Haggis at 15

Happy Birthday to Haggis who reaches 15 years old today and a very youthful and puppy-like 15 he is on occasions. Today, though, he is taking it easy as befits a gent in his Autumn years. We've been for a nice walk round the boatyard and town in which we dodged some serious rain squalls (by superb timing and by knowing some of the locals willing to call us in for tea). Mostly around that Haggis has slept and eaten, woken periodically with gifts of proper breakfast, or a pig's ear or (Birthday Cake of Choice for us) raw pork ribs.

Join me in wishing him many more and problem free years and don't sing 'Happy Birthday' too loud, or you'll wake the old boy up.

Many Happy Returns, H

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Swale Match

We are abandoned by both parents today in a shameless act of desertion. Mum is off on a mission of mercy to a friend in need in Brighton. This poor unfortunate has suffered a minor stroke just as she was about to move flats in Brighton. It was apparently only a small one, from which she's expected to recover, but meant that she was in hospital under observation just when she was due to move out of one flat and into the next. A gang of ladies including Mum have therefore descended upon her and upon Brighton to effect the flat-move while she is incapacitated.

Dad would have been there too, were this not THE MOST IMPORTANT DAY EVER in the history of Dad's association with Sailing Barge Cambria, namely the day that Dad and his fellow volunteers were invited on board to help crew in a barge race, the "Swale Barge and Smack Sailing Match". The Swale, for them's don't know, is the strip of water between (mainland) Kent and the Isle of Sheppey, which lies just off Kent in the Thames Estuary. The race course runs from roughly the end of Faversham Creek, out eat then south towards Herne Bay, turning back west just off HB to tack back up the Swale to the Creek again. It's about 6 hours sailing time.

What Dad had feared would be a rather pedestrian 'passenger ride' was no such thing as all the 'volunteers' were encouraged to take proper crew jobs and to work hard. Also what they'd all feared would be a windless drift turned out to be quite breezy, especially from Herne Bay onwards so there was lots of hard work hauling on sails and winding winches, Dad was fore-sheet-man (bowline man) so his bursts of work came thick and fast as the barge had to tack every 5 minutes or so coming back up the narrow, low-tide Swale.

In the end Cambria came 2nd in her class (Bowsprit barges) and we won the Seamanship Award so fair play to us. We'd actually done by about half 2 but could then sit around yarning and eating our packed lunches till half four, before the Faversham Iron Wharf tug could get down to collect us and drag us up the Creek back to our berth as the tide came up the creek. There was then another couple of hours of being towed, putting the barge to bed and taxi-ing everyone back to where the cars had been left (Harty Ferry) so Dad got home about 18:30 to release us.

Mum has had even more fun getting home from Brighton because the M25 has been closed, so on Dad's advice she diverted eastwards via Hastings and the A257 to go have a coffee with Pud Lady. She and Diamond will be back here about 22:00

All go, innit

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Coffee and a small brandy

A Coffee and a small brandy, Dad replied, in response to the question from Mum. Must have lost something in translation. The other pic is Cambria out on the Swale.

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Pictures of Lily

Meet Lily, latest addition to the Silverwoods family. Currently only 8 weeks old and fairly new. Bit of a girlie name but me and Maxwell will probably toughen her up. It's what big brothers and cousins are for!

Our lovely sunshine gives way to rain. It's just starting to very gently drizzle as we set out for our walk this morning and we decide to do the boat yard and back through town route which is, unfortunately not one with any obvious shortcuts home. Fairly soon it's drizzling very convincingly and then just plain tanking down. 3 days off his 15th birthday, Haggis is not inclined to be hurried anywhere and, anyway, his dense felty old fur sheds water like the proverbial duck, so he ain't rushin for no-one, rain or not. Dad and me end up looking like drowned rats.

Diamond, now largely through her medical dramas is exploring the idea of getting back to work (No Diamond! Lady of Leisure! Keep the Faith!) and has sought and got a job at Mum's 'firm'. Diamond is a keen Greece-ophile and annual visitor to the same village in the same island for decades, knows lots of locals, seen the current crop of café owners grow up having bounced them on her knee when they were babies, never has to sit in the 'tourist' seats, you get the idea. So she's delighted that her new boss is also Greek (well, Crete actually). Today is her first day. Mum may come back with tales of how she got on. Good luck Diamond!

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Ferry Tickets

A couple more pics of the Cambria now she is fully rigged and sail-able. Ignore them if you're not as obsessed as Dad (and who is?). Another hot day so we take our walk in the Challock Forest where the dense grown-up chestnut coppice gives a good deal of shade. We meet a lady out walking 2 westies and two wiry haired dachshunds, which is visually an amusing combination. The dachsies are scruffy like an unclipped westie but much shorter in the leg and longer in the body.

In terms of Project Erroll, Dad books his ferry tickets for the first burst of real (as opposed to internet) house hunting. He is going to team up with Mrs Silverwood, the world's number 1 organiser of people like estate agents. She has no fear. They will look round each of the dozen or so which Mum and she have shortlisted and, like an 'observer corps' rather than a battling unit, will report back to central command (Mum). There is only one place which Dad might conceivably be allowed to put any kind of tentative offer in about and we're too wary of tempting fate to even give you a clue where that might be at present.

