Pump-out

We were in Market Drayton about five years ago, when we first looked at the possibility of owning a narrowboat. There was a canal festival that weekend so, for us, the town has conjured memories of fender-makers and Morris Men, of leather-workers and water-jug-painters, and of the scarecrows that were part of a competition for the children.

Today we stopped in Market Drayton for a DIY pump-out and so (as with Wolverhampton – see Saturday's post) its associations have changed for ever! Getting a bit close to your own bodily waste is just one of those things about boating, but this was the first time I'd done Erin Mae's pump-out myself – one more "first" to chalk up. I'd been walking down the tow-path to investigate prices, when I encountered Mike and Diane (NB Epitome Two) whom we know from Great Haywood. Mike sold me a British Waterways pre-payment card that worked the BW pump-out machine – a lot cheaper than the average boatyard or marina would charge. Result! I suspect that, the older you get, the shorter the interval between pump-outs (or should that be pumps-out?).

Sunshine, Shroppie, seeds and silence

What a difference the sun makes – the first warm day of May. The Shrophire Union canal (the Shroppie) glides its way north-west through a rural landscape, interrupted by the occasional village. The air is full of gently blown seeds, birdsong and … nothing. Absolute silence as we had our usual soup and bread lunch. Tonight we've moored up on the edge of Knighton Wood, with a ploughed field through the hedge on one side, and the brilliant yellow of a field of rape on the other. As last night, the mobile has no signal. The birds are the only thing to be heard.

The day held its usual mix of contacts, of course. Helpful people at Norbury Junction to advise on a slipped fender and sell us some diesel and some solid fuel for the fire (the evenings are chilly). A couple with a pram hood cover on their cruiser stern to chat about the pros and cons of getting one for Erin Mae. A wave from those coming the other way and a greeting exchanged with the fishermen and the moored liveaboards. But very little moving traffic.

In fact, perfect conditions for listening to Test Match Special as England put the first one to bed.

Wolverhampton

Wolverhampton has mixed associations for me. In 1958, and again in 1959, Wolves were the English football league champions and as such were the first football team of which I was aware (apart from Ivanhoe who played in the park opposite our house). My friend Dave is still an ardent Wolves fan, but I was never any good at supporting a team that way, though I've retained a soft spot for this one. Later I began to think of Wolverhampton as simply part of the amorphous industrial spread of the Midlands, and close enough to the horror that is the M5/M6 junction to merit being avoided at all costs.

Then in 1987 I went with a team of students to do some field work in Wolverhampton. I was 18 months back from several years in Brazil, and missing it. In Wolverhampton I visited with a couple of Afro-Carribean families and, to my amazement, found that the welcome and some of the attitudes took me straight back to Brazil. At home. I've never forgotten it.

But I'd never been back, until today, when we dropped down the Staffs and Worcs to Autherley junction. I never realised, until seeing it in the canal guide, that this iconic junction is in Wolverhampton. The greener, more picturesque parts. Very impressive. My thoughts about Wolverhampton have changed once again.

Bloggers' boats

We've only run into a couple of other boating bloggers on our travels so far. We met Bruce and Sheila when they overwintered at Great Haywood a year and a bit ago, then again on the Trent and Mersey last Autumn. And we chatted with Bones at Annie's tea rooms last summer. But that's it.

Yesterday we missed two and a half opportunities as we came down to Penkridge. NB Rock 'n Roll and NB Bendigedig were tied up on opposite sides of the cut within a short distance of each other. I was too surprised to think to stop and say hello to either, though I checked out their blogs later to make sure it was them. I suppose I'm a bit diffident about this sort of thing – but I also know how much I've enjoyed it when people who've read this blog take the trouble to introduce themselves. It's a funny old thing, doing the self-analysis to understand the balance between the confidence and the shyness in yourself.

And the half? That was a narrowboat called Briar Rose. Checking out the blog, it was apparent this was a different Briar Rose. Just as well I didn't stop to greet them – they'd have wondered what on earth I was talking about!

