Update

It's been a while since I posted anything, or even took any photos. I've been busy, but mostly getting on with sorting stuff out, which never show spectacular progress and isn't really very interesting.

"Hazel" and "Forget me Not" are lying fallow for a while as we get on with some much needed work on them. At the moment Nessie is working on improvements to "Hazel"s bathroom. Aaron visited today so we put him to work cleaning brass, which he's very good at.

"Clent" and "Christopher James"

On Saturday 21st I went to Braunston for the National Community Boats Association AGM. With half an hour to spare before the meeting I stopped to have a quick look at Pete Boyce's yard. Nearest the road were BCN tug "Christopher James" and Josher motor "Clent". Pete spotted me taking photos and invited me in for a coffee. Unfortunately I couldn't stop long. Last time I saw "Clent" she had seams you could get your fingers through because she'd dried out. The pessimists said she'd never float again. Now she's nearly finished and Pete is confident she'll be afloat later this year.

Trains at Guide Bridge

On Friday 20th January I traveled to Rugby, starting my Journey at Guide Bridge. Here's a few photos from my wait on the platform.

A Hadfield service enters the station.

A trans Pennine unit curves away towards Stalybridge.

Another trans Pennine service bound for Picadilly.

At last! The Fire is Lit.

On Friday  me and Aaron took "Forget me Not" for a trip to build the bonfire. We took with us dry wood and boxes of paper to get it started. The idea was to ignite it Friday night. Unfortunately, as we went up towards Jet Amber to wind, the gearbox started slipping, To adjust it I needed a particular Allen key, which I keep in a particular place. It wasn't there. After much searching I went to fetch the van which has some Allen Keys in it, but excluding the necessary size. I went to the shop and managed to find one.

By the time we got back to the basin it was 8pm.

I re-arranged things for Saturday night and rang round to see who would like to join us. With such short notice it was just me and Helen who enjoyed the blaze.

The next thing is to plant a tree in the ashes.

One Day Something Will Go to Plan!

It seems the gods are against me with regard to my plan to use the foliage from the boatyard to make a bonfire to celebrate something, anything. First of all the plan for a Samhain fire was stymied by "Forget me Not"s breakdown. OK, I thought, lets have a Solstice fire. We had a tornado at the solstice! OK then, January 1st to celebrate the New Year ( I thought people would already have plans for New Year's Eve). I was recovering from a hospital visit and actually slept through the New Year fireworks.

"Forget me Not"  was still loaded with brash for the fire. It has to come off. I've re-set the date for the fire to January 12th. Nothing much to celebrate except my dad's 109th birthday. It seemed a good idea to get the load off ready so on Sunday me, Aaron, Helen and Ozzy set off up the Peak Forest. We towed "Hazel" along so that Helen could get a bit more practice at butty steering.

Dukinfield lift bridge is always a challenge to get a deep drafted boat through. It's a favourite fly tipping spot, and, inevitably some of the rubbish ends up in the bridgehole. It's always bad, but we've always managed to get through it. until now.

As usual, I wound the power on as we approached the bridge, expecting to bounce and grind a way through. In fact the stern end of the motor boat leaped several inches upwards and abruptly stopped. The butty came hurtling onwards and jammed between motor and copings with a crunch. 

Various people were waiting to cross the raised bridge so I was glad that we were able to extract the boats before tempers got strained. After dropping the bridge to let people cross, we raised it and had another go. The boat stuck again. Dusk was gathering so we pulled the boats back and tied them for the night.

Next morning I rang CRT. They asked if the boat was deep drafted (with an unspoken implication that that made it our own fault). I pointed out that 2'9" was less than the metre depth that should be available on this canal. Kim came along to help and we had a go at clearing the bridgehole using a grappling iron and a keb. Unfortunately the blockage seemed to be of stone or concrete and we couldn't get it out.

