Velcro

Erin Mae's pram hood – the cover over the cruiser stern – was made by Wilson's in 2013. Tom, who sold it to us, was a salesman par excellence, enthusiastic, keen to listen to what we wanted, and willing to throw in various extras on the grounds that our first appointment with them occurred while we were moored outside their front door. Among those extras were the "curtains" – flaps of PVC covering the transparent sections, and fastened down with velcro.

Alas, the ravages of time and weather took their toll, and the velcro no longer secured the windows as once it did. In the words of Keith Wilson when I rang him this week to talk about our plight, they had become "ineffective". But, could he fix it? Yes, he could! There are no doubt people nearer who could have done the job, but we have reason to trust him. Yesterday we drove down to Kinver with the hood in the car, and in a couple of hours he had replaced all the "hook" pieces.

Apparently the loop pieces don't deteriorate – otherwise it would have cost us twice as much. We're very happy with the result, and the cover is back in place keeping the sun off the stern – in the current weather it's infinitely preferable to do maintenance work in the shade.

While Keith was toiling away, we paid a visit to the Kinver Rock Houses.

(photo courtesy of the National Trust)

They are caves in the sandstone which had provided a home to a monastic community, but were later converted to family dwellings, and still in use as such in the 1930s. Now they are owned by the National Trust. We had inspected them thoroughly in 2013, so yesterday's visit was chiefly about relaxing in the shade in an interesting place with a cup of coffee. It was a good day!

Biting the bullet

The bullet in question is the combination of steelwork and paint – I can't think of much else about Erin Mae's adventures that still generates equal measures of trepidation and procrastination in quite this way. But it cannot be denied – her bodywork is not quite what it was in the flush of youth. Part of that is the wear and tear of going through locks, etc. Part of it is the rust that appears for some reason or other. Last of all, it was clear from the start that some of her windows had never been sealed in properly. A few years ago we had three sorted out, but there is clearly more to be done in this area.

So we've taken some decisions. The first was that I should do something. My captain's chair is very comfortable, and the world cup is on, and the weather is exceedingly hot, but the day of excuses is past. The second decision was to paint the gunwales satin black, instead of the green with which Erin Mae was born. They will be far easier to touch up when travel-damage makes its mark. Related to that, the third decision was where the new boundary will come between the black and green parts of the paintwork, and how to achieve that successfully.

So I've started with the first stages of preparation. Fortunately (!) there was a bit of flaking paint and rust in one of the front lockers, so that has got me started with rust converter and primer in a place where bad technique won't be obvious. My first forays into the world of sander, brush and roller have left me encouraged that I really can do something to address the issues.

We shall have to see what Erin Mae thinks about my attempts, come the autumn.

Spectacular days

What with one thing and another, Erin Mae has been left lonely for the last two and a half weeks while we've been in the south – apart from a nice visit on Monday from Chris (NB Wren's Nest) who dropped in to pick up the old set of batteries from where we'd left them on the cruiser stern. Meanwhile we've watched a royal wedding, joined in a thanksgiving service for a former colleague who died of cancer a few weeks ago, and been to Norway to take part in the very happy confirmation celebrations of our oldest grandchild Elissa.

Then it was a waiting game – Daughter-in-law Sarah was due to give birth last Saturday. We thought Erin Mae would understand if we hung around here until our fifth grandchild made his appearance. The warmth and sunshine led to a great barbecue with friends in our garden on Sunday and, yesterday, to a visit to see the roses at the National Trust's Mottisfont Abbey. Wow! It's a special collection of old roses that flower just in June, and they were spectacular!

Bushes and standards and climbers and ramblers. The world and his wife was visiting.

It was while I was still lamenting my technical inability to capture with the camera the full impressions that the eye was getting that the message came through that we'd missed a phone call from the expectant parents. Mottisfont is a pretty dead spot for mobile signals, and we had to take advice and walk a few hundred yards to get in touch. It was great news – though we only got the whole story when home in the evening.

