Good King Wenceslas looked out (and then said ‘Sod this for a game of tin soldiers’)

Ian Hutson

Fortunately, The Chamberlain Carrying Co were more adventurous, thank’ee most kindly.

Anyone left wondering about the nature of the work involved in supplying fuels and wotnot to boaters in Winter may rest assured; it’s as hard as it looks. That boat’s manually loaded in one go, and then manually unloaded in many, many boat-to-boat stops.

Since the most splendid visit of Mountbatten, Messrs Winterbotham Frostnibble & Icynadgers have moved in with something more of a vengeance. Yonder towpaths aren’t muddy now, they’re sozen frolid.

Moonset (doing little to no justice to the gobsmacking beauty of the scene as presented by the human eye)

Sunrise (sunset, swiftly flow the years) is oft as spectacular as is moonset, especially with yonder rays filtered through some trees.

The ducks agreed to pose for two bread crusts and a promise of Summer to come.

Silly ducks.

There’s a house back beyond that bridge. Nothing unusual there, this being a human planet, but isn’t this one of the most splendid chimney stacks you’ve seen on a “modern” build house?

A display of skill and artistry just for the sake of it.

Most excellent indeed.

The trees are feeling the cold too. This one told me that her name was ‘Doris’ and that in happier days she generally over-wintered in Morocco.

There are – as here in the background – many dead trees hereabouts. All full-size and previously magnifibode, now denuded of their bark from stem to stern. No idea what’s causing it, but it’s having an effect.

Yonder Human species pays scant and wholly insufficient attention to its arboreal chums, and the price will be beyond rubies, beyond pearls, if ways aren’t changed. So long and thanks for all the fish.

The Llangollen canal is a splendid canal, and tis a shame, really, that this wee encruisination has to be curtailed but the stoppages loom and they do loom large.

Once the ice clears convincingly I’ll be scooting back to Pastures Familiaris again, and in particular over The Especially Silly Season (Xmouse and Gnu Year) somewhere to hibernate but with a shop or two within walkery-walkery distance.

After that? Who knows.

Christmas Day Top Of The Pops isn’t worth getting out of bed for these days. Nor shall I be listening to Ol’ Jug-Ears, His Majestravesty, Charles the III’d. Didn’t listen to his mummy, won’t be listening to him.

Chimney pots and coal deliveries. Winter eh?

Chin-chin, chaps.

Ian H., & Cardinal W.

9 Comments

  1. That chimney stack is a joy. I loved the photographs though they made me shiver as memories of frost on the inside of windows and legs roasted in front and frozen behind rose to haunt me.
    Jug ears will not reach here……

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    1. Frost on the inside of windows and ice on the frames is with me again, a ghost from childhood – the Cardinal is single-glazed (being a boat) and (being a boat) has metal window-frames. They require a carefully-timed wipe-off once a morning. Waking up triggers a rapid personal migration the length of the boat, to visit Mr Stove. I plan on flagging down Messrs Chamberlain & Co on their return for yet more coal and a gallon or two of diesel… the way it goes you’d think that I was just burning the stuff!

      How’s life in the far-flung Abroad?

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      1. Warm!
        Lost the internet for a fortnight thanks to an untimely landslide and the sluggish response of the aptly named ICE internet provider which moves at the pace of a sulky glacier.
        Have now changed provider….have noticed one change…the internet does not go out when it rains.

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  2. That chimney stack is glorious! And if I could witness a sunrise like your choice morsel, I might even be tempted to give it a go one morning. But, then again, you’ve saved me from such a shock to the system. For which I thank you.

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    1. It is a proper work of brickwork art, isn’t it? A lingering echo from the days when there were craftsmen, they had pride in their work, and folk were prepared to pay a decent rate to make their world a better place.

      Early mornings can be glorious. They can also be miserable. I pick and choose! 😉

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  3. Can’t say as I’ll be watching Old Toby Jug Head on Chrimbo Day either…mainly because the price of electric’s gone up so much we can’t afford to have the telly on.

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    1. Can you not just tag the cost of electricity onto your claim for heating your swimming pool, stables, and six-car garage? Oh no, hang on – that’s just MPs and those on the Civil List, isn’t it. One wonders how the poor loves get by on just a derisory salary, offshore dividends and all of the bung they can grasp.

      Clutches at pearls and bites a knuckle. Oh, if only the French had invented some clever device to curb Establishment excesses circa 1792…

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  4. I for one will be keeping well away from civilization New Year’s eve as all those feckin fireworks scare the poor dogs.

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