Northernmost

The most northerly fishing village in the world!

The most northerly railway in the world (through the minibus window)

Two of the delights of yesterday and today. We didn't travel on the railway – crossed over it on our way to do some snowmobiling.

It was -22 in the sun, while the wind-chill factor (we were told) dropped it down to lower than -40. I don't remember my beard growing icicles before – and that was inside the helmet. Afterwards they took us into the tepee for coffee and strips of dried reindeer meat, while the expedition leader dressed in a Sami shaman's hat and sang us a Sami song. Hm…

We've now docked briefly in Vardø. In about 20 minutes, some brave souls are going swimming in the Barents Sea. I shan't be one of them – had enough cold fun for one day!

The adventure resumes

Last night we saw the Northern Lights. At dinner on M/S Richard With, 4 hours north of Tromsø, the call came that the lights were visible on the starboard bow. To the dismay of the chef, the restaurant promptly emptied and the decks were filled with light-hunters looking, given the temperature outside, like a herd of Michelin men. You could tell the really serious ones by their tripod-toting and the size of their lenses.

Over the next few hours the lights came and went and re-arranged themselves around the crystal night sky. The crew (apart from the chef) were generally ecstatic as this was the first suitable weather they’d had for a long time. I’d devoured my camera instructions to find out how to set it up in the way suggested by the ship’s guide. The results certainly didn’t match those of the tripod-toters, but were enough to show that we’d been there. Perhaps the display will show up again tonight.

To ensure Erin Mae didn’t get too jealous at this sudden transfer of affections to another vessel, we’d paid a fleeting visit on Wednesday. It was an opportunity to check that all was well mid-winter, which it was. The main reason, however, was that we’d inadvertently left on board my walking boots and my best beloved’s walking poles, both rather necessary for a February trip to the Arctic. Doh!!

As you have never seen her…

Jo, my "niece-in-law" and mother to Lewis and Charis who so enjoyed their day on Erin Mae in June, is a potter. Even so, we could never have guessed what awaited us in the Royal Mail depot when we returned from Great Haywood last weekend.

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Isn't that staggering! It's a delightfully affectionate representation. If it had been me, I think I would have been too bothered by scale and exact proportions, and ended up with something awful. Jo has captured the spirit of the boat and created something wonderful. We love it. Thanks, Jo.

The Heart of Things

For this ex-Londoner, most trips to the capital are a sore trial. For my best beloved, raised in Co Donegal, they are full of delight and excitement. Yesterday we had a special reason to go up – an exhibition of paintings by a former student of mine. But first we went to the Science Museum. That's the stuff of half-term memories from my childhood, with buttons to push and levers to pull and all sorts of exciting consequences. More than 50 years on, Stevenson's Rocket is still in pride of place, to remind us now of how quickly the economic viability of the canals was threatened by the railways. However, we found ourselves spending most time in the sections on the history of medicine and space travel. In both cases, it was intriguing to note that exhibits which must feel like ancient history to visiting schoolchildren had been part of our own experience.

The capsule from the Apollo 10 mission round the moon was there. I still remember sitting in Heathrow a few months later, listening to the moon landing happening. The second exhibit to strike us was a mock-up of a 1980 open-heart operation. My best beloved had been specially trained to scrub for these as theatre nurse when they first started doing them on children in Edinburgh.

From the museum, we caught the tube to the Monument. My mum used to talk about it, but I can't remember us visiting as a child. I only realised today that it is Wren's monument to the Great Fire of London, with long inscriptions in Latin to describe both the fire and the reconstruction. It has recently been restored, and it's an extraordinary sight, soaring up into the sky between far more modern edifices.

So finally we walked from there to the Menier Gallery on Southwark Street for a private evening viewing of "The Heart of Things". It was a great joy to see Sarah Kelly-Paine again. Her website describes some of the inspiration she gets from her life in France, and it was fascinating to compare her current work with the painting that has hung on our lounge wall since she was a student of mine in the mid-90s.

(Pictures courtesy of Sarah's website)

Another wonderful day, well worth the penalty of getting home half an hour after midnight.

Birthday belt

A wonderful autumn day.

Bacon and eggs and mushrooms for breakfast, followed by coffee, and then lunch, at the Lockside Restaurant in Great Haywood. Must be my birthday again!

A saunter down the canal to capture some of the scenery.

But I just missed the Carling Black Label squirrel that scampered across the bridge rail!

Phone calls from the family, and a new belt, courtesy of my best beloved, cunningly crafted by Dave.

Did you notice it was upside down?

A happy, right-side-up day.

Second undercoat

Well, it stayed dry enough to get the second undercoat on the hatch patch. No picture – it looks just the same as on yesterday's post. Instead, a response to Mo's comment.

On Rich's recommendation we bought a Brush Mate from Amazon. You store your brushes in a plastic box with a vapour pad, and you don't have to clean them, until you want to use them for a different paint. It stores four brushes, so I reckon that's two different sizes for two paints – green undercoat and green overcoat for me. I don't yet know whether you could squeeze in another small brush for varnish. However, when the Brush Mate came through the post, we found that the vapour pad lasts about six months, so it seemed rather foolish to start using it just as we go home for the winter. White spirit it is! Plus some magic brush cleaner from B&Q. All in small glass bottles, to be disposed of – somehow.

Tomorrow looks wet, so the undercoat will have to survive and we'll see what Friday brings.

Primer and undercoat

The main thing, said Rich, was not to leave primer overnight once the evenings were getting damp. It allows the dew to get through to the steel, which is not a Good Thing. However, you can apparently paint over it earlier than it says on the tin, so the plan was to get primer and first undercoat on in one day.

According to Steve the marina manager, there was a coat of ice over everything at 7 this morning. I confess I didn't see it – nor much else until considerably later. By the time I'd breakfasted, the sun had warmed up everything sufficiently to tackle the primer, but it was still early enough to get an undercoat on in the afternoon.

It's amazing what questions arise as soon as you actually start doing the job. Things I hadn't thought to ask Rich during our session last week. Do you rub down the bit you treated with Rust Exit? Do you thin primer or not? How much stirring is enough? If the undercoat tin says you can thin it with CraftMaster's PPA, are you sure you can use white spirit? How do you get a small amount of undercoat out of its tin and into the baked beans can (previously emptied!) ready for adding some white spirit, without spilling it everywhere? One you've finished the job is it OK to put the surplus thinned paint back into its tin? How does a boater dispose of white spirit? When you come to do the next undercoat should you use new masking tape?

No doubt all this will become second nature. At the moment I'm more concerned about the second undercoat. Hopefully tomorrow's weather will be favourable.