Bromsgrove Highlights

"Friendship is unnecessary, like philosophy, like art...it has no survival value; rather it is one of those things that give value to survival."  ~ C.S. Lewis, British novelist, scholar, broadcaster, 1989-1963

     In early February friends Jennie and Chris Gash (NB Tentatrice) came to pick me up for a short stay at their home in Bromsgrove. We had planned this visit some months back and it came at a time when I was feeling lower than worm's belly button with the first anniversary of Les' death just behind me and the first anniversary of his cremation looming in front of me on February 14th.
     Sunday, February 4th dawned crisp and clean. It was to be the last really mild winter day we in Britain would have for some weeks to come. Jennie and Chris picked me up early in the afternoon. The drive down to Bromsgrove was interesting as I was astonished to see canals weaving all around their home town. Well of course Bromsgrove is on the outskirts of Birmingham so there is that, but the Stratford-Upon-Avon canal is also nearby as is the northern Grand Union and the Droitwich canal is close as well, where NB Tentatrice is harbored over winter at Droitwich Spa Marina.
     Jennie was kind enough to offer the use of her washer and dryer so laundry commenced and a Chinese take away was ordered for dinner. After dinner more wine was poured, stories were told and pictures came out of boxes and cupboards, refreshing memories and adding another layer to the story of their lives. Chris was a navigator in the RAF and they were posted to more than ten sites in his career. Jennie was also in the RAF and that is how they met! I saw a brilliant photograph of the two of them in their late mid to late twenties, about to board a Vulcan bomber. Chris and Jennie were the only married couple to have ever flown in one together. I hope they have it framed and hang it on the wall. It is an absolutely amazing photo and they both look like models in an advert for joining the RAF.
     Monday Jennie and I had a Girl's Day Out while Chris opted to stay home with Monty the Border collie and chill out. First we went to National Trust's Baddesley Clinton Manor. The turn in the weather arrived as predicted with temperatures just below freezing; sharp, sunshine and frosty cold. The written history of Baddesley Clinton goes back to the 12th century. Prior to the Domesday Book's writing there was no distinctive place known as Clinton Baddesley. It was a part of the Forest of Arden, and owned by Baedde, a Saxon who cleared the forest to make room for his house. By 1066 it was owned by someone named Leuvinus and William the Conquerer stripped him of the land to pass it on as spoils of war. A bishop and knight named Geoffrey de Wirce from the village of Mobrai in Normandy fought with William the Conqueror, became his advisor and gained  280 English manors (land the size of a village) and titles, one of which was the land at Hampton-in-Arden as it was then known. After Geoff's death in 1088 his lands and titles were passed on to his nephew Robert de Mowbray Earl of Northumberland. Robert was imprisoned for treason in 1096 for making war against William Rufus, King William II. Pardoned for his behavior and allowed to keep his title and lands, but Robert did not learn his lesson though he did ride out in one of the crusades. A monk named Orderic Vitalis who knew Robert many years later described him thus:  
"Powerful, rich, bold, fierce in war, haughty, he despised his equals and, swollen with vanity, disdained to obey his superiors. He was of great stature, strong, swarthy and hairy. Daring and crafty, stern and grim, he was given more to meditation than speech, and in conversation scarce ever smiled". (Ordericus Vitalis, The Ecclesiastical History of England and Normandy, Vol. III, trans. Thomas Forester (London: Henry G. Bohn, 1854), pp. 17-18)
     In 1095 Mowbray took part in another rebellion which objective was to stop the succession of the crown to the conqueror's sons and pass it to Stephen of Aumale. For his efforts Robert of Mowbray was taken from his stronghold at Bamburgh Castle, and imprisoned for many years at Windsor before finally being released to become a monk in his later years. He died without issue in 1125 and the house and grounds in Warwickshire were passed on to Robert's brother Nigel de Abigny who married his deceased brother's wife. The land remained in the de Mowbray family for four generations before being sold to Walter de Bisenge whose Great granddaughter Mazera married Thomas de Clinton in 1225 and the lands and house passed into the Clinton family. Three generations passed and it was sold to a Coventry merchant named Nicholas Dudley who sold the property in 1400 to Robert Burdet and his wife Joan. On her husband's death Joan enfeoffed three men all named John: John Dugdale, John Sperman and John Brome. An enfeoff is a feudal term for essentially renting a room in a manor house or castle or a bit of land to someone in return for their fealty and willingness to defend said house and land in time of war. Now, while these three men were living on the estate, it was sold several times until it ended up at last in the hands of John Brome who was listed in 1438 as the "lord of said manor." John was murdered in at White friars, London in 1468 by one John Herthill and the house passed to his son Nicholas. Nick had a temper; he avenged his fathers death by killing  Herthill as well as a local parish priest who had the audacity to flirt with his wife and was caught in the act by Nicholas. At his death in 1513 the property passed to his two daughters, one of which signed her half over to her sister and her husband Sir Edward Ferrers. The house remained the Ferrers family for twelve generations. The estate was sold in 1937 to Mr. Edmund Walker from Knowle who eventually gave it to the National Trust.
     Originally this home was a moated manor with a drawbridge--obviously built for defense. Most of the present day house is from the 15th century with a few timbers and walls still left from the 13th century. There is a cellar passage reached by a trap door in the brew house under th south side of the moat. This passage travels through the house within the walls to exit near the North Gateway. This is an important detail because all of the owners and inhabitants of Baddesley Clinton have been Catholics.

