The Last Post

 On the morning of Valentine's Day I knelt by the side of my best beloved, held her hand, read a Psalm or two and prayed with her. And she slipped gently away into the arms of her Saviour.

She'd become increasingly frail over the last year. Her mild dementia occasionally made her puzzled about this and that, and her decreasing mobility made it more difficult to do some of the things she enjoyed. But she remained cheerful as ever, and her smile would still light up her face, and the room, and she was so appreciative of other people and what was done for her.

She'd caught the flu in January, and though most symptoms were minimal, it took away the strength in her legs. We moved a bed downstairs, and various social services and NHS teams got involved – they were brilliant. On 14th February she told one of the carers who was helping her get up that she'd slept like a log. But 5 or 10 minutes later she had a bit of an episode that led to her becoming unconscious. A Frailty Team nurse arrived at that moment, did a quick assessment, instigated CPR and rang 999. Paramedics came quickly, but it was to no avail.

We had nearly 53 years together, and from 2011 to 2023 had enjoyed adventuring on the canals on Erin Mae. That was a very special period, chronicled in this blog. I am more grateful to God than I can properly say for all that she meant to me. But I am also grateful that the Lord took her as and when he did, sparing her further pain and indignity.

The committal is this Saturday, in a woodland burial ground near us. Then, at 11.30, we shall gather in our church for a Thanksgiving Service. And we shall do just that – give thanks to God for her. We're doing a live stream of the service for those who wanted to be there, but couldn't be. So if anyone at all is reading this post, you'd be more than welcome to join us on line as well:

https://youtube.com/live/ltr1If27FcA?feature=share.

The last enemy to be destroyed is death

(1 Corinthians 15:26)

He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.

(Revelation 21:4) 

Phases

 In the end, selling Erin Mae is about phases of life. And we have no reason to complain. In April my best beloved and I celebrated 50 years of marriage. So a couple of weekends ago we had a family weekend to mark the Golden Wedding Anniversary, for which we rented a house in Lyme Regis.

The grounds were big enough for fun and games.

There was lots of good food.

And different things to do when it was wet outside.

The Cornish crew were there, the Londoners had done most of the organising, and the Norwegians had all flown across. There was quite a bit of swimming and body-surfing, 

the consumption of several large portions of fish and chips, and lots of music. Being all together doesn't happen a lot, and we all loved it.

We were presented by the youngest members with a rather special can of baked beans!

Martin & Margaret, it read. Established 1973. It's bean 50 years. Rich in love and community.

Amen to that! It's been a good 50 years. And a fantastic weekend!

Farewell

Well, the time has come. Erin Mae has given us 12 years of boating experiences – intriguing moments, fascinating people, scary incidents. But the time has come – time to acknowledge that we cannot do all that we could, and cannot really keep up with the necessary maintenance. So the time has come to sell.

But we had a problem. At the end of our cruising last year we came to light a fire in our Squirrel solid fuel stove, and found it had half an inch of water inside, which had rusted some of the internal pieces. It was in the summer of 2021 that Streethay Wharf had fitted a new chimney, and clearly something had leaked. I didn't want to put the boat up for sale with a dodgy flue. When I contacted Streethay earlier this year, they suggested I bring the boat down for them to look at. Unfortunately, that was 13 locks away, and locks are currently a bit tricky.

Enter our friend Phil. When we were having coffee with him and his wife a couple of months ago, he volunteered to learn windlass skills, and it was all fixed up. He came up on Monday, took us down the Atherstone flight on Tuesday, and accompanied us to Streethay on Wednesday and Thursday morning.

He naturally enjoyed a cuppa on the towpath, and recorded his new experiences in time-honoured fashion.

We couldn't have done the trip without him – you're a star, Phil!

So, today, Streethay looked at the flue, drew some conclusions about how water had managed to ingress, and set about sealing it up. The biggest surprise was the person who came to do the work. It was our friend Ant who, with Emma his wife and Domino the not-so-much-a-puppy-now, have the berth next to ours at Mancetter marina. He was a help to us in various ways over the last two years, but it was extraordinary to see him arriving with tools in hand!

He sealed the chimney, and he sealed the flue around the stove, and then he set to work fixing the rear hatch which has been sticking. Great job, Ant – and great to see you again, albeit probably for the last time.

Because the end of the tale is that Erin Mae is up for sale, and we're sorting out the contract with the brokerage at Kings Orchard marina, just a quarter of a mile from Streethay. We've berthed her there for the night, and tomorrow will hopefully conclude all the paperwork.

It's been a wonderful adventure, for which we are grateful to God. And if anyone fancies a 16 year-old Aqualine Madison…

Bridge 27

It's a typical Coventry Canal Bridge, looking very pleasant and idyllic in the evening light.

