The Things You See Sometimes On T’Canals

I’ve seen some horrors, but generally it’s great. You get to see Ingerlund’s rump end, the “back garden” view. It puts all of the Neanderthal rejects abounding – and even those ladies using the towpath up above Cholmondeston Lock (and right in front of the Cardinal) as their toilet – into perspextive.

In almost the same way that you never see baby pigeons you almost never see baby boats, but this one cruised past a few days ago. It needs a hug, a dish of warm diesel, and a comfortable basket to sleep in.

GooseAir is a holiday company that has yet to get off the ground, although their pilots are in training. Please to m’excuse and accept mon applebogies for the quality of these phomatographs of their Flight School, taken necessarily at t’extremes of t’range of t’pocket t’rocket t’zoom.

GooseAir Flight School at the start of the day…

…and then later, after lots of frantic radio calls of ‘Simon? Where the hell are you, Simon?’ and ‘Close up, Delphine, there’s room enough in your formation to lay a ruddy egg’ and ‘Fighters spotted angels twelve three ack emma pip pip gin for tiffin and a big pot of minty-fresh moustache wax to anyone who volunteers to take the lead’…

GooseAir Flight School towards the end of the day…

GooseAir are based at Hurleston Reservoir but are regularly disturbed – at least once every twenty years – when C&RT inspectors arrive to check the reservoir’s slumping sides. They then take off en masse to fly over neighbouring areas emptying their bowels. The geese, that is, not…



A lot of the stuff wot one doth see depends upon when it are that one is ight and abight. My schedule’s gorn raggy this yar but ‘early’ still features quite a lot. We had our first ice of the season a few days ago (only frosts before that, although technically I suppose…), discovered when I rolled off the bows in polyester onesie and curlers, fag ash flying, to squeegee the solar panels and found myself – to use the nautical term – thwarted.

Speaking of cold, I notice that despite their unequivocable “Energy Costs Help” promises (documented on double-ewes gov dot ewe K), and all others having already received their portions of the (fake, value-free, printed willy-nilly) money, there is nothing in place – other than a politician’s promises – to pay same to the four hundred thousand or so of or in households in Ingerlund that are not directly connected to Tory Chums Power Company Ltd. One can’t help but wonder why – it couldn’t possibly be that this scheme is just (yet another) money-laundering monumental fiddle moving dosh from taxpayer coffers to Eton & Rugby Alumni accounts, could it?

Quelle surpreese. Knock me down with a feather. Cover me in chocolate and throw me to the lesbians. And other expressions of “not really surprised”. šŸ™‚ As well as being afforded a grand view of the backside of England, when on a boat (or any alternative home) you also get a grand view of every politician’s backside. The MP for this neighbourhood – Edward Timpson – was thrown out of The Useless & Ignorant Self-Serving Idiots Club when I mentioned to the Chairman (over pudding during a recent Members-Only Dinner) that Dear Eddie simply doesn’t even bother to answer his constitutents’ enquiries. In a Representive Democracy he maintains himself, apparently, as a democracy of One.

Eddie was shown the door (and the binary workings of the handle explained to him, once again).

A portion on the view in Windy Alley

There are few if any trains running this weekend, a planned strike by Railway Vehicular Velocitation Controllerists having been cancelled too late for Management to cancel their own attendance at a wine-tasting in a vineyard*.

*A “wine-tasting in a vineyard” is much akin to a piss-up in a brewery, but is a managerial-level (only) event. Generally neither event is organised well.

Just to prove my blunt (I no longer have a ‘point’) a train clattered past just as I typed that…

Hey ho, ho hum, and hum diddle dee. Look at me; I’m a tree.

There are worse views to be had from the side-hatch, although it should be noted that there are few to no elephants roaming in this section of the countryside. This is only to be expected when endive is no longer endemic, and Edward Timpson is an Arsenal Villa are doing awfully well this season, are they not?

Now that it’s damned near officially Winter, autumnal colours are beginning to donnymate the landscape. How I love the cerulean sheen of a shivering pensioner.

Windy Alley goes ginger. Ooh er Missus.

Yestereve was Bonfire Night. I cerebralated by watching the film ‘V For Vendetta’ for the very first time (I’ve led a sheltered life, the Institute had a well-constructed roof). A most appropriate film on quite the most appropriate date. Lovely stuff. If wishes were ships I’d be bobbing about on the Thames watching those particular fireworks.

Couldn’t see any displays from these moorings, but ugly memories of The Somme were invoked by the distant glows and the gut-tickling semi-subsonic wallops of what could only have been small nukes being set off somewhere – probably Crewe, a not unusual occurrence there whatever the date.