 A view from the Northeast of the moat and the bridge which was a drawbridge at one time.

Interior courtyard with entrance to the kitchen/scullery which is now the main entrance.

The left inside of the courtyard. The old wooden door was the original entrance to the house.

Kitchen/scullery. the left out of site is one of the priest holes that leads to the sewers.

Maine drawing room with fantastic fire place. Photograph by Mike Peel (www.mikepeel.net)

The stairs lead to a priest hole hidden behind sliding paneling and the fireplace. This is known as the moat room for its location adjacent to the bridge on the north side of the house.

The actual space behind the fireplace and paneling.

The library where Nicholas Brome murdered the parish priest for flirting with his wife.

One bookshelf in the library. My hands itched to pull books and peruse their pages!

So many books....no, no! Mustn't touch!!

Looking down inside one of the priest holes.

The 13th  century garderobe room. The trap door is located underneath the large chest at the end of the room with the candle in front of it. In the 17th century is was used as a sacristy. The door on the right leads to the Catholic chapel. 

The chapel with its beautiful panels covering the walls right, painted on calfskin.

The large leather painted panels up close.

Armorial windows were installed beginning in the 17th century with the Ferrers. The armorial designs provide detail of each Ferrer and his chosen wife.

    The cellar passage was originally a sewer, designed to be flooded periodically by raising the level of the water in the moat which would carry most of it away. As the water level was lowered again a servant would access steps at the far end of the passageway and brush it out. Catholicism was outlawed outright in 1580 after decades of seesawing back and forth with Henry VIII's break with Rome over his marriage to Anne Boleyn, Henry's death and the succession of his son who died at the age of thirteen to be followed to the throne by Mary--Henry's daughter with his first wife Catherine who was a staunch Catholic, and finally under the reign of Elizabeth I, a Protestant.
     By 1580 one could be executed for practicing Catholicism and anyone missing an Anglican service was fined £20 per month. To put this in perspective, twenty pounds in 1580 is equivalent to £ 3,300.00 today! After 1589 any priest ordained abroad since 1559 and discovered on English soil was branded a traitor and his lay host became a felon both punishable by death. In 1593 Catholics could travel no more than fie miles from home without forfeiting all property and had to apply for a license for travel from local authorities if they desired to leave their hamlet, village, town, or city. Catholic rites and services were banned and priests, if found, were executed. It was under these conditions that Catholics--especially priests--were welcomed and offered sanctuary at Clinton Baddesley. The sewer passage became a hiding place and a means of escape from authorities who visited known Catholic sympathizers frequently in the hopes of finding anything and anyone which might allow them to arrest the owners. 
     It was not uncommon for up to eleven priests to hide at a moment's notice, by climbing down a rope, hand over hand to the bottom of a bolt hole into the sewer where they might have to wait for days on end as the house was searched and watched. They had to be very careful not to leave anything behind--not a rosary, a robe, or a missal. Sixteenth century architect Nicholas Owen supported his faith by building priest holes in the manor houses and castles of staunch Catholics. Clinton Baddesley has four such holes built by Owen; two connect to the sewer which eventually led to the north gatehouse. One is located in the pantry area of the servant's kitchen, one is located in a downstairs "moat room" behind movable paneling next to a fireplace, and the third leads into the ceiling and is said to hold up to six people. The fourth was located on the second floor in the Garderobe which in medieval times was a room with a shaft that dropped from a hole in a bench to a shaft on an outer wall, allowing one to release one's waste which dropped down the shaft and out to the ground or the moat as the case may be. Since fresh air came in via the shaft, bringing the pong of poo with it, it was thought a good place to hang one's garments in order to fill lice infestations! In the 16th century at Baddesley Clinton a rope was hung from a cross bar over the top of this hole and a secret wooden hatch was fitted over the opening to mask it and a large wooden chest was placed over the top. The garderobe was located adjacent to the room used as an altar for prayer and worship, making it easy for contraband persons to move the chest, open the hole and climb down to the sewer passage at the bottom while a family member put every thing back together, smoothed their hair, straightened their clothes, took a deep breath and marched off to greet the priest hunters pounding on the gatehouse door.
     Warwickshire was a hot bed of Catholicism. William Shakespeare's family were Catholics and related to the gentry at Arden Castle by his mother Mary Arden. Catholic servants, peasants, gentility and nobility all looked out for one another across the country. In 1603 Henry Ferrers was serving as the Sheriff of Rutland and an MP for Cirencester though he had long since sold his land in the area. It is thought Henry may have been involved in the Gun Powder Plot. (For those who are not familiar with British history you can read about this "explosive" moment in history by clicking on the link in purple.) Henry owned the house next door to the Houses of Parliament acquired by plotter Thomas Percy in 1604. Guy Fawkes stored the gun powder which gave this plot its name in Percy's house yet once the traitors had been caught, the barrels of gunpowder sitting under the floor or parliament confiscated and moved to safety, and those held responsible sentenced to death, not a mote of suspicion attached itself to Henry Ferrers and proceedings were never taken against him. 
     After lunch at the cafe Jennie and I walked up the rutted dirt lane known as the Heart of England Way to the parish church of St. Micheal. There has been a church on this site since 1305, originally dedicated to St. James it was changed to St. Michael sometime in the 19th century.
    Nicholas Brome (c.1450-1517) was Lord of the Manor of Baddesley Clinton and lived in the
    house. One day in 1485, he came home and surprised a man in the parlour “chockinge” (stroking)
   Brome’s wife Elizabeth “under ye chinne”. Enraged, Brome drew his sword and killed him, only to
   discover he had murdered the Rector of St James. There is a bloodstain on the floor of the library
   which may, or may not, be where the murder occurred. In penance for this act Brome built the
   towers of this church and of the church at nearby Packwood. They are sometimes known as the
   “Towers of Atonement”. He also stipulated in his will that he should be buried in the porch of the
   church: "standing up right within the church door so that people may tread upon me as they enter."
   In 1870, during the restoration of the church, the tomb was opened and remains were found in an
   upright position. (The National Trust website: https://www.nationaltrust.org.uk/baddesley-clinton/features/st-michaels-church-baddesley-clinton; accessed March 12th, 2018.)

