Packing

The time has come. We've quite a lot planned for November, but it includes extracting ourself from Erin Mae for the winter. Yesterday was the first of what we expect to be several trips. Fortunately, because we'll be back up at the weekend, and then again a couple of weeks later, there was no need to ensure we'd cleared or cleaned everything.

We'd had more clothes than usual with us, because of our visit to Norway in May, so we started with the suitcases, the washing (clothes, bedding, towels) the instruments (guitar and piano accordion), and the kitchen stuff that isn't duplicated at home – bread maker, pressure cooker, Magimix, herbs and spices, perishables from the fridge. The tools have to come and go as well. Wasn't long before the car was filled to the gunnels. Erin Mae would snort at that, of course – what gunnels!?!

We calmed her down in the way you do with certain animals – a dark cover over the front windows – and got away just before lunch time. The journey to the New Forest was noticeable for one thing only: a decent flat white at Cherwell Valley services. I've been waiting for that for five months. We got home in the dark and unpacked just before the rain started again. Everything seemed fine at home except for a small infestation of fruit flies in our bedroom (where did they come from?), and the house soon warmed up.

Greeting us, of course, was the mountain of mail which we've been trawling through today. And on the back wall of the house, this:

Where this climber gets its energy from, I don't know. But we may well have blooms until Christmas. And then eight yards in front of the kitchen window was someone else still showing off.

It was raining, so I snapped it from the back through the window. That rose was one left to us by the previous owners, so it's at least 30 years old.

The odd thing is that it doesn't really feel like five months since we were here. But should we doubt it, a glance at the mail mountain puts us right!

Pureglow

It's hardly surprising that solid fuel manufacturers give their products names that conjure up warmth, light, comfort – a bastion against the cold encroachments of winter. Supertherm is pretty pedestrian, and Excel brings to mind software rather than hardware. But Warmblaze – you could eat your crumpets in front of that one. And Pureglow – why wouldn't you buy a couple of bags @ £9.50 for 25Kg? So we did, from the Coal & Diesel Boat Auriga on our way through Hawkesbury junction, looking forward to the cosy evenings the name promised.

Rick had said "It doesn't like to be poked", which seemed fair enough, though he didn't really explain why. When we finally came to use it, we found we could usually add some extra coals to it after two or three hours, but if we gave it a rattle before doing so, the bed tended to disintegrate and the new coals didn't catch. Once or twice I had to use kindling get it all going again.

Well, we could live with that, at £9.50 a bag, and get used to managing it. But it had other features that caused more consternation. The ash on the coals turned an unusual reddish brown colour, which got me wondering about its composition. More worrying was that I found it leaving a deposit on the upper part of the door of our Squirrel fire. At first this was white and seemed a bit furry, but towards the end of the first bag, it was red, and I realised it was also staining the fire bars. The next night the stain was all over the supports for the bars as well. Today I thought I'd brush it all off, and removed the door to do so. But I found that the deposit was not only red but distinctly oily. The same was true of the bars – there wasn't a lot to brush off, but it didn't touch the staining.

I googled it but the only report I found of any other boater with a Pureglow problem didn't mention stain or deposit. However, I decided enough was enough. It's bad enough getting oily deposits on the bits you can see – I don't want sticky stuff up the chimney. So with my wallet making small complaining noises, I left the remains of the second bag next to the drum for ash at the end of our jetty. It seemed a waste to throw it away in spite of my concerns, and someone else might appreciate a fiver's worth of solid fuel. Then I got a couple of bags of Superthem from the marina store.

And that wasn't £9.50 a bag!

Neoprene

I've been pleased with the sound insulation I installed in the summer. It was easy to cut, easy to fix and the effect is noticeable. Conversations on the cruiser deck as we travelled became possible at relatively normal volumes.

