Drop on the hard stuff December 2014

Batchworth Careols

Batchworth Carols

It was a pretty cold evening when the annual carol singing took place at Batchworth lock. With a brass band and choir to accompany the many members of the residents and boaters it was a merry sing. The occasion was organised by the BFC as usual with the local lady vicar leading the ceremonies. It is amazing that so many strangers come together, sharing candles and song sheets in close proximity in the freezing cold to sing.

As far as boating goes this month, there has been none for me. There is always something to do/fix. The starter battery has given its last and a new one awaits installation. I was going to pop it in this week until I  had a drop on the hard stuff! Yes, not a drop scotch but a fall off my bike. Following a successful tow path ride as part of my chaplain role, I lost traction and hit the tarmac with enough force to do so serious bruising to my hand, but no bones broken. So until I can muster the strength to shift the battery it is going to stay in the house porch. To be honest I’ve tried to move it a couple of times and it seems to be glued to the floor. Gravity really does make everything attractive.

Now I’ve written about water trying to get into the boat from every angle, I found a new one the other day. I noticed that my spice shelf was damp. On closer inspection i found water had part filled a basket containing bottles and boxes of spices. The mulling spices must have thought that Christmas had come early, albeit some what cold and non-alcoholic. Well they went out, along with a number of other items. How did the water get up to head height?  The answer was a leaking mushroom vent on the roof. Another job for a fine day, but at least it explains how last year water got into my wardrobe. It gets through the vent then tracks hidden behind the ceiling and comes out somewhere obscure to try to confuse you/me.

Anyway that’s enough for now, I still haven’t explained about the lace town of Aylesbury, it mass emigration nor the joys of the Aylesbury arm. Another time.

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