Sarah's labour had started in the early hours. About 7 or 8 a.m. the contractions were getting serious and then the waters broke and Junior started to appear without further ado. While paramedics and a midwife were on their way, Nº 3 Son started helping with delivery on the bathroom floor, one hand holding the phone through which he was getting instructions from someone at 999, and the other stopping the baby's head from coming out too fast! It was relief when the super-competent midwife appeared to manage the final phases and everything turned out well. To the point where Nº 3 Son was able to go and do his gig last night! Well, as the Tesco ad says, every little helps.

So in the last wee while there have been all sorts of celebrations – for a birth, a confirmation, a wedding and for the life of a gracious and gentle man who died too young. We wouldn't have missed any of it.

Never that simple! (Part 2)

Friends who know nothing about narrowboats are often amazed when we describe Erin Mae. They are surprised that we have a shower, a flushing toilet, a proper oven, grill and hob, not to mention a washing machine. When we tell them we have radiators as well as a solid fuel stove they're ready to move in!

The radiators are powered by a small Webasto diesel-burning unit that sits in the engine compartment. We have to use antifreeze / coolant rather than just water in the pipes and radiators, and that was replaced two years ago. I noticed that it needed to be topped up so we dropped into Halfords in Stafford – which was when the fun started. "Which car is it for, sir?" They have their databases and charts and can tell you what you need for a 1987 East European banger or a 2009 Audi, but they somehow didn't include a narrowboat central heating system. I knew enough to know that there are problems with mixing different types of antifreeze, but even that seemed to mean I knew more than the staff serving me.

I rang the boatyard who'd put in the antifreeze and found out what sort it was (Rock Oil Red), then started my research on the web. The Rock Oil website said nothing about antifreeze so I gave them a ring. The receptionist promised to find out all the details and email me a data sheet. I'm still waiting. The Wikipedia article was very informative in a general sense, but of course said nothing about Rock Oil Red. It did say enough to emphasise the dangers of mixing types. Various sites and forums added to my sense of the complexity of the topic, without giving definitive information pointing to what I needed to buy. The blurb on the antifreeze on sale in our marina added little – but it was blue and with a 2-year life expectancy, rather than red with a 5-year life expectancy.

It became clear that the main issue is around the corrosion inhibitors the antifreeze contains. Different types don't play well together. Some last longer than others. The type is colour coded with a small amount of added dye, but the coding is not entirely consistent. In the end I found an online supplier of LandRover spares selling Rock Oil Red for a reasonable price, rang them up, and it should arrive in a couple of days. Meanwhile, my education proceeds apace.

So if you want some interesting info on organic acid corrosion inhibiting technology, just get in touch. Erin Mae probably doesn't know how blessed she is.

Never that simple! (part 1)

When I installed the new engine starter battery on Saturday, I found that the two threaded studs were of different sizes.

The negative terminal had a thread identical to the that on the battery I was removing, but the threaded stud on the positive side was larger. The battery came with two wing nuts, as shown in the photo. I managed to adjust the battery wiring so that there was room to screw the wing nut down tight. However, the terminal at the positive end of the domestic battery bank has a significant number of heavy cables attached to it – and good wiring practice means they'll stay there.

I didn't think it would be easy to connect anything to the threaded stud of that terminal with a wing nut, especially as, on the new batteries, the stud is 90˚ round from its location on the current set. A normal hexagonal nut would be easier to fit, so I had to work out what size it should be. The battery seller's website gave mixed information, with one suggestion being a US 5/16", which is supposed to be the equivalent of the metric M8 size. I took battery and wing nuts to a local hardware store about a mile from the marina, to see what they could do. They certainly were not M8, and an M10 nut, which looked the right size, had the wrong pitch to the thread, and wouldn't screw on.

Grr! I'd really been hoping to install the set today.

I rang up the firm and got an answerphone. Rang back later and got a bloke who didn't know much about anything, except that I ought to ring back on a different number. I did and eventually spoke with a techie who at least knew what I was talking about. He said they it looked as though it was a new arrangement that not even they had been told about, but he promised to send some sets of nuts post haste. Unfortunately, because this had all taken time, post would be less haste, but they should arrive on Wednesday.