I drove "Forget me Not" at the blockage and, as she entered the narrows, Kim and Aaron each grabbed a line and pulled hard. Again the stern leaped out of the water, but she kept going  and I was able to tie her on the other side while we went back to bowhaul "Hazel" through.

Soon we were at the bonfire site, an area of rough ground infested with himalayan balsam and Japanese knotweed. I checked on trees that we've planted there in previous years, then we unloaded the brash, ready to form into a bonfire. We then had a relativel uneventful trip to Hyde to wind. On the way back we got through the bridge by the usual method of taking a run at it and hoping for the best.

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When your friend goes Nazi.

The stereotypical idea of German history is that they were evil aggressors during the Great War, then suddenly became really liberated during the 1920s, only to turn into strutting Nazis in 1933 and then magically transform themselves into democratic workoholics post 1945. Of course, it's not as simple as that. In 1933 the National Socialist Party was disappointed to only get nearly 44% of the vote. After all, they'd done enough voter intimidation and that meant that 56% of the electorate were brave enough and disliked them enough to vote against them. The assumption is that those who enthusiastically supported the Nazis were all fairly nasty people. I thought this for a long time, until I saw a documentary about it. A lot of really nice people, including what would nowadays be regarded as hippies, thought the Nazis would sort out the many obvious problems of the country and wouldn't be too bad really.

When I was in the sixth form I was able to vote for the first time. The voting age had just been lowered to 18. I remember asking a particular girl how she intended to vote, and was shocked when she said Conservative. Her reasoning was that they had promised to allow private radio stations to be set up, which would mean that she would have a huge choice of pop music stations to listen to day and night. Labour had closed down the pirate stations (which actually peddled subtle right wing propaganda between the records) and substituted Auntie Beeb's Radio 1. This was the only thing that interested her.

Nazism is now creeping back in by a strange route. It's called libertarianism. That sounds good, I mean, we're all into liberty aren't we!  It's a bit like anarchism really, no laws, do your own thing man. Real hippie values, except for one big difference. Anarchism, in all it's many forms, tends to assume a level playing field. Everyone equal, no rich, no poor, resources shared. Libertarianism does not change the power structure. There are rich, there are poor. There are no gun controls. Anyone can say what they like  (eg, Libertarian Elon Musk has removed moderation from Twitter) so if you want to defame an entire race or class or gender just go ahead, it's a free country innit. If someone wants to intimidate you out of your home with bigger guns or more wealth, well, they're free to do that. If there's a deadly disease going round but you don't believe in it then no-one will make you stay at home, wear a mask or, God forbid, get vaccinated. Ah, there we go. All those nice people who are into aromatherapy and herbs and are (quite rightly) suspicious of big pharma.

The problem is, if you go down the libertarian route, you quickly find yourself in a very illiberal world. Donald Trump is a libertarian, but his appointees to the American Supreme Court have all but removed a woman's right to choose in the USA. It's a creeping journey towards Gilead.

My friend is a lovely woman. I've known her for years and, though we've never been really close, counted her as a friend. She runs a little cafe where I sometimes go for a butty at dinner time. She's qualified as a spiritual healer and used to be part of a group that were doing healing in return for a donation every week. It shocked me to discover that she is now selling copies of "The Light" in her cafe.

Here's what Wikipedia says about "The Light"-         

The Light is a self-published, monthly British far-right and conspiracy theory newspaper founded by Darren Nesbitt (frequently under the pseudonym Darren Smith) on 27 September 2020,[1] which claims the COVID-19 pandemic was a hoax. The paper has a sister publication, named The Irish Light, which was launched in Ireland by Gemma O'Doherty and John Waters.[2]

The paper has been criticised for spreading COVID-19 misinformation, Anti-Semitic conspiracy theories, Holocaust denial and death threats.[12][13] It regularly prints articles written by conspiracy theorist Vernon Coleman,[1] and according to a review from Harvard Kennedy School "includes content that is aimed at prompting participation and activism amongst adherents of conspiracy theories, rather than simply presenting information".[10][14] The paper has called for executions of journalists, politicians and doctors, leading it to being described as containing 'extremist propaganda'.[15][16]

