from outside Europe should have either HT or MB stamped on them.
I don't know whether this is news to anyone. I certainly wasn't aware of it until recently, so I hope this is useful to anyone thinking of using pallets as part of their firewood supply.
Friday, 8 October 2010
Thank You!
I haven’t posted so much on the blog recently. Ever since I arrived back in London, a lot of the boaty fun stuff I wanted to get on with has been held up by a seemingly endless stream of comparatively minor interruptions.
One of these was that I discovered recently that none of my mail was being redirected as it should have been. It took about a week to find out that it had all been delivered to my old address and to collect it from the various people who had it.
Amongst the mail was a card from London Underground, telling me that something belonging to me had been handed in. I knew immediately that it must have been a wallet that went missing about a month ago. I’d cancelled the bank cards, library cards etc., but I was more concerned about losing my driving licence (I didn’t think there was any money in it, so that wasn’t really a worry).
When I went to collect it, though, I was told that it had £20 in it, plus €28, which I had completely forgotten about. If the person who found it had taken the money, or even just the sterling, I would have been none the wiser and would still have been relieved to have got it back. That they didn’t take the money was a really reassuring reminder of the honesty of random people. Whoever found it could very easily have taken the money, sold the driving licence or just thrown it way, but they didn’t. So, whoever you are, kind stranger, thank you very much!
One of these was that I discovered recently that none of my mail was being redirected as it should have been. It took about a week to find out that it had all been delivered to my old address and to collect it from the various people who had it.
Amongst the mail was a card from London Underground, telling me that something belonging to me had been handed in. I knew immediately that it must have been a wallet that went missing about a month ago. I’d cancelled the bank cards, library cards etc., but I was more concerned about losing my driving licence (I didn’t think there was any money in it, so that wasn’t really a worry).
When I went to collect it, though, I was told that it had £20 in it, plus €28, which I had completely forgotten about. If the person who found it had taken the money, or even just the sterling, I would have been none the wiser and would still have been relieved to have got it back. That they didn’t take the money was a really reassuring reminder of the honesty of random people. Whoever found it could very easily have taken the money, sold the driving licence or just thrown it way, but they didn’t. So, whoever you are, kind stranger, thank you very much!
Friday, 1 October 2010
Racist Filth?
A couple of days ago I bumped into our local PCSO, who advised me to make sure I locked my boat up if I was going to leave it unattended. Apparently there have been a number of break-ins around here, the most recent being a couple of weeks ago.
Clearly, the culprits haven’t been caught (otherwise there’d be no need for the warning), but he told me that they were eastern Europeans – “the sort who kill swans”. I’ve no idea how he knows this – until they catch the thieves, they won’t find out their nationality. This sounds just like spreading racist nonsense. He told me in the most minute detail how these people operate, but he still hasn’t managed to identify them – all he knows is that they are foreigners with repugnant dietary habits.
I’ve seen lots of eastern Europeans around this area, many of them street drinkers, and that they have all been perfectly pleasant. Some were even having a barbecue on the towpath and offered me and my friend a sausage (not sure if they were swan sausages…). I haven’t seen them, but the PCSO told me there are some homeless people living in the bushes right next to where I’m moored at the moment. Apparently, these people are well known to the police and work in one of the local factories. It isn’t easy for homeless people to find work, so they must be extremely resourceful and determined people, and whatever difficulties have led to their current plight are hardly helped by having the forces of law and order making them out to be criminals.
The only problem I’ve had at all in recent weeks was at Sainsburys in Alperton, where the kids in the slums next door regularly threw stones from the balcony at shoppers and boaters alike (I was wondering why there was always plenty of room to moor there). The Plod told me there’s no point in calling the police, as there’s nothing they can do about it. I imagine they simply haven’t got the resources- they’re all too busy harassing homeless foreigners.
Actually, I have had a certain amount of trouble from immigrants lately – it’s the Canadians. Yes, those damned geese have barely given me a minute’s peace ever since they discovered that I got HobNobs! (Actually, I’ve discovered that they have just about the best table manners of any water birds I’ve seen. They are the only ones that understand the idea of taking turns instead of fighting each other for every single piece).