The Heart of England Way or the rutted lane to St. Michael's parish church from Baddesley Clinton Manor house.

The front of St. Michael overlooking the graves of countless generations of parishioners.

The interior of this bijoux church is bright and inviting. The ceiling is 17th century woodwork.

The Lords of Baddesley are buried under the floor stone in the chancel which has its original 15th century coffered roof.

      There is a lot more history surrounding this manor up to the 1930's but I don't have room to share it all so you will have to make a trip to Baddesley Clinton yourself! You won't be disappointed. My deepest thanks to friends Chris and Jennie Gash for driving all the way up to Cheshire, scooping me up, sharing their lovely home with me and showing me a lovely time. Much love to you both as your summer cruising moves forward.
      

Sunshine Time

"When the sun  is shining I can do anything; no mountain is too high, not trouble too difficult to overcome." ~Wilma Rudolph, American track & Field Olympian

     It has been unseasonably hot and sunny here for the last few days. I took the opportunity to get some chores done. My wardrobe and drawers are now tidy with summer clothes out and winter clothes packed away. I changed the oil this morning for the first time all by myself. 

     For those who do not live on a boat, imagine: lifting the hood (bonnet for Brits) of the car, climbing inside next to the engine and squatting down, laying everything out on top of the engine, turning sideways, and then pumping the old oil out into a container, cleaning up the drips and removing the oil filter with a tool that looks like some modified gynecological surgeon's instrument. The filter is located on the side of the engine so it drips out and makes a mess; I clean up the mess, rub clean oil on the rubber gasket of the new oil filter, screw it in place, hoist a 5 liter bottle of clean oil up and pour it in without spilling it all over, remember to put the oil cap back on the engine, gather up all the gloopy detritus into a garbage bag, remove my rubber gloves, lay clean bed liners under the engine, wipe everything down with Huggies nappy wipes, wait for the spasms in my neck, arms and side to pass, untwist my pretzelated self and climb out from under the hood. Job done!!!

     I needed a shower so I stripped down and while I was showering several boats rocketed past at the speed of sound and suddenly I was bouncing off the shower walls like a fart in a skillet, my eyes squeezed shut, shampoo running down my face and the entire boat rocking like a mechanical bull in a Texas bar! A passing boat pulled my back mooring pin out and the rear of the boat went AWOL from the tow path, all unknown to me. I rinsed off, shut off the water, climbed out of the tub like a decrepit drunk on a three day bender, threw a towel around myself and opened the bathroom door to the sound of a mooring pin being hammered in very close by. I had left the rear hatch open for ventilation and sunshine. Just as I dropped my towel to slip on some undies a shadow appeared looking down my hatch and a deep male voice called, "Hello??? Hello???? Your mooring pin came loose and I pinned it back in oh god sorry!!!" 

     We both got more than we bargained for...and there you have it-- the perfect sunny spring day in England.

The Beast From the East Has Arrived!!

"The snow doesn't give a soft white damn whom it touches." ~E.E. Cummings, American poet, painter, essayist, author and playwright; 1894-1962.

 (Many, many thanks to blog reader Steve Hicks  who found my blog at Feedly and there it was--the missing post which I accidentally deleted! Steve emailed it to me and here it is, restored!!) 

  

     Where shall I begin? With the weather I suppose. For those not living through it here in Britain, here is a synopsis of what has occurred: a disturbance in the upper atmosphere caused the Jet Stream, which flows west to east, to change direction and flow east to west, carrying bitter cold weather and high winds out of Siberia, across Finland, Denmark, Northern Germany and onward to the UK. It struck the East coast of Scotland and England on Tuesday, February 27th, bringing snow and plunging temperatures with amber and red warnings by the weather service. An amber warning over here is a weather caution: pay attention and be prepared. A red warning means loss of life can occur; stay home if at all possible. A warm, wet front named Emma, coming up from the coast of Africa and sweeping up over Western Europe was set to shake hands and dance with The Beast over Southwestern England and Southeastern Wales Thursday or Friday last, dumping loads of snow, drifted dangerously by high winds of up to 75 MPH. And so it has come to pass. People have been stuck in tailbacks as they are called over here, on the motorways for eighteen hours in blinding snow and ferocious winds.The entire train service in this country ground to a halt s it is electric and ice on the lines means the trains cannot run. Snow piles up on the tracks as well and impedes the journey. Folks were stranded in trains for days in some parts of the country.
    Up here in east Cheshire on the border with west Shropshire we had several inches of snow on Tuesday which was blown away by a bitter cold, scouring wind roaring on continually four four and a half days. Day four (Friday, March 2nd), and the high was 34F/1C degrees; the low according to my outdoor thermometer was 17F/-8C. The constant wind and the wet cold make this a far more bone chilling experience than similar temperatures in Alaska or Eastern Washington where I have lived previously. Dry cold does not penetrate all three layers of clothing and all five layers of skin to sink into one's bones like this wet cold does.

