I'm too old to die young and leave a good-looking corpse ...

 ... and I didn't really think that there was any actual danger in navigating The Pool of London in a narrowboat, but I was aware that it would be 'an adventure' ... and it was! Of course; my meticulous (by my standards) planning, and attention to safety details did, in fact, cause a few flutters of trepidation in Lyn's heart. Never fear ... we live to tell the tale!

We left you - gentle reader - at the point where we nosed out of the Thames Lock at Limehouse, and then turned right.

Even before clearing the lock we were, discernibly, pitching. (Pitching: moving up and down front relative to back.) I, myself, had expected - in a flat-bottomed boat - that rolling would be more of an issue. Happily; it was not ... and the pitching motion was not violent. Provably so, as at no time over the next three hours did I evince the slightest symptom of sea-sickness. (A novelty for me, in these circumstances,)

The Thames; for the first 5 or 6 miles; was quite rough ... relatively speaking. This was due to traffic, rather than the stiff breeze which was blowing. However; during the whole of this part of the trip; none of the crew evinced anything other than quite confidence. (I was doing a great job of faking quiet confidence!!!) The only authentic difficulty was in the steering of a rational course, whilst we dodged the various 'trip-boats' and other tourist conveyances, all of which showed scant regard for our lack of sea-worthiness. The worst were the 'RIBs'; which I presume to be an acronym for 'Rigid Inflatable Boat'. The speeds they attain throw up quite daunting wakes; so I was constantly pursuing a sinuating course, in my attempts tp present either my bow or stern to threatening waves. Indeed; my attention to duty - to my craft and my crew - prevented me from glorying in the sights on offer. Luckily; others were using modern photographic technology to record the various highlights.

Here - in less than discriminating order, and unexpurgated - are samples of their pictorial labours ... (It's not "LABORS"; spellcheck; I'm British!!!)

I can't wait all day for them to open this thing!

HMS Belfast??? Where did Tower Bridge go?

Ah! There it is!

So the Tower of London must be around here ... 

Lyn's the REALLY Big Wheel in this picture!

It's not falling down, so it can't be London Bridge, can it?

Phillip The Navigator.

Bridges! Everywhere you look: more bridges. (25 in all.)

Are we there yet?

Yes ... gentle reader ... we DID get to Brentford (Have we been here before?); just as the light was waning. Tired but triumphant ... the way we seem to feel a lot, these days.

Now ... off up the Grand Union canal towards Warwick. And so to bed.

Girding Our Loins.

Apologies for not  having done this for a few days ... it's been a busy time!

Leaving Bishop's Waltham in our wake (on Tuesday morning) we plodded South, alongside a chain of reservoirs, through  mile upon (seemingly) endless mile of rural/industrial wasteland, between serried ranks of gargantuan electricity pylons, marching inexorably down to feed the insatiable appetite of the bloated metropolis. Approaching the capital, the waterways become increasingly populated by plastic bags, plastic bottles, drink-cans, etc., etc.; entailing several stops to clear the propeller. Strangely enough; the water itself is disconcertingly clear!

Eventually, we arrive in Limehouse Basin, to find an idyllic oasis of modern buildings, in a fairly quiet setting, just a hundred yards from a congested urban thoroughfare.

.

A medium-sized marina; filled with boats and yachts of all description; this is the real gateway to the the Thames, and all points upriver and down.

Downriver ... to the sea!

Upriver ... to tomorrow's adventure!

Mooring overnight, we awaited the arrival of our friends Phil and Pat Marlow-Mann; bringing the essential supplies of life-jackets and Marine VHF Radio ... lacking which the lockmaster would not allow us out onto the 'Tidal Thames'.

With the lockmaster observing our departure ... 






 .... we turned right, and this was our view ... 

M25 dead-ahead, Skipper!

Although we can't yet hear it, we can - in the distance - see it! Passing beneath it, tomorrow (Tuesday) will be a harbinger of the proximity of London; again.

The River Stort was winding and narrow; with some of the lowest bridges we've ever encountered.

"How low were they, Tom"?

They were so low that we were too concerned to even think about photographing them.

"As low as that, Tom?"