Ah, lack-a-day. At least the weather's great!

Starting up

Halfie isn't the only one to replace an engine starter battery –  Erin Mae needed one too. However, it was back in 2011 that I last paid out for starting security, so that seemed reasonable. As my best beloved and I chatted about such things, we decided it we should replace the domestic battery set as well. That had two consequences. Firstly, a financial hit that I think we'll pass over quickly. Secondly, five batteries delivered to our home that needed to be driven to the boat. Not only did they take up considerable space in the car, but their combined weight was the equivalent of having an extremely large front row forward or heavyweight champion in the back seat! The domestic set of four being replaced is still in good working order so I've put them on eBay, if anyone is interested.

So, the season has started, though it's going to be a bit patchy until we can get out cruising in June. For the moment we're stuck in the marina, but we got a nice walk out through Great Haywood this afternoon. The junction was quite busy.

A number of traders catering to the towpath trade were moored close to the junction, one or two in spaces that looked as though they were really for boats waiting to turn. There was a sweetie tuck shop, a café / bar (not sure about the licensing regs there!), an ironmongers, and one or two others. Quite the little high street! Then we walked on towards Haywood lock. The water level must be high, because there was a fair old flow going down the chute at the side, even while the lock was filling. The Trent itself was running fast. We pushed on for a stroll around the grounds of Shugborough, now completely in the hands of the National Trust.

The wisteria was out, but the sun was not, and I'm afraid my photographic skills weren't really up to the task of creating anything memorable.

It's nice to be back on Erin Mae, even if only for a few days. Hopefully, the start of something good.

Coming apart

We managed to pack up Erin Mae on Saturday and head off south in the car mid-afternoon-ish. For some time the car's warning system has been subjecting me to occasional fake news – saying that I need to check the tyre pressures. When the problem started I did. Then I realised it was a faulty sensor system, and I didn't bother any more. So when the warning came on as we approached the big roundabout where the A446 joins the M42, I paid little attention. Half way round, however, the wheels felt rather rumbly, and as we joined the slip road down on to the motorway it was bad enough for me to stop and check. Sure enough, the left rear tyre was in the last phase of going flat.

If you've ever transferred the moveable contents of a narrowboat to a car, to transport them home for the winter, you'll have an idea of how much gear was stowed in the rear of our Focus estate. And where do they keep the spare tyre? Underneath the floor of that compartment! So it all came out on the hard shoulder. Fortunately the lights on the roundabout release the traffic down the slip road in batches that are not going too fast, so there wasn't too much danger as I changed the wheel. Of course, the wheel was one of these slim-profile jobbies that have a maximum speed of 50 mph, so that was the speed at which we completed the remaining 150 miles of the journey, with hazard warning lights flashing for those sections where we thought other drivers might be surprised by a vehicle going so slowly. It was frustrating to find that the service station at half-way where we were hoping for a restorative coffee had a fire alert, and no-one was allowed inside. All the way home without a coffee was something of a first. And the stuff on the radio (all channels) was mostly rubbish (IMHO).

Well, we made it safely without any further alarums, and the weekend was going well. We met up with our friends at church for worship on Sunday, went down to the Toby carvery for lunch, and then Son and Daughter-in-law Nº 3 arrived on their way back from Weymouth, along with Bram.

"Your cupboards need re-arranging, Gran. Don’t worry - I’m on it!"

That was very pleasant and, when they left, we settled down to a light supper – those Toby carveries are very filling. That was the point at which my best beloved felt the tooth/bridge to which the dentist had paid attention a fortnight ago become rather mobile again. These things are not meant to come loose, and this is the second time. But when we rang this morning, they said to come along this afternoon and she would be fitted in somehow. That's what we did, and now the object in question is cemented back in place for the third (and hopefully the last) time of asking.

Which just leaves the tyre to be sorted. They couldn't do that today – short of staff for some reason. But we confidently expect to be capable of more than 50 mph at some time tomorrow. Hopefully that will be the last thing to come apart unexpectedly for a good, long while.