However, I'd always had a two part strategy, and in fact had bought a couple of rolls of neoprene self-adhesive strip before I'd even finalised which insulation panels I was going to buy. But I'd thought of the panels as being the main thing, and the strip as the icing on the cake, and somehow never found the time to fit it. When we were having a service done at Pillings Lock, Andy saw the panels, and said we'd notice an even better result with some neoprene strip – this was before he knew I already had some waiting to go on. So, today being a rainy day, I created a makeshift workbench under the pram hood, and got cutting and sticking.

It was all very simple. I de-greased the boards with U-Pol de-greaser, and the strip went on very easily. The trickiest part was ensuring that I fitted it exactly where it's going to rest on the steel framework over the engine compartment. The timber locating battens on the boards have a snug fit, and where there weren't any, I'd cut the panels to give an equally snug fit, so the strip had to be tucked in tight to batten or panel. Time will tell whether the steel frame is too near the edge of the neoprene for comfort, but for the moment it seems OK.

We're not planning on any more cruising this year, but perhaps we just might be tempted down to Tixall Wide and back, if we get a sunny day in November during one of our scheduled visits. Got to give it all a field test!

Dark red

In my limited experience, not all paints are equal. Having been delighted with the green undercoat from Craftmaster which I used when starting to paint bits of Erin Mae, I decided to stick with this make for the red bits as well. I'm in the process of covering up a slightly corroded bit before the ravages of winter strike, and I thought I had some. Not so!

Our own marina is a Craftmaster stockist, but they didn't have the Dark Red paint in question. The next nearest three stockists are all about an hour's drive away, and only one of them had it – our old friends at Kings Lock Chandlery in Middlewich. I would spend more on diesel getting there and back than I would on getting Craftmaster to send me some, but I'd get it today and, hey, it was a lovely afternoon for a country drive.

Well, the M6 bit didn't count as a nice country drive – stretches were uncharitably full of snarled-up traffic. Once we left the motorway, however, everything was fine. The last two miles of the journey were rather odd, as we drove alongside a stretch of the canal that we have done several times in Erin Mae. Nigel at Kings Lock, as ever, was very helpful, and even gave me a discount on the paint.

After a quick visit to the supermarket it was decision time – which way back to Great Haywood? We decided on the pretty route and went via Nantwich and then the A51 to Stone. We were very happy with the decision. The late afternoon sun was shining, the roads were relatively empty (and no, it wasn't that all the traffic was queueing up behind us!) and we had an enjoyable run home. At one point we passed over the M6, and its condition confirmed we'd done the right thing.

Now I've got the paint. All I've got to do is use it. Tomorrow looks as thought it will be a washout. I could probably have had it in my hands by Friday if I'd ordered it from Craftmaster, for less than I spent on the fuel today.

But it was a very nice drive home!

Flat white

I first heard about Flat White coffees some years back on the radio while in the car. I normally make coffee in a cafetière and drink it without milk, but this sounded interesting. Travelling from our house to the marina where Erin Mae lives in the winter, it's become our habit to stop at Cherwell Valley and have a coffee, so my first experience of a flat white was at the Costa there. I really enjoyed it, and it's become my go-to tipple on the road.

During this summer's travels it has proved extremely hard to find anyone else making it to the same standard. Some coffee shops have never heard of it, others say they'll do one, but what comes is more like a black coffee with a generous splash of cold milk. I sent back the one from the eatery in the mill in Saltaire because it was watery and lukewarm. This was my experience again at Weston Hall on Sunday, where we decided to stop for coffee between worship at the Wildwood church in Stafford and lunch at the Hollybush in Salt. Weston Hall presents itself as a rather upmarket hotel / restaurant / bar complex. I'd asked for a cafetière for two, because there was a picture of one on the menu, only to be told that they didn't do those any more. They had a machine, I was told, but it does use proper fresh-ground coffee. My heart sank. I was being informed about the minimum for a decent coffee as though it somehow moved them into the top league. When the coffee came, it was really no better than the one in Saltaire, but I didn't have the heart to send this one back – probably to do with it's being Sunday and the fact that the waiter had gone upstairs to bring us down some nice shortcake biscuits. When I came to pay the bill I was told we could have those on the house.

