apres moi le deluge

More torrential rain; and the Bristol Avon responds quickly to rainfall, and was soon in flood. Here's the riverside path into Bradford on Avon, by the tithe barn and the packhorse bridge.

I was transporting the last of my old domestic batteries to the car, to take them to the salvage yardto be weighed in. "What the hell,"  I thought, and cycled into the flood.

It webnt well enough until about half way through, when a strong eddy hit the bike trailer, which immediately acred like a sea anchor, filling with water and pulling me to an abrupt stop.

So I had to dismount, and struggle with the bike and trailer to the shore, drenched up to mid-calf.

We got to Shanley's, the Trowbridge scrapyard, eventually; and my four dead batteries, with a combined weight of 87 Kg, earned me £34.80. So they'll go off to be recycled, and the money offsets at least a small bit of the cost of the new batteries, which was about £600.

Home again, it was dhobi time, washing the river water out of my wet clothes, and hanging them up to dry. My para boots went on a wire rack on top of the stove, and took three days to dry out properly; by which time, they were very stiff.

Out with the shoeshine kit. I started with a light coat of neat's foot oil, brushed in with an old toothbrush; then, when that had been absorbed, a layer of Weather Wax. I do like this shoe cleaning set; I found it in a charity shop in Pewsey. Weather Wax is no longer made, so I'm making the most of this last tin. I guess that Terry Pratchett used to use it too, which is where he got the name for Granny from.

look after your boots, and your boots will... well, they'll be happier boots, anyway

happy boots, ready for more foolishnessapre

....

Mwnt at St Brigid's Day

Here's a picture for Imbolc and St Brigid's Day. The words are a quote from Kyntaw Geir, an englyn describing a pilgrim about to set off on a journey:

 

Offspring of the Ruler, victorious Redeemer,

and Peter head of every nation,

Saint Bridget, bless my journey.

 

...and in the background is Mwnt, a small settlement to the north of Aberteifi with a beach in the bay, the tall hill that gives the place its name (a good place to watch dolphins from) and the small Church of the Holy Cross, a stopping place for pilgrims headed for Bardsey or St Davids, or for casual visitors heading for the top of the hill.

 

The new year is quickening; this morning the blackbirds joined with the song thrushes who've already been singing for a week or so, to give a melodious start to the day.

I've gota few  greetings cards with this picture on, over on Etsy

foraging for firewood

Cruising down to Bath a fortnight back, I saw some of the damage caused by the recent storms; lots of trees had been blown down. A couple had fallen right across the canal, preventing navigation, and had been dealt with fairly quickly by boaters and contractors. But there was still this ash tree, partially blocking the towpath at Murhill Wharf.

It was still there the other day, when I was heading back towards Bradford on Avon. So I pulled in and got the chainsaw out.

A happy combination of results; a clear towpath, and a heap of firewood for me.

...and I loaded up and carried on, because the canal here has a nasty concrete shelf, and I could only get within a long gangplank's distance from the side.

there's cosy now

Here's my neat method of splitting logs, using a hefty two-handed maul (like an axe but heavier) and a luggage strap to stop the bits from flying everywhere. Also observe the ubiquitous IKEA blue bag,  the boater's friend

St Mary's, Charlcombe

It was another icy morning. But the sun came out, and so, when I cycled across to the Post Office in Larkhall, I decided on the spur of the moment to go up to Charlcombe to see the church.

The lane ascending the combe quickly became rural, and too steep for cycling, so I pushed the bike most of the way, making my final approach along a footpath through the woods. Primroses, snowdrops and cuckoo pint were emerging in the churchyard. In the porch, a sign pointed to a light switch, but the interior was far more atmospheric without it.

the Norman font, and the squint

"Isn't she an Evelyn Waugh character?" asked Andrew...

A woman arriving to do the flowers directed me down the slope to the spring; "it was originally in the wall when the monks used it, but it was moved down a bit".

the first snowdrops

 

 A cobbled slope shelved into the water of the main well, and just below that was a little cistern.

I took the alternative route home, encountering even more steep ups and downs among farms and beech trees, reminding me rather of South Wales, though the buildings were of warm Bath stone rather than grey Pennant sandstone. Then there was a long long coast downhill through an extensive housing estate, and a visit to Morrisons to provision before sailing off into the wilds.

 

Here's another St Mary's Well, in Wales

Ffynnon Fair

They did not divine it, but
they bequeathed it to us:
clear water, brackish at times,
complicated by the white frosts
of the sea, but thawing quickly.

Ignoring my image, I peer down
to the quiet roots of it, where
the coins lie, the tarnished offerings
of the people to the pure spirit
that lives there, that has lived there
always, giving itself up
to the thirsty, withholding
itself from the superstition
of others, who ask for more.

RS Thomas

when the canal freezes over

...it gets very peaceful. Boats aren't moving, and the ducks congregate in swim-holes, keeping them open with their splashings around.

I had to defrost my bike before cycling down into Bath, so I decanted the hot ash from the stove into a bucket, then put it under an old overcoat on the handlebars. And the gears and brakes presently started working again.

I was getting a bit worried, because I was down to my last bag of coal and the last few logs for the stove. But Mal came visiting, and asked if there were any errands that needed running; because 'm temporrily car-less at the moment. "Can we go to the boatyard for some coal?" I asked.

We could.

...and, as there was some space in the car, we brought back some extra bags for the neighbours.

the 2025 Kennet and Avon Canal calendar

The new calendar is here!

This year I've gone back to people on the canal; so there's incidents from daily life and history, like the workboats - here's John Knill in 1950, delivering a cargo to Newbury; and Ishtar, keeping boaters supplied with coal last winter; and the CRT paddle boat, dashing off to clear vegetation in the Long Pound. And a couple of cross-section pictures, which are always a fun look at boatlife on the inside. A few anthropomorphic rats have sneaked in, too. What else? Crofton pumping station, the Aldermaston tea shop, Tyle Mill and the Mikron Theatre boat...

You can get one from my Etsy shop, or Devizes Books; or directly from me if you can find my boat, which will be easy at the end of this month because there's the big floating Christmas fair in Bradford on Avon, on 30 Nov-1 Dec.

cross-section of a narrowboat

Another picture for the calendar. This is a cross-section of a narrowboat, chugging along the Vale of Pewsey with Woodborough Hill in the background. That's a Russell Newbery engine, sort of, beacuse it's a bit more picturesque than my Beta Tug engine. And the boatperson's cabin is rather more ideal than my own cluttered and squalid one. Art, see.

I think that makes nine pics I've got now. And as people usually demand at least twelve months in their calendars, I'd really better pull my finger out, hadn't I? Anyway, it was fun to draw this one. Particularly fun, that is. If it weren't fun, I wouldn't be doing it, after all.