Although the company behind the paper was dissolved on 15 February 2021,[17] the BBC reported in June 2023 that at least 100,000 copies of The Light were being printed each month and that the publication had more than 18,000 followers on the social media site Telegram.[18][19]

Claims

The print publication regularly makes conspiratorial claims surrounding Bill Gates and world leaders, promotes climate change denial and claims vaccines are weaponized mind control devices.[1][20]

It has called for modern-day Nuremberg trials for journalists, politicians and doctors and repeatedly referenced conspiracy theories concerning Agenda 21 and the Great Reset. It regularly criticised the COVID-19 restrictions in the United Kingdom by comparing vaccination efforts to Nazi extermination camps.[1][11][21] The paper was also found to have spread false claims concerning vaccines, COVID-19 and COVID-19 death figures.[22][23][24][25]

In September 2022, The Light shared an article written by far-right conspiracy theorist Paul Joseph Watson claiming that Lyudmyla Denisova, the former Ombudsman for Human Rights in Ukraine, had admitted to lying about the Russian military committing rape crimes in Ukraine. The disinformation analysis group Logically found that Denisova had only accepted her use of inappropriate language in describing the rape crimes, but had not admitted to lying about said crimes.[26]

In November 2022, The Irish Light ran a headline with the phrase 'Died Suddenly' connected to marketing efforts around the release of an independent anti-vaccine film of the same name. In this issue, the paper used the images of 42 deceased individuals, claiming they had died due to being vaccinated. Upon investigation, none of the deaths were found to be due to vaccines but were caused by drowning, long-term illness, car accidents, meningitis and other events. The misuse of the names and images of the deceased individuals being used to promote anti-vaccine conspiracy theories caused severe distress among family members of the bereaved and an increase in online abuse.[27][28][29][30]

Far-right links

The paper has printed articles by Holocaust denier John Hamer and recommended books by white supremacist Eustace Mullins,[11] and has featured an article by pseudonymous blogger Lasha Darkmoon which said that people should be able to question the Holocaust.[11][18] It also defended radio host Graham Hart, who was sentenced to 32 months imprisonment after making anti-semitic remarks on his radio show in which he characterized Jewish people as "filth" and "rats" who "deserve to be wiped out".[18][31][32] The paper also regularly references the far-right Cultural Marxism conspiracy theory, which has similar roots in antisemitism, and has promoted the neo-Nazi propaganda film Europa: The Last Battle on its Telegram channel.[11]

The paper has also been criticised by the anti-racist group Hope not Hate for its support of the far-right by interviewing anti-Islam party politician Anne Marie Waters, printing articles co-authored by the English Democrats chair Robin Tilbrook and Heritage Party leader David Kurten, and promoting material by Mark Collett, the leader of the fascist group Patriotic Alternative.[11] According to its founder, he is in communication with the editor of the German far-right conspiracy theory publication Demokratischer Widerstand (Democratic Resistance), which has stated that it is a "partner" newspaper of The Light. Demokratischer Widerstand has been linked to the Reichsbürger movement, the group behind the 2022 failed coup attempt in Germany.[18]

Distribution and Criticism

The paper is purchased via private Facebook groups and Twitter contacts and then distributed by volunteers who are instructed to airdrop copies through letterboxes or abandon the paper in public spaces.[33][34][35][36][37] Local leaders in towns across the country have accused the publication of "inflaming division and harassment with false and misleading claims about vaccines, the financial system and climate change".[18] Its distributers have also been criticised for deliberately targeting teenagers and children.[47]

After copies of the paper were distributed in Stroud, residents protested against the paper, stating: "...we are alarmed by The Light's use of the pandemic to push support for antisemitism, Holocaust denial and racist hate speech - as well as for denial of climate change, NHS-bashing, and other reactionary views."[4][7]


It's interesting that Stroud is mentioned. Along with Totnes, Glastonbury and Hebden Bridge it has a high percentage of hippieish/new agey residents, who have generally brought new life to these towns and have values of love and peace and tolerance that I generally share. I've heard though that Totnes has gone rather sour post pandemic with anti vaxxers harrassing those who went along with Covid precautions.