Two drakes fighting outside the boat.

A man in a Nantwich street with a Penny Farthing bicycle!

The snowy scene on my walk to the bus station the first morning of the storm, on my way to a job interview in Chester.

     I had to brave the first day of the storm to attend a job interview in Chester. The appointment time was 11:45 am but I left home at 8:30 am. I know how gnarly transportation becomes in poor weather over here so early is always best. It took me thirty minutes to walk to the center of town and the bus station. Two buses failed to show and were delayed by over forty minutes. I caught an alternative bus at 10:00 am. It stopped in Chester after wending its way through every small village and hamlet between Chester and Nantwich. Eventually we made it and I was fifteen minutes early for my interview. By the time the return bus dropped me at Welsh Row at 3:00 pm and I began the forward and left leaning walk along the embankment to the boat, I was tired and cold. The canal embankment sits high up above the town with no protection from the weather. The snow was blowing sideways in flurries and the wind was like an animal gnashing at my face and plucking at my outdoor clothing. I was never so grateful to get back to NB Valerie--warm as toast, dry, and home sweet home.

    Wednesday morning Tesco delivered groceries to me while they still could so that was sorted. Thursday in weather not fit for man 'nor beast, fuel boat Halsall came through after braving the twenty one locks on the Audlem flight and breaking ice in the less exposed sections of the cut, to load ten bags of coal on the roof and fill the diesel tank. I take my hat off to Roberta and Lee, along with Amy and James, Ann Marie and Brian on NB Alton, and all the other fuel boat women and men like Jules and Richard on their boat Towcester and Ryan Dimmock on his boat Southern Star down on the Grand Union and North Oxford. They along with the dozen or so other boats and owners plying their trade in all weathers across 2000 miles of canal system are my heroes, to quote Pip who said it on her blog first! Many thanks for your hard graft.

     I had a half tank of water and I was using it frugally to make it last as this winter storm wasn't set to blow itself out until sometime after last weekend. In the meantime there is nothing for it but to hunker down and wait it out, which I did but it does wear me down and make me feel blue and antsy. I took my first ever sponge bath using nappy wipes. Better than the alternative which was nothing. Before the storm hit I had been moored up for nearly a week at Henhull, north of Nantwich. I was sussing out whether or not it was a good place to access the bus down to Chester when the weather warnings started rolling in and I decided to turn and head back into Nantwich to moor up where I was surrounded by other boaters, could walk to the shops and town and moor up safely. It was a good move. While moored here I got to know some of my fellow boaters.    

    

Moored  up at Henhull Bridge.

There is Bob on NB Leopard. He is eighty-something years old and has had his permanent mooring near the playground in Nantwich for nineteen years! I called on him during the storm to check that he was okay. He has a car and offered to drive me anywhere I might need to go. Bob also has a generator which he offered to loan me should I need it. This is what boaters are like.  I went out for a walk on Sunday when the winds died down but the temperature was still pretty frosty.  I met John on NB Serenity. He was walking to the shop with his hand truck in tow for coal. A Brit born and raised, John is employed by Holland tractors and is based most of the year in Pennsylvania, USA. He has a home and a family there and has lived there for over twenty five years. John bought his narrow boat for a place to live when his company brought him back to Britain to work for three months each year. He is retired now but kept the boat and spends six months of the year here on the cut and the other six months in the States. I also met Julia on NB Shamwarna. She and her family live aboard on a permanent online mooring. We had a towpath chat about the permanent moorings in Nantwich. Harder to get then Hen's teeth, and fairly pricey. She pays £140.00 a month for the privilege of mooring on the embankment with no electric, water or rubbish. this means they have to go for services every two weeks which takes about three hours each time as they have to turn the boat around at the nearest winding hole to arrive back at their mooring again. I have been toying with the idea of taking a permanent online mooring if I could get one. It would make traveling for work a lot easier, but then, but then I would be place bound even more than I currently am so I am still mulling it over.
   On a separate theme of visitors I must catch up.  First a hello to the folks on NB Bessie Surtees whom I don't know by name but who have passed me twice. the lovely woman on board called out to me that she reads this blog and she wished me well. Thank you for following along and for your good wishes. I hope you and your man are moored up somewhere safe and staying warm.

    Ken and Sue Deveson of NB Cleddau stopped in two weeks ago on their way from Aqueduct Marina where they checked on the progress of their boat being painted. As always it was lovely to see you both. I was so looking forward to a nice lunch and a good natter to catch up with you two; I am so sorry our visit was cut short by my feeling ill.

   Several days later Angela And Steve of NB Tumbleweed came over for lunch and we had a lovely afternoon visit. It was great to see you both and share an afternoon together.

Pip and Mick from NB Oleanna.