Today, film maker Mike Maloney (Google "Red Sails Trailer" for more bargey action) calls and invites Dad round to see some 'rushes' filmed during the Thames Barge Match. This is partly to show them off but also Mike loves to run his tentative descriptions past anyone reasonably knowledgeable to get his facts straight. He has some lovely footage there of barges at speed.

There is also a move in the de-cluttering stakes. The lady (Sheila) who is to take over secretarying on the Allotments Committee comes round to be shown the ropes and handed a disk of all the files, and wobbles off on her bike with three lever arch files in her basket, the live file and 2 of archive. 3 fewer lever arch files kicking around in the study when we come to pack properly.

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The sun is splitting the stones

The sun is splitting the stones. It's too hot to do any work, for definite. A little bit of laundry is all we achieve. Our dog walk is through the coolth of the cemetery under all the trees. We retreat indoors for Dad to do some secretarial stuff for the allotments on the computer - reminder letters to tenants that they are, in fact, expected to cultivate the ground we rent to them, for example.

While out in the car taking that stuff round to the Allotments Chairman (actually a lady, Sandra) he gets all distracted and ends up down on the Cambria looking to get some up to date, fully rigged, photo's, and what do you know, Master Shipwright Tim Goldsack is about to take her the 300 yards or so upstream to turn her round and, as ever, he can use an extra hand manning the fenders. How could Dad refuse?

It's a narrowish waterway and the barge, weighing 70 tonnes or so could do a fair amount of damage even at low speed, so they use a small tug to tow her and turn her but they like to have blokes lowering huge rubber bladders (fenders) down the side between any part of the hull and any piece of encroaching scenery, yachts, piers etc. As it happens Dad is able to play just in the nick of time hero.

The barge is far enough upstream and the tug, still attached to the bow scoots round to the left under the stem intending to put some reverse thrust on her to bring her to a stop, but at an angle so that the bow swings round in a 'handbrake' turn style swing and does not hit the left bank. It's a big concrete wall and we are bearing down rather fast on house No 20 with it's waterfront view... looming over the house, in fact. The tug takes up the slack and PTOINGGGG!, the rope detaches from the tug's hook.

Now we are gliding towards the wall under no control. Dad leaps for'd with his big fender on his rope, then swings and lowers it as far as he can down the stem, round the anchor, just in time. The barge stem grabs the fender and squishes it till Dad is sure it must burst, but she slows, stops and bounces back, just when everyone on deck, who couldn't see whether Dad had made it or not, is expecting a sickening crunch and some damage to either wall or barge. Relief all round! My Daddy is the hero of the hour!

Of course, this is all in a day's work to barge blokes, so they just re-attach the rope and use the 'bounce' to continue the stern round and then start the bow moving downstream, completing the turn, then gliding Cambria back intio Standard Quay alongside SB Beric, where she started.

Oh, and then Dad came home and knocked together some salmon en croute parcels for John, Diamond and old 'Walt' who are round tonight for supper.

A man of many talents

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In deep and solemn Mourning

Ashes to ashes and dust to dust. Today we lay to rest the mortal remains of Dad's trusty Canon EOS 350D which fell in action aboard the good ship Northumberland, was mortally wounded and died of its wounds soon after returning to these shores. It had had a long and illustrious career, being Dad's first and only so far digital camera, taking 12,362 pictures across 5 years. May you rest in peace. Dad is now in negotiations with the Chancellor of the Exchequer in order to expedite a replacement.

Blimey it's hot. Dad found his serious gardening gloves and headed for the allotment early to pull stinging nettles from among a huge ex-garden red hot poker which he has at the top of his plot, and nettles and bindweed growing up through the gooseberry bushes. That plot is going to be so tidy when he hands it back, the next tenant will be delighted. Since then we've not really done much except sit around avoiding the heat (and occasional nips to shops to suss cameras).

Talking of 'next tenant', the amount of chicken noise was increasing as heard from our garden and we were wondering why. The Angel B and Jim had been joking with us about the fact that with us up for sale, and the 'librarian' couple on the other side of him doing a moonlight flit, everyone would think it was them upsetting the neighbours, and also mildly worried who might move in. Well, hopefully we are all now sorted.

Our buyers seem to be a nice young couple and on the far side the girl who has moved in, Jim has known since she was a babe in arms. Jim and the Angel used to keep pubs, and the babe's Dad was one of his best known and popular customers. Anyway, they've turned up with chickens in a modern hi-tech kind of coop which sounds like it might be an 'Egloo' but I'm not sure - we've not seen it yet. Yesterday, the Angel B was round there and was handed an egg so fresh from one of the chooks it was still blood-heat to the touch!

Dad still remembers when he was first milking cows, you just naturally expect milk to be cold. In the farm's bulk tank, after all, it is take-your-breath-away cold. So when another dairyman or lady directs a hand-milked stream of milk straight from the cow's teat down your leg when you're not expecting it, you think you've been peed on. Your whole reaction screams that milk cannot be at blood temperature, but of course it is!

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