Out of condition

Well, we made it. Water tank full, diesel tank full, poo tank empty (almost). Sun in the sky, wind not too cold, a day for tee-shirts, dark glasses and sun-hats. Off we sailed, down the Staffs and Worcs and have tied up just past the Midland Chandlers depot at Penkridge. Very convenient as we need to get an extra centre line in the morning. Only down side is the M6 rumbling along about a quarter of a mile away. But my best beloved has recently taken to using ear-plugs at night to cut out the sound of my snoring, and the M6 rumble pales into insignificance beside that. For my part, I can sleep through almost anything.

My principal issue is going to be neck and shoulders, which are putting up a steady complaint after about 5 hours at the tiller. You'd think they would have let me know earlier, and we could have stopped sooner. But no, they waited until the last lock gate was shut behind us and the mooring ropes neatly tied to begin their whining. Now they are having a competition to see which can scream the loudest. Never saw this coming – better start an appropriate exercise regime.

Meanwhile, I have to decide on the best medicine. A couple of paracetamol, or a nice glass of red wine. Hm… So I put it to the medically-trained member of the partnership. And she said: "Both!"

Connections

A friend laughed at my joy over Erin Mae's TV/audio system when we were buying her 18 months ago. His father-in-law (a liveaboard at the time) would have reserved such enthusiasm for a vintage diesel engine requiring constant loving care. It wasn't so much the surround sound – haven't even got that at home. But there are certain things we enjoy watching together, and music has played a large part in our lives. Boating's rural idyll is all very well, but there are times when you want to watch some good Danish drama, or listen to whatever you listen to without the MacBook's speakers completely ruining it. Dolby 5.1 doesn't equal hi-fi, but it sounds pretty good to my somewhat impaired eardrums.

It depends in part on what floats your technological boat. Ever since I wasted homework time drawing transistor radio circuit diagrams, I've loved the magic of electrical connections and the systems they generate. So the most recent challenge was to connect the MacBook to Erin Mae's AV system. Amazon came up with a range of leads and adaptors, while Great Haywood's wonderful poste restante service saw them delivered locally. Today's appalling weather meant it was a day for jobs indoors, so I finished adapting the support for the TV we had brought from home, connected all my new connectors, and now we can listen to the iTunes collection or watch something from iPlayer in proper style. Mind you, an AppleTV added to the setup would do it all with even more aplomb…

The rest of the world of connections goes up and down. We've mislaid the charger for my best beloved's phone, and it's so ancient that neither Carphone Warehouse nor the man with the trolley-load in Stafford's shopping centre stocked one. Calamity! The device that provides Erin Mae's wi-fi works pretty well for the most part, but will occasionally suddenly decide to stop talking to the MacBook. But on the more human front, yesterday we met Philip and Hazel (nb Matthew Flinders, also based at Great Haywood) and found that Philip reads this blog from time to time. Nice to meet you guys. A good connection!

Fish and Chips

What is it about fish and chips, in the car, in a lay-by? It's a memory from childhood, six of us in a Morris Cowley coming back from holiday in North Wales. Don't know where the chippie was – don't even remember whether the newspaper contained fish to go with the chips. Just a moment of family togetherness two thirds of the way home. A pattern we often repeated, years later, with our own kids.

Coming back up to the Erin Mae on Saturday we thought we'd stop for food at the Harvester where the A446 splits from the A38. Should have known better.  They could seat us right away, but the food would be 40 minutes to an hour. Optimisitic, we thought. So we pushed on, thinking of a pub in Rugeley where we'd had some nice grub once. Then I said "What about fish and chips, if we can find any?" My best beloved's eyes sparkled like a Christmas tree and, yes, she thought she'd seen a chippie just by the traffic lights in Lichfield. Ten minutes later, armed with cod and chips and a couple of cans of diet Pepsi, we pulled over into a lay-by and tucked in. It felt like a midnight bean-feast. Who cares that it wouldn't quite have made Egon Ronay?