Finally Pip and Mick on NB Oleanna were moored up back near the canal centre and they walked up to say hello. We met briefly at Westport Lake in October, but know we had several hours to have a good chinwag and get to know each other. Then I walked down to visit on their boat on Sunday and to meet the lovely boat cat Tilly.  Mick and Pip are typical boaters if there is such a person; down to earth, wonderful sense of humor, and great stories of another life before they moved aboard their first boat Lilianne.  Pip writes a wonderful blog. How I wish Les were alive. He would have so enjoyed meeting new friends, catching up with old ones, and waiting for the arrival of the fuel boat. He loved our life on the cut and was never bored or unhappy even in the worst of the weather. I would have enjoyed seeing his reaction to this storm. I have to say life is not much fun without him.
    Anyway NB Valerie is full of water again, I dumped four coal bags of rubbish, and cruised back to Henhull to catch up on five loads of laundry, and take on a Tesco order tomorrow. Then I plan to cruise to Hurleston Junction to moor up. I want to walk up the lock flight there which starts the Llangollen canal and see if it is easy to catch the Arriva 84 bus which travels between Crewe and Chester with a stop at Nantwich. Slowly, slowly I am girding my loins for the trip into Chester. The locks become bigger double locks at Bunbury with the staircase locks there. I plan to stop at the Calvely services for water, etc. and then moor up on the offside back behind the permanent moorings as Bunbury and wait for another boat heading down the locks. It would be helpful indeed to share the locks down to Chester with another boat.

A Springtime Posy: Flowers, Friends and Libraries

"Most things will be okay eventually but not everything will be. Sometimes you will put up a good fight and lose. Sometimes you'll hold on really hard and realize there is no choice but to let go. Acceptance is a small, quiet room." ~ Cheryl Strayed, American author

     Spring I do believe has come at last to Cheshire anyway. Daffodils are in full bloom, small wild

flowers have popped their heads above the cold, wet soil and unfolded their tender petals. It is daylight until after 6:30 in the evening and I've been able to let the fire go out in the daytime and keep it banked quite low overnight. I've also re-potted and organized my garden on the bow. It gives me immense pleasure to look out the front doors and see flowers blooming with messages of love from dear friends; a pot of several different types of flowers and Ivy from Debbie Davies, a porcelain pot of dainty bijou Daffodils from Sue and Ken Deveson, Lavender plants that overwintered under the bow gunwales, and a newly planted pot of Double white scented Daffodils in a porcelain pot with some of Les' ashes in it. My bow garden is filled with love given and received.
    It is an interesting week to be moored up at Nantwich. There is a convocation of working boats at Ellesmere Port for Easter weekend. Due to the Middlewich breach many boats have had to reroute themselves and come all the way from Middlewich up the Chester locks of Heartbreak Hill on the Trent & Mersey, through Stone, and then right onto the Staffordshire and Worcestershire canal (Staff & Worcs) at Great Haywood Junction, along the Staff and Worcs to Authorley Junction, onto the Shropshire Union (the Shroppie) and down through Nantwich and on down to Ellesmere Port. This weekend there is also a Jazz Festival in Nantwich. The cut has become a frenzy of huge working boats gliding by, sucking the water out from underneath the moored boats as they pass, brasses shining, and livery aglow, and a raucous mix of hire boats, continuous cruisers and leisure boaters out for toddle in the milder weather. Among this bracing mix two boats stand out: Tumbleweed No. 5, Angela and Steve's abode moored up five boats in front of me, and NB Serena moored up directly behind me with Judith and John Emery at home.

Steve and Angela took me to the store with them yesterday and afterward they came over and we introduced one another to a couple of good games. They brought Continuo which is an abstract strategy and small tile placement game. After the initial setup of four tiles, players take turns adding tiles onto the edges of previously laid tiles, scoring points for creating aligned paths of colors. One point is awarded for each smaller square in a new path giving a score of 2 to 30 or more depending upon the length of the path. Play continues until all tiles have been used. The highest score wins. It only takes about a half an hour to play with 1-5 players. One can play alone like Solitaire and it is a good way to keep the gray matter working so I hope to purchase this game soon. I introduced Angela and Steve to the "railroad game" as Les call his favorite board game; properly known as the Great Game of Britain. I had a great time hanging out with Steve and Angela, both of whom are great fun to be around. 