Yes, indeed. At one of them we had to reverse (go astern; even though nautical terms aren't really used on the canal/river system); take the bikes off the roof; and turn the handlebars through 90 degrees. Even then; whilst we were ducking down; we were worried that my knuckles - on top of the tiller handle - might get scraped; so I had to operate by fingertip control from UNDERNEATH the tiller handle!!! (To make things even hairier; there was Jerry flack all over place, and an ME109 on my 6 o-clock, but he chickened out at the bridge, and I'm lucky to get back home to tell the tale!)

... (Waking up) ... Monday evening (22nd. June) ... We're in Waltham Abbey, and off to the folk club tonight. No guest tonight, just a sing-around; but these are always interesting and, occasionally enthralling sessions. I've got a gig here in February, so this will keep me in touch! Limehouse tomorrow! All for now, Tom.

We're not in London anymore, Toto!

Heading North on the River Lea, we passed under the M25 (London Orbital motorway). Although we had been in fairly rural scenery for a while, there was an almost palpable sense of difference.

Here's Lyn - needing the hat, even in this British summer - stooging quietly along, with the M25 less than 2 miles behind her, and Central London only 9 miles away!

What are the poor people doing today?

This garden could be in California, but the house could only be in Britain.

Who needs a lawn mower?

My granddad told me he worked on this when it was being built at Harland and Wolff!!!

 We've arrived in Bishop's Stortford, where we're being lazy. All that pushing on 
 balance beams and winding windlasses is certainly getting us fit and keeping us trim,

Talking of Granddads ... 

but NOT pushing and winding for a while is quite pleasurable as well!

We've gathered more good advice and information about navigating through the Pool of London, and - taking into account tides, lock-opening times and river traffic - we're now planning our locking-out; through Limeshouse Lock; for early on Thursday morning. Our friends: Phil and Pat Marlow-Mann; have volunteered to be our extra crew, for the 15-mile trip up the 'tidal Thames'.

I haven't put our 'locks and miles' progress, recently. I'll catch up on that (if anyone's interested) at a later date. All for now - more later. Tom and Lyn.

Surviving Falmouth International Shanty Festival.

Hectic and totally exhausting, but we wouldn't have missed it. Lots of old friends caught up with, but even more missed due to the requirements of programming. However; the opportunity to sing, and spend time, with our Polish friends is worth some sacrifice.

We arrived back on our floating home and flopped (early) into bed; for 12 glorious hours of sleep!!!

This morning (Tuesday) we departed the environs of Kings Cross Station, for the quieter rurality of Northeast London; on the River Lea. In our quest to explore as much as we (practicably) can of the U.K. waterways, we're heading towards Hertford (up the River Lea) and Bishops Stortford (up the River Stort). This should occupy us for about a week, whilst we gird our loins - and "screw our courage to the sticking place" (the Scottish play, Act 1, Scene 7) in the prospect of venturing our craft out into the Pool of London. Many are the horror stories of narrowboats having close-encounters with the heedless tour-boats!!! However; the prospect of taking our cockleshell under Tower Bridge

and several other famous bridges; is worth a bit of risk.

A polemic rant: about the achievements of Trades Unions; during one of my sets in Falmouth; was so well received that I'm (seriously) considering starting my own political party (and standing as a candidate in the next General Election) ... the NOTA party. That will be the 'None of the Above' party! Who's with me???

I'm now going to lie down in a cool, darkened room!

'Little Venice'!!! Not much like (actual) Venice.

Egyptian Goose (ornithologically a 'duck), with one baby just being cute.

But first ... I forgot to mention (at least) two lots of birds ...  there was the Egyptian Goose (coincidentally, the name of our mate Tony's boat); and then there were so many swallows skimming low over the Thames - in a frenzy of catching Mayflies ('Ephemera, to you) - that I quite forgot that they weren't 'aquatic birds'!





Little Venice is VERY close to the centre of London, with so many images that I find it impossible to categorize and label them all. Here they are .....

Early tomorrow morning, we're off to Falmouth, (after collecting some Polish guys from Heathrow Airport) for the Falmouth Shanty Festival. When we get back, on Tuesday, I'll tell you more about what we did in London. 'Til then ...