I simply don’t understand racism – even when I try to find one, I can’t find a legitimate reason to hate foreigners simply for being foreign. Perhaps someone who does might be able to enlighten me…
Clearly, the culprits haven’t been caught (otherwise there’d be no need for the warning), but he told me that they were eastern Europeans – “the sort who kill swans”. I’ve no idea how he knows this – until they catch the thieves, they won’t find out their nationality. This sounds just like spreading racist nonsense. He told me in the most minute detail how these people operate, but he still hasn’t managed to identify them – all he knows is that they are foreigners with repugnant dietary habits.
I’ve seen lots of eastern Europeans around this area, many of them street drinkers, and that they have all been perfectly pleasant. Some were even having a barbecue on the towpath and offered me and my friend a sausage (not sure if they were swan sausages…). I haven’t seen them, but the PCSO told me there are some homeless people living in the bushes right next to where I’m moored at the moment. Apparently, these people are well known to the police and work in one of the local factories. It isn’t easy for homeless people to find work, so they must be extremely resourceful and determined people, and whatever difficulties have led to their current plight are hardly helped by having the forces of law and order making them out to be criminals.
The only problem I’ve had at all in recent weeks was at Sainsburys in Alperton, where the kids in the slums next door regularly threw stones from the balcony at shoppers and boaters alike (I was wondering why there was always plenty of room to moor there). The Plod told me there’s no point in calling the police, as there’s nothing they can do about it. I imagine they simply haven’t got the resources- they’re all too busy harassing homeless foreigners.
Actually, I have had a certain amount of trouble from immigrants lately – it’s the Canadians. Yes, those damned geese have barely given me a minute’s peace ever since they discovered that I got HobNobs! (Actually, I’ve discovered that they have just about the best table manners of any water birds I’ve seen. They are the only ones that understand the idea of taking turns instead of fighting each other for every single piece).
I simply don’t understand racism – even when I try to find one, I can’t find a legitimate reason to hate foreigners simply for being foreign. Perhaps someone who does might be able to enlighten me…
Thursday, 16 September 2010
Angel Canal Festival
Well, better late than never…
Yes, it’s September again, and that means it’s time for the annual trek across London, braving the public transport “improvements” on the first Sunday morning to get to the Angel Canal Festival. I usually spend the morning setting up stalls in the streets around City Road Basin, but this year apparently I was to be part of the team that was to set up the “portable belfry” – a new addition for this year.
It turned out that this:
is a portable belfry, and putting it up was great fun – a load of overgrown kids getting to play with similarly oversize Meccano. Rather than describe in detail how it’s done, I’ll just include a link to the people who apparently spend all their time lugging portable belfries across the country. Getting the bells in place was far more entertaining than it appears in the pictures, as we had to manhandle them out of the trailer and up a flight of stairs, then lift them into place using a winch – yet more mechanised fun – yay! In fact it was so much fun that we all hung around until the festival had finished to play with the Meccano again.
During the afternoon I spent an hour or so wandering around the streets picking up litter. Despite my serious antipathy towards the whole idea of working for a living, I actually enjoy doing some of the more mundane (and often unpleasant) jobs on offer when it's for free. However, I'm well aware what a luxury it is to be able to pick and choose what work I do, and how much. Most of the people who do jobs like this do so because they have no alternative, and are paid pitifully for their efforts.
This is quite an unusual canal festival in that remarkably little of it actually involves the canal. Rather, it is set in the streets around the canal. When I first came to this festival, a couple of years ago, I found that slightly disappointing, but this year I was talking to someone from one of the property developers in the area and he told me how close the City Road basin came to being filled in to make room for more up-market waterfront developments. To my eye, it’s bad enough as it is (somewhat imaginative picture from developers’ site here) but I suppose that in the middle of a city there has to be a certain amount of give and take.
So it’s probably rather good that the canal can make its presence felt among the wider community, and good that people from outside the boating fraternity can be drawn in by the diverse array of entertainments on offer. I was limited to taking photos on the telling bone so the picture quality is even worse than usual, but this year’s delights included:
Pearly kings/queens/assorted pearly royalty
Ukulele orchestra
Plus displays from beekeepers and the hawk and owl sanctuary – all in all, a pretty enjoyable day out for everyone.
Yes, it’s September again, and that means it’s time for the annual trek across London, braving the public transport “improvements” on the first Sunday morning to get to the Angel Canal Festival. I usually spend the morning setting up stalls in the streets around City Road Basin, but this year apparently I was to be part of the team that was to set up the “portable belfry” – a new addition for this year.
