Lewsey uses up another of her 9 lives.

It would seem that Lewsy did not learn her lesson from the last soaking she received. After attempting to bag herself a swan she jumped off the wrong side of Whitewater's boat. His neighbour was alerted by the splash and duly came to tell us that the kitten had gone for a swim... and had disappeared.

The frantic calls for Lewsey roused boaters from the other side of the moorings who came to assist (binoculars and all) for our lost kitten. The swan was looking rather smug and hissing wildly at us, Rob commandeered a canoe, and I ran around in a state of panic rattling boxes of cat biscuits and Lewsey's favourite cat toy. Lolly came to investigate what all the noise was about and just curled up on the pontoon without the faintest bit of concern.

Ten very long minutes passed with no sign of a soggy cat. In a last ditch attempt I leaned right over the edge of the pontoon and called out to her. She replied.

If I could translate the "meows" I would think she said something like "What? I'm curled up on the blocks under the pontoons trying to dry out and get some sleep. Do you mind keeping the noise down a bit?"

The rescue of the cat (who is now not allowed out until she is 18) made a lot of boaters happy. (it gave them a break from the jobs they were supposed to be doing.) I know none of those who helped will ever read this but I do offer them a big hearty thank you and bottles of wine will be coming their way.

The Boaters' Garden. Part 7(ish).


Six baby tits have been born in our old stove I was going to use as a flower pot!

nb TGM springs a leak.

I can only apologise to anyone trying to get some sleep last night. The silence of the evening was broken by the sound of our wet & dry vacuum working on overdrive. After accusing both cats of peeing in the boat and trying not to feel alarmed by Lewsey playing in the puddle, I glanced up far enough to see water seeping up through the floor. I was everso slightly alarmed by this. Our bilge was FULL of water. How long does it take to sink a narrowboat?


Smiles kindly popped by to ask about salvage rights as we were busy bailing out water. I offered him two cats but received a negative response.


It turns out our water pump was leaking. It had kindly refrained from making any auidable pumping water sounds to alert us to this matter, though the boat was beginnng to list port side.

By 11pm we had removed enough water to stop this list and by mid afternoon today the last lot of water was hoovered up. Rob fixed the pump and we are all slowly drying out.

The old Wilts & Berks Canal.

On a nice sunny morning not so long ago, the hubby and I decided to do a bit of exploring. Being boaty people we found ourselves at the site of the old Wilts & Berks canal in Grove, Wantage:
We started just before Grove Common Lock and made towards Abingdon, scurrying through undergrowth and falling in ditches.
Not much remains of the cut and it is easily mistaken for an old drainage ditch but, here and there, dotted amongst the fly tipping is the evidence of once used locks. Nature has reclaimed most of it and the bricks are crumbling away.
Work on the Wilts & Berks canal was started in 1795 and 52 miles and 15 years later it stretched from Semington Junction on the Kennet & Avon Canal to Abingdon on the River Thames. It opened up a transportation route for coal and other materials to London, Swindon and Oxford.
Like many now abandoned canals it fell victim to the advancement of the railways and other more efficient means of haulage. Ironically, it aided it's own ruin by being one of the main routes used by GWR to carry the materials used to construct the railway.
By the 1901, the canal was completely abandoned after part of the Stanley Aqueduct collapsed and the canal ran dry.


Source: WBCT.

Lewsey meets Old Father Thames

Which she didn't seem to enjoy. Better stick to stalking Lolly.

Rodney Quakes at The Temple Bar


The nice thing about being married to a musician is that I get to be a groupie by proxy. So, when hubby and Mr. F. booked themselves a gig in Oxford, I duly followed... with my folks and his folks... and as many friends as we could rustle up.


It wasn't certain whether they would get to play at all after the chappy who had arranged the evening had "accidentally" quadruple booked them. It was a bit of a rush to shorten the song list and there was a moment of mayhem when we reallised they were about to go onstage minus Mr. F. who had gone in search of food. Order was eventually resumed.

It was a rather lovely evening out, apart from Dad C. having his camera stolen by a rather dodgy taxi driver.