Oh hang on though – in England we all just did. The Matrix hiccoughed and suddenly there I was, an hour behind where I had been.
We had – and are still having as I type – a lovely squall here on the canals. Forty miles per hour winds, the variety of rain that sweeps along like small angry clouds at ground level. The wind direction is onto the Cardinal’s stern end and slightly onto the towpath, all of which is wot are good, and I am sure certain that my mooring ropes are grateful. Officially it’s oh nine hundred hours o’clock but is it really ten hundred? Light? There are signs that the great outdoors may engage with daylight soon, it’s been very dark indeed during the weather.
On my “dawn” patrol I discovered that the big window in the galley was, behind the blind, open. Not as discombobulating as may seem, since the panes tilt inwards at the top and no more. Question is, did I somehow draw the blind over an open window during yestereve’s disclemencies [unlikely] or was the window blown open by some gust? If it did blow open then why did my guard-dog hind-brain not wake me? It’s happened before, during a gale of some sixty-five milekins per hourliquode, when the wind was directly on our beam. Itth a mythtery, and there’s a Toyah Willcox reference for you to put alongside the earlier Cher reference.
Do I have a series of photographs for this post of a man and his narrowboat charging head-down into England’s autumnal meteorological pleasantries? Do I hell. The covers are lashed in place, Mr Stove is lit and I am busy getting myself wholly, albeit temporarily, outside of a(nother) litre of coffee from beans kidnapped in their prime from Southern India. Any and all outdoor jobs can wait until tomorrow at the earliest, which will he halfway towards Tuesday when the weather is predicted by the soothsayers to be more reasonable.
I shall, whenever tis that I venture out, need my boots for the towpath; the surfaced areas that I can see are a shallow rapids, the more natural parts will be a mud-wallow infested with hippoids.
So, photographs eh? Well, you may have some of my favourite photos from my more sporting past to keepez vous amused. I couldn’t then sell these ones either for love nor money, not even to the folks featured in them. Plus ca change &etc.
This is remarkably good weather it must be said for sitting on a narrowboat and reading several damned good books. I spent most of yestereve alternately with the officials of the Victorian Raj in India or with the Rats in London, the latter courtesy of James Herbert and a rather nice hardback picked up for a quid in the local charr-id-ee shop hereabouts. Today will be more of the Raj – finishing the book, hopefully, and Mr Herbert’s ‘The Dark’. That only leaves me about fifty books that I haven’t started yet.
Do I read “e-books”? Yes I do, when circs dictate that I can’t get my grubby paws on a hardcopy.
I recommend an amuse-bouche collection of horror AND the latest in the “Penny” series.
I’ve read the former with its curiously compelling horror (and reviewed it), and I am reading the latter, as I have read and mightily enjoyed all of the earlier books in the series.
The images and links below are as elegant as Das Wordenpressen will allow me to get.
Cl uMsy, much, but you can at least click.
Well, the rain and the wind has stopped while I’ve been typing – tis now dead calm (suspicious), though still only an odd twilight, and has the air of trickery and meteorological backstabbery about it. Typical autumnal England. A man’s just sploshed past on the towpath, his small dog in a doggy-raincoat swimming frantically to keep pace. One of the coal boats that more generally frequents the Llangollen and environs has just pootled past, heading homewards. I hope that they haven’t come down the Audlem flight in its entirely this morning, at least not without a pre-warmed snorkel and a bottle of rum.
I wonder what traffic we’ll see today? The hires and share boats will of course have little to no choice about cruising, having set themselves targets and placed themselves away from base. Some cruise past in these conditions with everyone on the rear deck and enjoying the squelch. Other boats cruise past with family all inside (and glued mindlessly to their “smart” “telephones”) while Father keeps lonely vigil at the tiller, muttering something under his breath about ‘…sodding Benidorm next year it is then…’
Lunch today I hear you cry? Steamed veggies of course. I have found some potatoes which, while more suited to baking than anything else, at least have some flavour. I needs must keep up my broccoli quotient, and the carrots this year are particularly sweet.
As am I.
Chin-chin, chaps. I hope that wherever you are, if you are, it’s either pleasantly clement or pleasantly inclement and thus highly conducivious to some horror and a good yarn.