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!
Friday, 8 October 2010
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…
Monday, 23 August 2010
Old Friends, New Friends
Over the past few days I’ve finally stopped dithering and decided that I’m heading towards London with some sense of urgency, and actually made what, for me at any rate, is a surprising amount of progress at long last.
After my parents left, somewhat abruptly, I was able to get away from Milton Keynes and on towards Leighton Buzzard. I met Carrie again on the way, and we shared the last few locks into town. She was gracious enough to describe my ham-fisted efforts as “help”, when perhaps “better than nothing” would have been a more appropriate description (I can do most things, but I’m really still getting the hang of this boating business, and there’s virtually nothing that comes as second nature so far).
Our paths had crossed a few times in recent weeks and it was with a degree of regret that I left Leighton Buzzard, knowing that it was not likely to happen again, certainly for several months. Still, this is all part and parcel of life as abridge-hopping overstayer CCer. Old friends are left behind and new ones are created, seemingly by a haphazard process of magical randomness.
Such as Dave, who I met almost immediately after leaving Leighton Buzzard. I’d spoken to him on the towpath on Friday as he was out walking his dog, since when we’ve shared around 34 locks and about four bottles of wine. Dave is also single-handed and one thing I’ve learned over these past few days is how nice it is to share locks with another single-handed boater. I’d never done this before (like most things on a boat) and it’s refreshing to know that the other person has an understanding of what is involved in working a lock unaided.
Dave is going to Rickmansworth which, weather permitting, we might possibly get to today. That would put London within reach tomorrow. Reaching London means catching up with old friends I haven’t seen for months. No doubt there’ll be an endless procession of visitors to the boat, all asking the same questions. Of course, there will be the inevitable trips up the canal to the pub. Maybe I’ll even get some work done too.
Eventually I’m sure I’ll tire of all this and it will be time to move on to pastures new, where I’m sure I’ll be meeting up with some of the old friends I won’t have seen for a while.
I could get to enjoy this.
After my parents left, somewhat abruptly, I was able to get away from Milton Keynes and on towards Leighton Buzzard. I met Carrie again on the way, and we shared the last few locks into town. She was gracious enough to describe my ham-fisted efforts as “help”, when perhaps “better than nothing” would have been a more appropriate description (I can do most things, but I’m really still getting the hang of this boating business, and there’s virtually nothing that comes as second nature so far).
Our paths had crossed a few times in recent weeks and it was with a degree of regret that I left Leighton Buzzard, knowing that it was not likely to happen again, certainly for several months. Still, this is all part and parcel of life as a
Such as Dave, who I met almost immediately after leaving Leighton Buzzard. I’d spoken to him on the towpath on Friday as he was out walking his dog, since when we’ve shared around 34 locks and about four bottles of wine. Dave is also single-handed and one thing I’ve learned over these past few days is how nice it is to share locks with another single-handed boater. I’d never done this before (like most things on a boat) and it’s refreshing to know that the other person has an understanding of what is involved in working a lock unaided.
Dave is going to Rickmansworth which, weather permitting, we might possibly get to today. That would put London within reach tomorrow. Reaching London means catching up with old friends I haven’t seen for months. No doubt there’ll be an endless procession of visitors to the boat, all asking the same questions. Of course, there will be the inevitable trips up the canal to the pub. Maybe I’ll even get some work done too.
Eventually I’m sure I’ll tire of all this and it will be time to move on to pastures new, where I’m sure I’ll be meeting up with some of the old friends I won’t have seen for a while.
I could get to enjoy this.
Sunday, 15 August 2010
Celebration Day
Apparently, today is VJ Day, a time when some people celebrate the bombing of the Japanese people into submission 65 years ago.
Well, I’d like to celebrate something too. By way of contrast with the horrible mutilation of what was clearly once a magnificent oak tree in the middle of a Milton Keynes shopping centre as part of the Mother McNatureTM display in my last post, here is an example of how it is possible for trees to be treated with dignity, even in the middle of an urban landscape.
Six Ginkgo trees that were close to the hypocentre of the bomb blast in Hiroshima in 1945 nevertheless began to grow new buds afterwards and the buildings surrounding them have been rebuilt around the trees, allowing them to grow unhindered by the developments around them.
These trees were no part of anybody’s war, they simply carried on living their lives regardless of what evil they were subjected to. For that, they serve as an example to us all and deserve our respect.
Well, I’d like to celebrate something too. By way of contrast with the horrible mutilation of what was clearly once a magnificent oak tree in the middle of a Milton Keynes shopping centre as part of the Mother McNatureTM display in my last post, here is an example of how it is possible for trees to be treated with dignity, even in the middle of an urban landscape.
Six Ginkgo trees that were close to the hypocentre of the bomb blast in Hiroshima in 1945 nevertheless began to grow new buds afterwards and the buildings surrounding them have been rebuilt around the trees, allowing them to grow unhindered by the developments around them.
These trees were no part of anybody’s war, they simply carried on living their lives regardless of what evil they were subjected to. For that, they serve as an example to us all and deserve our respect.
Saturday, 14 August 2010
Irony
Or not. It's so hard to tell sometimes.
The information board accompanying this abomination said:
"Created in 1978 by artist Liz Leyh, the cows were once cynically said to symbolise a new town consisting entirely of concrete. The reality, of course, is very different..."
The information board accompanying this abomination said:
"Created in 1978 by artist Liz Leyh, the cows were once cynically said to symbolise a new town consisting entirely of concrete. The reality, of course, is very different..."
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