I imagine it's the antivaxx line that has enticed my friend on to the slippery slope towards fascism.

I know a lot of people distrust conventional medicine, and, in particular, the huge pharmaceutical corporations. I'm one of them, but, there's always a danger of throwing out the baby with the bathwater. I don't believe that having multinational conglomerates manufacturing and marketing drugs for profit is the best way of ensuring good health among humans in the world. The Fentanyl scandal illustrates this. However, if I have a headache I'll take paracetemol. I'm suspicious of antibiotics, I think they're too widely used, but if the alternative is death, like when I had a bad infection last year, I'll have them. I've had spiritual healing and I believe it did me some good, but I wouldn't rely on it if I had HIV. I'd want antiretrovirals thank you very much. When I was diagnosed with cancer I changed my diet, ate cannabis, imagined little gremlins attacking the tumour and was prayed for by half the Christians in Ashton. I also had the conventional hormone therapy and radiation treatment.

When it came to the pandemic I did not go down the conspiracy rabbit hole. I'm old enough to remember people crippled by polio, pretty much eradicated by vaccination, and I can remember, when I was young, huge numbers in India died from Smallpox, now eradicated by vaccines. That doesn't mean I like the companies that develop and manufacture them.

Antisemitism of course has received a huge boost from recent events in Gaza. I am one who has described the unconscionable attack on civilians, and refusal to allow any real aid, as genocide. These are the actions of a right wing government, elected with the help of the same dodgy fixers who got Trump elected in the USA. It's easy to slip from condemnation of the Israeli government to generalised hatred against Jews, but it's wrong.

The publisher of this nasty rag, "The Light", is a flat Earther. Well. I'll leave that there.

What a day!

Everything seems to be being difficult at the moment. The revised bonfire date is January 1st, but the way things are going I don't know if we'll manage it. "Hazel" has been alongside a wall in Dukinfield over Christmas. This is where we take her to charge her batteries thanks to our friends Dixon & Smith, Motor Engineers. Though they go home at a decent time, they share the yard with another garage, run by a workoholic, so we can usually get in quite late in the evening. Surprisingly. they didn't work Christmas Eve, so we were locked out over Christmas.

Yesterday, 28th December, they were open, so we could complete the charging cycle. My plan was to do that, which would only take an hour or so, move "Hazel" back to the basin then take "Forget me Not" to the bonfire site and unload her cargo of brash. I rang Aaron and he agreed to help.

I'd woken up in the morning to hear radio reports of a tornado in Tameside the previous night. Social media pinpointed it to Stalybridge. with reports of damage on Knowl St. First job was to visit the boatyard to assess the situation.

It turned out to be not too bad. The whirlwind had redistributed various items and ripped one of the roofing tarpaulins on the outdoor workshop, but nothing that can't be fairly easily fixed.

When we got back to "Hazel" I had a nasty surprise. Because it was already well charged I hadn't put the solar battery on charge. Unfortunately I'd forgotten to switch off the fridge and, with hardly any sunlight, this had totally flattened it over the festive season. With all the rain and no power for the pumps I found that the back cabin was flooded. Once power came down the wires again I discovered that there was a problem with the pumps anyway.

Aaron went home and I set to work trying to trace the problem, kneeling in wet water most of the time. After a break to eat my butties and have a brew I noticed some discomfort in my lower body.