     Ken and Sue Deveson popped in this morning for a visit while in the area to check on their boat NB Cleddau which is being painted at Aqueduct Marina on the Middlewich Branch--not the par with the breach but this near end of the branch--than goodness! As always happens with the Deveson's we were following the threads of several fascinating conversations when sue looked out the window at a passing narrow boat and exclaimed, Jaq that's NB Serena--aren't she owned by the woman who comments on your blog?" Up I jumped, threw open a window and hollered "NB Valerie!!!" to the bloke on the tiller which happened to be Judith Emory's husband John. He nodded and pulled in behind me in what surely must be the only  mooring spot left in Nantwich! It was meant to be. Soon the Emory's came to NBV and with mugs of coffee and tea all around, our chins were wagging about all kinds of boaty things from mooring pins to who fell in the cut where, and how many times. We were amazed to discover that John and Judith have a home in Pembroke and know the river Cleddau well. Sue and Ken were born in Pembroke and Pembroke Dock and their boat is named after the river Cleddau. Small world!It was lovely to meet up with John and Judith at long last. for the past year we have been near but not close enough for our bows to meet--or our sterns as is now the case. Imagine our amazement when Sue realize we had been chatting for two hours and toilets were not mentioned once!! this must surely be a first for any group of boaters!
     This next item is just an odds 'n' sods kind of thing: usually when I purchase raw prawns or large shrimp at the store, I look for cold water prawns and I eschew buying any farmed shrimp or anything caught in warm waters off the coast of Bangladesh, Thailand or Viet Nam for example. Why??? I read a book some years ago called The World Without Us by Alan Weisman. In it he chooses six locations around the world and details exactly what would happen if all human life disappeared from our planet over night. Then he points out the degradation our planet is suffering under the relentless human greed that rules our world and our careless throw-away mentality especially with regard to plastics, that is killing other life and destroying our ecosystems. It is one of the most important books ever written and one of the most insightful books I've ever read. In its pages I learned about the floating masses of human sewage miles and miles wide just off the coasts of several countries in the Indian and Pacific oceans, the bacteria and viruses which live in them, and how these miles wide mats of untreated sewage affect marine life. It was all I needed to know to make educated choices about what I eat and where it comes from.     That said, I wanted to make a prawn fettuccine and Aldi only had warm water shrimp, already cooked, from Viet Nam. I sighed and gave in, buying 500 grams of cooked prawns. I took them home, refrigerated them for the next night's dinner and thought no more of it. It was late when I decided to fix dinner--about eight O'clock which is very late indeed for an American. We usually eat dinner between 5:00 and 6:00 PM. The lights were off in the boat except for a wall light in the saloon above Les' recliner. I opened the fridge, removed the bag of shrimp, shut the door and lo and behold--the bag of shrimp in my hand was glowing--I kid you not!! I tried to take a picture of it in the dark but I couldn't capture the glow. The entire bag was fluorescing and it creeped me out. I couldn't being myself to eat the glow-in-the-dark prawns so I tore open the bag and tipped the shrimp into the cut where they continued to glow as they slowly sunk to the bottom. The bag, filled with shrimp juice, glowed eerily in my hand. I put it in the trash and decided to forgo dinner all together. Several hours later I opened the galley rubbish bin to throw away a Kleenex and found myself shocked to see the empty shrimp bag still glowing away, nestled down in the depths of the bin. I've eaten seafood all my life and I've never come across fluorescing prawns before. I am back to looking for cold water prawns. If I want fluorescing seafood I'll buy some glow-in-the-dark Crayons and draw my own.     Libraries: Many thanks to a member of the Wednesday Women and dear friend Rhea Giffin in Coeur 'd' Alene, Idaho for sharing her discovery of the Gladstone Library. Located in Hawarden, North Wales, about eight miles outside of the city of Chester, this is the UK's only residential and prime ministerial library, begin by Gladstone himself to share his collection of over 150,000 books with the public. 
     Sleeping with books!! Gladstone's Library with twenty-six en-suite rooms. If you ever had a fantasy about sleeping overnight in the library you can book a room here, visit the library and bring your books back to your room to read! This is the UK's only residential library and its only Prime Ministerial library, founded by Gladstone himself to provide access by the public to more than 150,000 books. Residents staying on the grounds have access to the library form 9 AM-10 PM. There is a bistro on site, Food For Thought which serves breakfast, lunch and dinner. There are reading rooms available and ongoing events and courses throughout the year such as, Blue Sky God: the Evolution of Science and Christianity, Making the Personal Political: An Evening With Writer in Residence Cal Flynn, Taming Shakespeare, Democracy and Its Crisis with A.C. Grayling, Greek, Hebrew, Latin or Welsh in a Week: learn to carry on a conversation in one of these languages by studying for one week. It is assumed attendees will have no prior abilities in their chosen language; Brexit, Trump and the Common Good. Gladstone's Library seeks to offer safe, open meeting space for ideological conversations to occur about many of the larger themes with which our world finds itself grappling.
     The next library on my list to visit is located at Dunham Massey on the Bridgewater canal and is a National Trust property of 3000 acres with a spectacular manor house and others buildings as well as a substantial garden and a Deer Park. Les took me there in 2012. We didn't go in to the house which cost money, but one can wander around the grounds for free and it took most of the day to do just that. Currently there is a tour focusing on the women of the estate titled, "Dunham Massey: A Woman's Place?" The tour begins with the library because it was the room of utmost importance to Lady Mary Booth.      Written history notes that there has been a dwelling of some kind here since before 1066 when it was owned by Aelfward, a Saxon thegn. After the Norman Conquest the land was given to Hamo d Masci. His family owned it until 1409 when the male line died out. The property was then inherited by the Booth family. Mary Booth, born in 1704 was the first woman to inherit and manage the estate. She was taught at home in the library and many of the books reflect her father's desires for her education, with dedications written inside books from him to Mary who was fluent in French by age eight and a competent translator by age thirteen. She was educated in languages, natural philosophy, morality, fine writing and conduct, estate management, account keeping, and business arithmetics in which she was proficient by age fifteen. Mary's personal handwritten notebooks survive, filled with her thoughts on the literature she had just perused. Married at age thirty-two Mary inherited this vast estate when she was fifty-four and managed it until her death at age seventy-seven. 
     Dunham Massey is an accredited museum with 30,000 objects--the second largest collection in the National Trust. There are a number of scientific implements in the library including an Orerry made by Thomas Wright, instrument maker to King George II which is designed to illustrate the relative positions and movement of the planets around our sun. At the far end of the library, above the fireplace, is a painting of the crucifixion by Tintoretto. There are 119 shelves of books in Dunham Massey's library. Mary has a strong interest in medicine and medical procedures as evidenced by books in the collection and historical evidence bears out the fact that Mary's mother underwent a mastectomy on the premises in 1729. She personally negotiated with the Duke of Bridgewater's agents to ensure the canal brought it advantages to her and her tenants.
     One final odd bit: I saw a conversational strand on a FaceBook page recently about outdoor laundry facilities having been installed near the cut in Leighton Buzzard! Looking into it further I found the company that owns the machines is called Kis Wash and they have installed what we Americans call laundromats out of doors across Britain! Several boaters have used them with great success and found them to be very handy so I thought I would share this on the blog for any boaters who may be interested. Their web site needs a bit of work: the Find a location near you map does not actually do what it it should--instead it takes one to a page to fill in information for contacting them about installing the machines or receiving service assistance. Hopefully they will get that sorted soon.
Post Script: I have had to take this post down and re-write it as Blogger did weird things when it posted and some pictures were missing. when I opened it up and chose revert to draft Blogger changes all my fonts, lost some of text, pictures were jumping around, and even now I can only place the pictures in the middle of the page and I cannot add captions! Blinkin' Blogger!!  

