Some idyllic scenes we found along the way.
Wednesday, 19 November 2014
What a great time of year with mainly just us with other live-aboard boaters moored nearby. Of course there are some boats that are moved from place to place every fourteen days that are left unoccupied. There are some really lovely walks all around this area too. Luckily I’ve always got my little camera in my pocket at the ready.
Thursday, 13 November 2014
Monday, 10 November 2014
Mark came by bringing much needed coal and diesel for us, so we topped up with water too, all essentials on board now. As we had a mild patch of weather we let the Squirrel go out and we were down to our last few nuggets of coal, so hurrah for wb Calisto! There was a nice clear sky which meant we were in for a chilly night aboard. Next day we stoked up the Squirrel and away we went with the chimney smoking like a big fat cigar at the front of the boat.
I went ahead to prepare the lock with the Cabin Boy bringing Oakfield around the sharp turn under the bridge steadily in one go and straight into the lock.
Sunday, 9 November 2014
My maternal Grandmother’s Brother ( my Great Uncle ) joined up for WW1 as a Private in the Infantry. He spent four years in New Zealand ( presumably training ) where he joined the Canterbury Regiment, returning to England in August stationed at Salisbury for a few weeks. He then proceeded to France where he met instantaneous death on September 29th. His Officer wrote to my Aunt saying “He met his death very suddenly while they were in the reserve lines by a shell exploding right beside him!”.He was buried on the outskirts of Ypres overlooking the battlefield in 1917, he was 34 years old. I wonder how may made the month long trip to train in New Zealand as he did? In the end, such a waste of so many young lives. I would have liked to have known him.
My paternal Grandfather also joined in the WW1 effort and went over in The Somme area as with the Royal Engineers as a Sapper ( I think this involved much digging etc ) From the postcards he sent home he travelled around to several places in France and saw devastation in the cities and all around. He got married here in 1915 and I think he was involved in France until c1918. When my Father was to join for WW2 he asked him for his advice, which was, ‘Don’t join the Army son’. He reckoned too much hard work and marching about for miles had ruined his feet and legs which he suffered badly with until the end. However this didn’t stop him from doing his gardening on his hands and knees. His work back home involved manual labour too. I remember he fell off long ladders several times, but always recovered. He definitely had his nine lives!