In 2019 I had treatment, including radiotherapy, for prostate cancer. Apparently about 5% of those who have radiotherapy in this area develop side effects, such as a stricture (blockage) in the plumbing, meaning that they can't pee the normal way. I was one of the lucky 5% and about 2 years ago I was fitted with a suprapubic catheter. That's a plastic tube that comes from my bladder out through my belly and down to a bag on my leg. It's really screwed up my career as a porn star, but it's better than the alternative, a slow and agonising death through retention leading to kidney failure.

I had a look and realised that there was no tube protuding from my belly. I thought it had broken off at the skin.

I quickly locked up, went back to the basin to stop "Forget me Not"s engine which was charging her batteries, and drove to the shop to collect Emuna. Collecting things from the house for a possible hospital incarceration, we got a taxi to Tameside General.     The taxi driver said he was glad he was retiring soon as robots were going to take all the jobs. I helpfully suggested that they might do away with pensions! He knew who to blame for the world's ills, not the desperate refugees but the super rich who hoard their money in tax havens.

A&E Waiting time 4 hours. Emuna got a taxi back home as I'd forgotten my spare catheter. I've been to Tameside before for less serious problems and they never have the right size in stock.

By now the pain was getting bad. We've all experienced the feeling of urgently needing to go. It's hard to concentrate on anything except finding a place where you can empty your distended bladder. I had that but with no way out for the liquid that my kidneys were continuing to deliver  unabated. My bladder stretched until it was fit to burst. I couldn't sit still but had to walk about.

Luckily the triage nurse recognised the seriousness of my predicament and put me to the front of the queue. Emuna arrived just before I was called in.

The nurse who did the initial inspection told me that the catheter had not broken but had come out. This shouldn't happen as there's a balloon inside to hold it in place. It must have deflated. A standard catheter change should be done in no more than 20 minutes, before the portal closes (sounds like a line from Dr Who!) I'd now been catheterless for over 2 hours.

A doctor came, had a look, and told me that they couldn't deal with it at Tameside and he'd get me blue lighted to Stepping Hill in Stockport. Fairly soon he came back to tell us that there was no ambulance available ( What a surprise ) so Emuna called a taxi. The nurse came back to give me a squirt of morphine in my mouth. It took the edge off the pain for the journey but soon wore off.

"Stepping Hill and step on it" I told the driver. It was rush hour and I was cursing every red light and tardy driver that got in our way. Eventually we got there and handed the letter that we'd been given to reception at A&E. They said go to the Surgical Assessment Unit (SAU). Where's that? We asked. They looked at each other. "I think it's down the glass corridor" said one. "Go to the main entrance and it's signposted from there" said another. The main entrance is pretty well blocked off by building work but I knew a way to it via a nearer entrance.  From previous visits I also knew where the glass corridor was.

We reached the main entrance, Emuna fretting that I might be taking the wrong route. We looked for signs directing us to the SAU. There were signs for just about every department, but not a mention of SAU. We asked a nurse. Blank looks. We went down the glass corridor. We asked another person in uniform. More blank looks. A porter pulled a patient on a bed out of a lift. We asked him. "Take the lift to the second floor, turn right and it's first on the right".

We stumbled into the ward to be met by a very nice tall sister who, realising how much pain I was in, offered me some paracetamol. My mouth was dry by now but I was determined not to drink anything. I was starting to get a bit of lower back pain which made me concerned that it might already have backed up to my kidneys. There was only one place it could go and that was already full. As the sister went to get some water I swallowed the pills dry. Emuna drank the water.

The doctor had been waiting for me but it seemed an age before we were shown into a treatment room and a young bearded South Asian man appeared. It was now about 4 hours since the catheter came out. The young doctor soon realised that he needed back up, so he summoned a more experienced doctor, who also looked very young to me (but so do police officers). She directed him in the procedure. I had feared I would have to have surgery as the portal must be firmly closed by now. In fact he carefully inserted a very small size catheter, then took it out and put in a slightly larger one, and so on until he got to the proper size.

OH, THE RELIEF!!!!!

They brought us each a cup of coffee and we sat for a while. I suddenly felt wonderful. As we left I skipped out of the door shouting wayhey out, with Emuna following saying "Stop It"!