What's Going On?

"Time is a sort of river of passing events, and strong is its current; no sooner is a thing brought to sight than it is swept by and another takes its place, and this too will be swept away." ~Marcus Aurelius, Roman Emperor, 161-180 ACE

     What can I say? First of all many gracious thanks to everyone--boaters and land lovers--who contacted me after the Middlewich breach occurred, to ascertain whether or not I was affected and if I was all right. I am on the Shropshire Union and have been for the past month so I am okay in that respect. 
     Some of you may have noticed the absence of my last post. I was attempting to clean up some Blogger stuff and accidentally deleted my last post titled "The Beast From the East." Sorry Pip and Mick, Steve and Angela, Phil and Mike and the others who left comments for me. If I could ge it back I would but I don't think that is possible. 
     Time is strange in its passing for me. Each day seems to drag by so slowly and yet all of a sudden four weeks have passed and I have yet to post anything. I still have to talk myself into getting out of bed and facing a new day. Those slow passing days are consumed minute by minute by me attempting to figure out how to move forward into a life I did not ask for and don't want; a life without Les in it. March 19th was his seventy-first birthday and March 24th he will have been dead fifteen months. From mid December on to mid March I have felt as though the world was tilted on its axis and I was sliding into a major depression from which nothing could rescue me. Buffeted by doubts about getting on my feet and moving forward--not just here but in two countries, I've suffered profound regrets at choices made and changes embraced without any real worry about my future. I gambled on trusting the universe with my fate--and I've lost. I am frustrated at how hard it has been to find a job. Actually I've found quite a few and applied for eight, interviewed for a couple but not gotten a single one of them. Back in the States I have always gotten every single job I've ever applied for and wanted but the last time I applied for employment in America was seventeen years ago. I think being a sixty year old woman is counting against me. Employers want fresh school leavers (high school graduates), or young people with newly minted degrees. I am now a part of the invisible generation. I don't feel old, and I don't think of myself as old, but when I look in the mirror without my personal preconceived ideas about who I am, I see an older women staring back at me. I guess this is what employers see as well. All of my education and experience doesn't count for much over here. The other trend counting against me is that applications and all the rest are on-line now and some mathematical algorithm determines whether or not I am worth bothering to interview. I miss the days when one actually went to the place seeking to hire, spoke with a live person face-to-face, filled out an application by hand, turned it in, and then hopefully interviewed and got the job.   

     I seriously considered selling the boat and moving back to the States despite the fact life would be only marginally easier there as it is my country of birth. But I would have to start all over from the ground floor literally as I walked away from my home in Pullman in 2011, losing $40, 000.00 in a crappy market economy in which houses were not selling. Returning now I would have to buy a car, pay a premium on insurance because I have not been insured in the last two years, find a place to live, and find a job--hopefully one that offered decent health care insurance and one which would not count being a cancer survivor as a pre-existing condition which was the case when I moved over here. Yes, I know this issue is supposed to have gone away with Obama Care but I also know many people who are still without insurance due to this issue. Companies find their way around all the laws they can when it means making a profit. I would be giving up a life I love, one I dreamed of before ever meeting Les, and one filled with so many wonderful memories of Les and I together. One thing I do know about rebuilding life (Yes, I've done it more than once; in fact I've done it four times) is that nothing much happens until one chooses a path and stakes a commitment to it. I am my own worse enemy in this respect, and I need to make a decision and come to an acceptance of life as it is. This is how I've been feeling since December. Now with the actual arrival of spring, the longer days splashed with a bit of sunshine and visitors galore, my spirits are lifted.  Having neighbors like Elsie and Eric nearby makes me feel at home here in Cheshire.   