Today I searched the internet for what makes a flat white. Wikipedia's article was interesting, and there were some other good sites as well. It seems to be about getting the milk to the right temperature with steam, using the correct part of the heated milk (the "microfoam"), and then having the right proportions in the final concoction to ensure that the coffee is what predominates. Costa also teach their baristas to do a bit of "Latte art" on top, which is nice and usually looks like a fern leaf.

Some people don't think much of Costa's coffee, and I think it's over-priced. But while they remain (IMHO) the standard-setter for a flat white, I think we'll continue to stop at Cherwell Valley.

Alive!

After we arrived home late yesterday afternoon, there was a fair amount of sorting out to do, and it was dark before I got out the car keys. For the last five months our Focus estate had been stood in one place, just up the bank from Erin Mae's mooring, soulfully (I fancy) awaiting our return.

I stood at the front of the boat, and pressed the button on the key fob, hoping to see an answering wink from the car. Nothing happened. Not a flicker!

It was all too reminiscent of what had happened after we spent three months out a couple of years ago, and had to get the AA to come and start it. The Focus seems to use more than its fair ration of electrons when you'd think everything was turned off.  But this time I had a 7 watt solar panel sitting under the windscreen, plugged into the lighter socket. I thought about going up to investigate, but if I wanted to try starting the engine I would have to disconnect the panel, and I was interested in knowing whether its green activity light was still lit before I did so. Since it was now dark it wouldn't be lit anyway and I didn't want to disturb it. So I waited till this morning.

What with the clocks going back, there was reasonable daylight by the time I got up. I popped up the bank and found the activity light was indeed on. The key fob still didn't work, so I opened the car door manually and disconnected the solar panel. The alarm started going as I did so – actually a very good sign, as it meant the car knew someone was disturbing its slumbers. Key in the ignition, and all the lights came on. Joy ineffable! I resisted the temptation to try starting it before the heater lamp had gone out (it's a diesel), but when I turned the key, the engine started without a hitch.

So I am very pleased. Cars apparently have various levels of sleep, and five months was enough to make it unresponsive to the fob. I am relieved to find that it was still sucking in daylight juice at a rate at least equivalent to what its systems were using. I am also relieved that the solar panel passed its first major test – one failed by the first panel I'd tried (a 2.5 watt version from the AA shop).

Made it

Job well done, really. The hard rain as we were getting up meant we were in no hurry to start on the last leg, even though the forecast promised much of the same all day long. However, by the time I came to drop the pram hood and move off the rain had actually stopped, as did we for a while in Rugeley to visit the fruit & veg shop and Morrisons. It was raining again when we emerged, so we stayed inside Erin Mae for coffee. By the time we'd finished, it had dried up again and we moved on. My chief concern was not to get water in the diesel tank when we filled up at the Taft Wharf. All was well and, happily, he was also selling gas bottles cheaper than anyone else. Ours ran out just a day ago.

Couldn't have gone better, really. We passed Maffi's boat in Rugeley, and No Problem on the way into Great Haywood, but no stopping this time – we were nearly home. Part of the way the canal runs alongside the river.

Is this barely discernible ditch really the mighty Trent whose tidal stretches we braved just a few weeks ago?

While waiting to go up Great Haywood lock I nipped up the path towards Shugborough, to give the river its due with a couple of photos, one each way.

It does look a little bit mightier from up on the bridge!

By the time we had done the last lock, gone through Great Haywood junction and were approaching the marina entrance, the sun had come out, brilliantly streaming across the scene as we came in.

We've been out and about since 30th May. I make that 21 weeks, which is the longest we've done so far.

I thought it would feel strange to be back in harbour, connected to a landline, not worrying about whether the batteries are being drained by this or that.. It actually feels pretty normal, which is strange in itself. The ducks are making the same noises, the trains that rush by still interfere with the TV signal.

Tomorrow we shall see whether the solar panel on the dashboard meant the car survived its summer without us.