Emuna's poorly knees had now had enough and she could only walk slowly along the long hospital corridors. We called at the main entrance reception to ask for a local taxi number. There was nobody there. We carried on to another exit where we met a really helpful Afro-Caribbean nurse who was just coming into work. Rather than just give us a number, she rang the taxi firm for us and negotiated with them. Soon we were being whisked back home at a much greater speed than the outward journey.

Back home Emuna made a simple meal. Tiredness was creeping up on me so I went to bed and slept like young log. Emuna struggled to sleep and spent most of the night watching films on her laptop.

This morning Emuna wanted to go to the shop to tidy up what she'd left in the middle of (and make sure no-one sold her wheelchair). I drove her to the shop and then carried on down to the boats. I disconnected the charger from "Hazel"s now fully charged battery, but I was starting to feel uncomfortable in the general area that had received attention. I rang Aaron and he agreed to move the boat back to the basin for me.

My idea was to spend the day doing office work, but, in reality I read for a bit then wrote this. Emuna spent the afternoon snoozing in her reclining chair. I'm still pretty uncomfortable and hoping I don't get an infection. The bilge pumps can wait. I'll be back at work when I feel OK again.

Heroine of the night, my wonderful wife Emuna who stuck with me all the way through despite her knackered knees.



"

A High Wind on the Solstice.

Sadly, because of excessive winds caused by Storm Pia we had to postpone our planned Solstice bonfire. It looks like it will happen on January 1st instead, to welcome 2024. Here are a few pictures of "Forget me Not" and "Hazel" returning down the locks from Stalybridge to Ashton with a load of brash for burning.

Up the Locks to Stalybridge

At Knowl St Heritage Boatyard there's a big pile of brash that is the result of our efforts to control the over boisterous foliage in the boatyard. The intention was to take this to a spot up the Peak Forest and have a bonfire to celebrate Samhain. Unfortunately a breakdown on "Forget me Not" scuppered that plan, so it was postponed until the Winter Solstice, December 21st.

The brash has to be transported, so it needs to go on "Forget me Not"s deck. The first part of the job is to take "Forget me Not" up the 7 locks to the boatyard. It made sense to take "Hazel" too so that volunteers could gain some experience working a pair through locks, and enjoy the trip too.

I was a bit concerned when I started getting last minute cancellations. It seems that nasty viruses are doing the rounds at the moment. I needn't have worried, by, well, a bit after the start time of 10 am, we had a good team together. Helen, Ozzy, Aaron, Marcus, Andrea, James, Kim and Kath were our crew. Of these, the only experienced boaters were Aaron, Kim and Kath. Kath and Kim elected to go ahead setting locks, so I took the motor and Aaron looked after the butty and help the trainee steerer, initially James.

We immediately picked up something on the blade and struggled to get past the moored boats. I stopped and tugged at what felt like clothing with the cabin shaft. I don't know what it was as it came free and drifted away.

With the blade turning freely we were soon through the Asda tunnel and on to lock1W. With Aaron's help our team quickly picked up the techniques. As I waited for the butty to work up the lock I tied the motor in the entrance to Whitelands 'tunnel' and had another poke at the blade with the shaft, successfully removing some plastic bags and fabric. I then removed some floating tree loppings that were threatening to jam the gates. We encountered many more of these as we worked our way up.

Kath and Kim had gone way ahead of us. We got through the 'tunnel' (opened out over a century ago but still a long narrows that can be difficult if the water is low or there's rubbish in it). This time it was easy going.

After lock 2 there's only a short pound to lock 3 so the motor goes ahead, leaving the butty to be bowhauled the short distance. Unusually, a rather dishevelled looking steel boat was tied in this short pound. As we took water out of the pound to work the lock it began to list alarmingly. With two lockfulls taken I began to wonder if all the roof clutter would stay in place. Luckily it did, but getting the line over for bowhauling was tricky.