     Elsie and Eric Fletcher on NB Bendigedig called me a couple of weeks ago to ask if they could come and visit. Of course! One partly sunny day they showed up when I was moored at Hurleston Junction. After a cup of tea we walked back up the flight together and they were kind enough to take me to lunch at a lovely place, Alderford Lake, near Whitchurch. The cafe overlooks a lovely lake where one can swim, canoe, or saunter along the edges. Inside the cafe building is also a bijou gift shop with some really pretty items and outside plants of all kinds are for sale. After lunch we drove to Whixall Marina where Eric and Elsie live aboard their boat. It is a truly lovely spot on the Prees Arm of the Llangollen Canal. Thank you both for your fine company and for a lovely day out seeing the beautiful Borders countryside. 
     About four days later I had two more visitors and of course in true Biggs' style I forgot to take their picture. Ah well, it was Robert Rogers and his sister-in-law Sharon. Robert used to own wide beam Wind in the Willows. He is one of the many lovely souls we met on the cut and he became a steadfast friend--and really more like family to me and Les. After grappling with the difficulty of staying in England and living aboard his lovely boat or giving up his life here and becoming a British ex-pat in Brazil, he chose a new life in South America, marrying his lovely Roseni and living a stone's throw from the Pacific Ocean. Robert's work brings him back to England several times a year and he was kind enough to come find me and to bring his lovely sister-in-law with him. Time spent with Robert is always deeply spiritual and satisfyingly soulful and I hit it off with Sharon as well. Thank you both for blessing me with your company, and for removing the old chimney and putting the new one in place. And thanks Robert for the figurine. It means more than words can say. 
     Last Friday Debbie Davies of NB Tickety Boo drove down from Liverpool to spend the day with me. Debbie followed Les' blog prior to his meeting me. Then she followed my blog "So This is Love" avidly. She continued to tag along with us as Les and I blogged together. I discovered her blog in 2009 and followed it closely from the States, waiting eagerly for each new post and enjoying her writing and beautiful pictures. Les and I always hoped to get up to Liverpool to meet her. Now that I am based in Cheshire, I was close enough for Deb to come and find me. What a a wonderful day we had together! The two of us are kindred spirits. We have shared experiences in common, and as I sat listening to Debbie talk about nearly giving up her boat  and then deciding that she loved her life aboard too much to sell up, as we chatted about what living on a boat is like as women who live on our boats alone, and all the things that need doing, and all the amazing things Debbie has done to her boat to make it the lovely home it is, I began to compare our conversation with one I had with Robert, talking about the logistics of selling up and moving back to the States. I knew suddenly that I am where I belong no matter how difficult life may seem at present. As soon as I get a job I will be all right. I will even be able to move forward on my own without Les. I may not like it, but I will find joy in life once more and part of that is staying on NB Valerie and making the best of the situation I have been dealt. So I offer soul deep thanks to Robert and Debbie for reaching out to me, and listening with their hearts while I poured out my own, and thanks to Eric and Elsie for ttheir welcome company and cwtchs. That's Welsh for hugs.
     Part of my dissatisfaction with life has been the realization that I am having to become one of those boaters who cruises a short distance in a local area. I am not a bridge hopper and I am not a continuous moorer but I am no longer a continuous cruise cruiser in the sense of the meaning Les and I enjoyed.  I have no choice but to cruise a specific patch of cut in order to access buses to Chester, Nantwich and Crewe to look for work and then hopefully to go to work. I cannot afford to take a marina or on-line mooring. I have considered both and neither are anywhere in range of my pocketbook.  I have been in touch with CRT and I have been assured that as long as I cruise a minimum of 21 miles in a year and don't overstay anywhere without legitimate permission, I will be okay. My circumstances cannot be helped and it is what it is. But I don't like it and I feel guilty for having to do it and for judging others harshly in the past without having any understanding for what their circumstances might have been. So I am working on letting this go as well. 
     At present I am moored up back in Nantwich after having been down as far as Bunbury. I came back up here for doctor's appointments. I am scheduled for a colonoscopy in six weeks which is the soonest Leighton hospital could fit me in. In the meantime I will cruise slowly down to Chester, staying two weeks anywhere I can access the bus. Where I am currently offers a morning alarm clock provided by the Lesser Spotted Woodpecker which wakes me with both its drumming and its call.  At night I am serenaded to sleep by owls calling to each other amidst the canopy of trees along the cut, under the sparkling stars and the waxing crescent moon. Life is all right--for now.  
     

Moored up at Hurelston Junction. the gap is caused by the infamous "Shroppie Shelf," a concrete lip that sticks out about eight inches below the waterline It was originally intended to keep working boats from causing damage to the canal. Now days it is a trial for boaters mooring up because we cannot actually pull in flush to the side of the towpath. This requires the purchase of tire fenders which fill the gap. It also requires me to make a jump to board the boat or risk doing the splits!

Two of mine and Les' favorite boaters: Eric and Elsie who live on board their boat NB Bendigedig which is Welsh for Fantastic. 

Looking down the four locks from the top of the Hurleston flight which starts the Llangollen canal. It is a nice half mile walk from where I moored on the Shroppie at the Junction, up along the locks, across the field and along a very dangerous busy roadway to the bus stop which takes one wither to Nantwich and Crewe or to Chester. The saving grace: Snugbury's Ice Cream farm is just up the road and makes the walk worth it with fifty flavours to choose from!

Standing with the lock flight behind me, looking across the farmer's field towards NB Valerie moored on the Shrophire Union canal, on the right of this picture. 

Looking back at the first lock at the bottom of the Hurleston lock flight.

Standing by the bottom lock on the Hurleston flight and looking at the Junction where the LLangollen meets the Shropshire Union canal. To reach NBV I walked along to the right, over the footbridge and down onto the towpath. 

The footbridge over the Shropshire Union at Hurleston Junction. 

The CRT barge heads off for Calvely in the early morning. 

Robert Rogers gave me this lovely figurine of two swans titled "Together Forever." I cherish it as every time I look at it I see Les in the larger male swan and the way he always tried to look after me. 

The lovely Debbie Davies at lunch--without her glasses!! 

Ruth on NB Mountbatten, breasted up with their butty Jellicoe. She is holding the boats steady while Richard fills my tank with diesel. This is Chamberlain Carrying Company who usually ply their trade on the Llangollen canal. They were headed for the working boat convocation in Chester next weekend and blessed me with an appearance at just the right time. The breach of the Middlewich branch cut off Lee and Roberta on NB Halsall, from their usual carrying route and means they will have to take the long way around each time they run their route now.  

Richard in the process of stacking nine bags of coal on my roof. 

This is how the clothes get dry in winter...

and my first load of clothes hung out to dry in today's lovely sunny, warm spring air!!