It turned out that this:
is a portable belfry, and putting it up was great fun – a load of overgrown kids getting to play with similarly oversize Meccano. Rather than describe in detail how it’s done, I’ll just include a link to the people who apparently spend all their time lugging portable belfries across the country. Getting the bells in place was far more entertaining than it appears in the pictures, as we had to manhandle them out of the trailer and up a flight of stairs, then lift them into place using a winch – yet more mechanised fun – yay! In fact it was so much fun that we all hung around until the festival had finished to play with the Meccano again.
During the afternoon I spent an hour or so wandering around the streets picking up litter. Despite my serious antipathy towards the whole idea of working for a living, I actually enjoy doing some of the more mundane (and often unpleasant) jobs on offer when it's for free. However, I'm well aware what a luxury it is to be able to pick and choose what work I do, and how much. Most of the people who do jobs like this do so because they have no alternative, and are paid pitifully for their efforts.
This is quite an unusual canal festival in that remarkably little of it actually involves the canal. Rather, it is set in the streets around the canal. When I first came to this festival, a couple of years ago, I found that slightly disappointing, but this year I was talking to someone from one of the property developers in the area and he told me how close the City Road basin came to being filled in to make room for more up-market waterfront developments. To my eye, it’s bad enough as it is (somewhat imaginative picture from developers’ site here) but I suppose that in the middle of a city there has to be a certain amount of give and take.
So it’s probably rather good that the canal can make its presence felt among the wider community, and good that people from outside the boating fraternity can be drawn in by the diverse array of entertainments on offer. I was limited to taking photos on the telling bone so the picture quality is even worse than usual, but this year’s delights included:
Pearly kings/queens/assorted pearly royalty
Ukulele orchestra
Plus displays from beekeepers and the hawk and owl sanctuary – all in all, a pretty enjoyable day out for everyone.
Saturday, 4 September 2010
The Big City
Well, that’s it – I’ve finally arrived in the big city. Not physically – I’ve been here in Greenford since Wednesday, and I got the boat through the last lock this side of Camden over a week before that. But I woke up this morning with the distinct feeling of having finally completed the journey.
Just like a Tom and Jerry cartoon, it was as if I was being extruded through the keyhole of the door to the city, having to inflate myself back to normal size so that I could pull my head through the gap with a suitable slurpy-poppy sound effect.
The process of arriving probably began in Leighton Buzzard, where I introduced myself to the crew of Angel II, from Islington. This was the first time I can definitely recall meeting people who, despite being out in the sticks, gave the impression of actually being city people at heart. It was difficult to pin down the exact nature of this, but it felt as if they had an agenda, a schedule, somewhere they needed to be and a deadline within which it all had to be achieved.
Over the past twenty-odd years, I have come to hate the city – I hate what it does to people. It is as if every activity is a time trial, to be completed against the clock for fear of being late for the following challenge, resulting in an avalanche of missed appointments and ultimate chaos. I’ve yet to see any reward for this form of behaviour, other than the mere absence of failure. I’m even writing this in a hurry, so that I can get everything done at home in time to go out tonight early enough to get back for an early start in the morning. Aaaaagh – it’s got me!!
Still, with any luck, I should be able to write something that’s actually boaty, maybe even about the good ship Universe, before too long…
Just like a Tom and Jerry cartoon, it was as if I was being extruded through the keyhole of the door to the city, having to inflate myself back to normal size so that I could pull my head through the gap with a suitable slurpy-poppy sound effect.
The process of arriving probably began in Leighton Buzzard, where I introduced myself to the crew of Angel II, from Islington. This was the first time I can definitely recall meeting people who, despite being out in the sticks, gave the impression of actually being city people at heart. It was difficult to pin down the exact nature of this, but it felt as if they had an agenda, a schedule, somewhere they needed to be and a deadline within which it all had to be achieved.
Over the past twenty-odd years, I have come to hate the city – I hate what it does to people. It is as if every activity is a time trial, to be completed against the clock for fear of being late for the following challenge, resulting in an avalanche of missed appointments and ultimate chaos. I’ve yet to see any reward for this form of behaviour, other than the mere absence of failure. I’m even writing this in a hurry, so that I can get everything done at home in time to go out tonight early enough to get back for an early start in the morning. Aaaaagh – it’s got me!!
Still, with any luck, I should be able to write something that’s actually boaty, maybe even about the good ship Universe, before too long…
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