Lock 3 had a bottom gate that wouldn't stay open. I had to push it with "Forget me Not"s bows and worried that it might stick and jam the boat. It didn't and I later discovered that there was something  spongy behind the gate that oozed oil when compressed. I was pleased to see water pouring over the weir and a tight top gate. For years there have been bad leaks in that top gate, causing low water levels in the long and often rubbish filled pound above (see my post 'Secrets of the Peak Forest).

The long pound was unusually easy to navigate. The only difficulty was a pile of stone ( I think) on the bottom at the approach to lock 4. The motor dragged herself over this but the butty caught her up and they nearly jammed in the narrows.

Locks 4 to 6 have short pounds so the butty is bowhauled through again. Number 6 is very slow filling as the locking mechanism doesn't unlock on one paddle, so only the other one can be used.  I was expecting the bowhauler to arrive ahead of the butty and pass the line up to me to do the Indian Rope Trick of swinging it under the lock tail bridge. Instead, "Hazel" arrived at quite a speed being legged under Melbourne St bridge by Aaron.

After waiting an age for the lock to fill the pair attempted to set off. I'd recently made up a new towing line from some rope that appeared to be pretty sturdy. I decided to give it a try. I suppose I gave it quite a snatch setting off from number 4, but nothing extreme. The line exploded. It wasn't as strong as it looked! I backed up the motor and tried again with the old towing line. All went well until the entrance to Tesco. The motor stuck fast on what I imagine was a shopping trolley. I tried all the usual tricks but she wouldn't come free. Crowds of gongoozlers gathered on each side. Eventually I rang Aaron, who was expecting us at lock 7, to ask him to send down a flush of water. This, and assistance pulling on the back end line from a particularly strong gongoozler, got the boat free.

We bounced over a few more shopping trolleys, then something impeded the motor in the tail of lock 7 and we managed to get the 2 boats wedged. This was soon dealt with and we started to work up our final lock of the day.

As the motor rose in the lock a lady with small child in a pushchair stopped to watch. The little boy was fascinated and the pair stayed to watch the whole procedure. Perhaps in 15 years time he'll join us.

A pile of tree offcuts lay to one side of the lock, all waiting to be thrown in and cause havoc down the locks.

The usual procedure is to wind in the winding hole immediately above the lock and reverse up to the boatyard. The boats fit in better facing West. On this occasion Kim is planning to fit new engine 'ole doors so he wants the relevant side facing the bank. We went forwards the 100 yards or so to the boatyard. There seems to have been some silting since we last had boats there as we stemmed up on the approach the were unable to get "Forget me Not"s stern end close to the bank. Kim is going to have to learn to walk on water!



Shifting Hazel's Old Bones

When we rejuvenated Hazel we ended up with a lot of semi decayed wood. This we kept, with the idea of turning it all into saleable craft items. I gave a lot of fragments of Hazel's old bottom to people to paint, but got very few back. Some had lovely castle designs painted on them  by the late Anne Riley and Maxine Bailey. Sadly, Anne is no longer with us and Maxine has eye problems so isn't painting any more.

A lot of the wood has been cut down to handy sized chunks with one face sanded ready for painting. What hasn't yet been processed is stored on top of the containers at Knowl St. These containers are now leaking badly. They are going to be covered by some curtainside lorry sheets kindly donated by Tautliners of Newcastle under Lyne. Over the last few weeks I've been gradually shifting the wood to make way for this. i didn't do it when Dave was there as he worried that I'd come through the roof of his workshop.

Today was a lovely cold sunny wintry day, This mornings Hazel trip was cancelled at the last minute so I headed over to Stalybridge to complete the woodshifting job. It's now done and we have to devise  a way of getting those heavy PVC sheets up on to the roof.

I'm determined that these pieces of historic but semi decayed wood will eventually be turned into things of beauty. Any budding upcyclers out there who would like to help please get in touch.