We'd been moored up for a day about 150 yards the far side of the bridge. I'd been wanting to paint under the left-hand bedroom window frame. The towpath being on that side made this an ideal spot to take the window out and get on with this job that is about 6 years overdue.

The problem was how the painting (numerous coats, a day between each) and its requirement for a left-side towpath would fit with other demands for travelling, such as the need to fill the water tank – knowing what we do about the availability of water on the next stretch of our journey. We decided that, before moving on, we should reverse back through the bridge and fill the tank at Springwood Haven Marina (in the right in the picture). No time like the present, especially as the wind was more gentle than was promised for the following morning.

Now narrowboats are not made for going backwards – they need a certain amount of cajoling. But I have to say that Erin Mae and I get on pretty well with this manoeuvre when necessary. I brought her back round the bend, avoiding the other moored boats, and lined up everything to come through the bridge hole.

Ah, the perils of reversing under a bridge! That's where all the rubbish tends to accumulate, and a reversing propellor just sucks it up. Suddenly there were horrendous noises, and the exhaust started to belch black smoke under the strain. I put the gear into neutral, experimented with what control I still had, and managed to moor up on the marina wharf. No one was around – it was about 7 p.m.

Ever since our first trip through Manchester I've become accustomed to clearing the prop of collected rubbish, so I lifted one of the boards at the stern to access the weed hatch.

It's straightforward – you release the restraining bar, lift off the lid, and prepare yourself mentally for whatever your fingers will encounter as you reach down into the murky depths towards the propellor. I've done it many times.

But this time the lid wouldn't budge. I pushed and pulled, hammered and banged – all to no avail. I think that Rose Narrowboats, doing an excellent engine service last year, had replaced the seal, and it was firmly stuck. In the end we tied up for the night and set the alarm to get us up before the marina staff arrived in the morning.

Springwood Haven people are some of the most helpful you could encounter. I explained our predicament and, much sooner than expected, George came down to see what he could do. He's more beefy than I, but not even he could get the lid off without some serious help from a cold chisel, a screwdriver (ouch!) and a club hammer. Then, at last, I could untangle the offending mixture of bungee, fishing line, weeds, plastic bags and unmentionables. 

Note to self: when reversing under a bridge, line it up and then go into neutral while actually traversing it.

Hinckley museum

When we were up the Ashby Canal last year, we caught the bus into Hinckley town centre to see the museum.

Unfortunately, I hadn't read the website properly – we'd gone on a day when it wasn't open. So this time we double-checked and, last Saturday, finally got inside. Downstairs there are a couple of rooms celebrating Hinckley's past as a centre of the hosiery industry. Socks, stockings, etc – hose. One room was set up with a big knitting loom as it would have been for the cottage industry. Another had examples of the machines they later invented to automate the processes. 

Hard enough to see how they worked, and staggering to think that, in past centuries, they had conceived how to perform the complex mechanical processes to knit the yarn, and then designed and constructed all the parts for the machines, without CAD software to help.

Upstairs, the old timbers of this 17th century building are splendid, and the exhibits cover some of the social history of the area, especially the local tradition of "Non-conformism".

All in all, well worth a visit if you're cruising that way. But check the website for opening days!

Cross pylons

What do you do when two marching lines of pylons cross each other?

You design a small one, and drop one set of cables underneath the other.

In fact, although it doesn't show properly here, there is a small pylon each side of the taller one, with a set of cables going to each, to create a diamond shape around the tall one. I imagine that's to balance out the sideways tension caused by the diversion.

Hinckley Jubilee

What with the shallowness of the canals and stopping to fill Erin Mae's water tank, it took us a good long time to get to Hinckley yesterday, but we made it. We got the bus into town in the afternoon, and found our way to Hollycroft Park for a "Proms in the Park" event. The queue stretching down to the gate 45 minutes before they opened it illustrates something of the support there was.

An estimated 2000 people were there – families, picnics, free eco-friendly flags in abundance.

Music was provided by Leicester's Bardi Wind Orchestra. It was an excellent programme of light classics, orchestrated Beatles & Abba, some vocal classics, Vera Lynn and some last night of the proms standards, accompanied by much flag waving and the slightly self-mocking jingoism that characterises that occasion. No pictures of the orchestra, I'm afraid. The ones I took are appalling!

No evening buses on this bank holiday, but we managed to get a taxi back to the canal for not too many pennies. All in all, it was a very enjoyable way to celebrate the Jubilee. Whatever you think about monarchy as an institution, she is one remarkable lady. And my mum approved of her!