There are (still) storm clouds on the horizon. I doubt that they belong to us, we probably rented them from some French corporation or are just storing them for someone. That’s the shame of England. Once upon a fine old time (not really, most of it was unnecessarily rotten for most people, just as now) we squatted atop twenty-five percent of the land-mass of the world.

Now we’re more ‘L For Lambretta’, and still everyone hates us.

This image was originally posted to Flickr by PabloBM at It was reviewed on 13 March 2014 by FlickreviewR and was confirmed to be licensed under the terms of the cc-by-2.0. – and other such bollocks.

History truly is bunk – as is the notion that it was somehow written “by the winning side”. There has been no “winning side” in that sense; there’s never been a battle. The status quo has been quo and our relative statuses (statii?) static since human society really began. Render unto Caesar &etc. It is the nature of humans. We are but baboons fighting endlessly for fifteen minutes of sitting upon the highest rock. Whatever the window-dressing that is all that we shall ever be, and it will inevitably bring about our species’ doom. Equality – and any equilibrium – are alien notions to the human brain; we all need someone to look down upon, which means necessarily that we all inherit someone to have to “look up” to. Opt out and “be nice” personally as much as you want to, that doesn’t alter the basic species-level human conundrum one iota.

And that wee observation is most depressing indeed.

As Crystal Hennessy-Vass so accurately observed; when the monkey gets to the top of the tree everyone can see its arse…

Still, mustn’t grumble. Look at the view, and whistle when it gets dark.

Chin-chin &etc.

Ian H.


  1. V for Vendetta prompted me to dive a bit into the whole ‘gunpowder Plot’, story, and quite the story it was. šŸ˜€ … love the boat-ette šŸ˜€


  2. I’m a bit lost as to why people celebrated Bongy Night at all this year, given that the whole point of said celebration is that Guy Fawkes’ plot to replace the Anglican King with a Catholic Monarch was foiled, thus ensuring that there’d never be a Catholic Monarch on the throne of England. So, Camilla (being the new Queen Consort) is of what religious denomination again? And yet the annual baking of startled hedgehogs who’ve hunkered down in a convenient mound of old wood and abandoned tyres for the winter persists…

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    1. I have spent my life hoping that Catesby Night was misrepresented, and that the intent both original and current was to replace monarchy and parliament with a small selection of show-standard root vegetables. Mind you, were we to achieve even that then there would simply be violent and ugly competition between the Potatoeists and the Leekers, both of them agreeing only on the unsuitabiity for high office of the Carrotites and the O’Nions, while the Cauliflower & Broccoli Union, garnering more votes than all of the rest put together, would “win” no sets and spend their days on television talking about proportional representation and fertiliser.

      It may be treason but I cannot hear the name ‘Camilla’ without thinking it to be some sort of luxurious bar soap from the nineteen-seventies.

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    2. The Gunpowder Plot was the opposite of what you said. It was to replace the king, who was thought to be a closet Catholic and that he was planning to turn England back to Rome.

      Liked by 2 people

  3. Wonderful colours in those photographs.
    Thanks to you my Sunday has now been ‘improved’ by the vision of flying Tyre Drowner inspectors opening their bowels…..preferably in the direction of the ‘ladies’ performing alongside the Cardinal. Lese majeste, surely….if only I had the accents.

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    1. The season here appears to be briefly wild in the matter of light and colour twice a day, and then intensely dull and monochromatic inbetwixt dawn and dusk. There was a fair moon last night and I swear that it was brighter than most of the day had been.

      Haven’t heard much from the new King – although I must say that I haven’t been seeking news or royal enlightenment, so that may be the problem. I suspect that he may be in his counting house, checking on what Mummy has left him… or else in Jermyn Street, being fitted for that nice new (invisible) suit ready for his Coronary. Um – Coronation, I mean for his Coronation. It is ‘Coronation’ isn’t it? Or is that just the chicken dish?

      Nanny? I’m under-caffeinated again… and my medication’s off… and I think that my adult nappy may have leaked… Nanny? Where are you, Nanny?


    1. Ship ship huzzah! Three chairs for the Captain! Maybe the lovely wee beastie had escaped from someone’s bathtub? Happens sometimes if the staff are distracted or ill-trained. I once had my valet give me ducks when I quite specifically asked for battleships. Sacked him of course, and made sure certain that he never worked in the personal services industry again.


  4. Thank heaven for small mercies, Ian. Your views are fantastic. I love the ginger trees. Is it my imagination, but are the autumn colours brighter this year? Anyway, your views are better than the neighbour’s brick wall.
    And the baby boat is so cute!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Possibly the best thing about the views from the Cardinal is that I can change them at whim. Some moorings have superb views, others are perhaps more humdrum. I do wonder what variety of Winter we will receive this year – good, bad, or just ugly. It has most certainly become colder in the past couple of days. Mr Stove and I are in negotiations.

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