NarrowBoat Bones

Mum

2012-01-27T18:28:00.002Z

I started this blog for my Mum so she knew what I was up to, and I never thought she would be gone so soon. She had to leave us, and it will take time to get used to her not being by our side, but in our hearts instead.

Her footprints don't tread this earth anymore and the sound of her voice has fallen silent. Mum - may you rest in peace and rise in glory..

Dear Mum

2012-01-23T19:19:00.001Z

I am having a nice time on holiday. I have a ball and dinner and Stanley has to wait in bed until I make my mind up what to do first. I might have a little sleep as Stanley is going green. What fun.
Love
Boots

Sitting

2012-01-23T16:09:00.001Z

I am sitting by my mothers bedside as she sleeps peacefully. My father is playing jazz which is wafting its way through the corridors. The view over the garden is glorious in the winter light. I don't suppose I will be here for the end, but I am here for now.

The house is peaceful but for the gently ticking of the numerous clocks.
The world is busy, but here we are quiet.

Quiet and peaceful.

Waiting?

2012-01-23T11:53:00.003Z

I thought I had possibly heard my mothers voice for the last time yesterday, but last night I had a message to call. On the off chance someone might be able to give us an update my sister had called the house. The nurse answered and she was able to exchange a few words with Mother. She sent a message to do the same, so I did. I was also able to exchange a few words with my mother. The voice I am so familiar with that is going to fall silent.
Mother deteriorated in the night and although she is comfortable she is fading. I am torn as to whether to go to her side, or not. As my friend says, there is no right answer and I am not very good with decisions that don't involve right answers.

Waiting
Unclear thought
Flashing memories
Childhood
Family moments
Flashing by
Silence
Quiet
Peace
Agony
Screaming
Change
All change
Peace.

Slipping away?

2012-01-22T11:57:00.001Z

It isn't over
It isn't past,
It's the moment of limbo
How long will it last?

Have we had
Our final conversation
Our final laugh
Probably.

It is not over.
It is not the past.
Onward.
This legacy of life
Living on.

chilled frozen over in the gorgeous morning light

2012-01-16T16:29:00.001Z

Yet another glorious morning on the frozen cut.

Canal River Trust: Andy Tidy

2012-01-12T14:15:00.001Z

I like this guy, his integrity and his manifesto A LOT. He is a good man. I am going to keep putting this post up every now and again and I do hope you will consider him seriously when it comes to voting and tell others about him. You can get information from his blog where he has been writing about the the Canal River Trust and elections here and why to vote for Andy Tidy here.

Morning Skies

2012-01-11T09:51:00.001Z

The sky this morning was beautiful and I know I am not alone in this because everyone says so. The skies are stunning in our country. I looked out of the side hatch to this:

As I set off from the boat I could see the sunrise on one side and the moonset on the other. How beautiful the moon hanging there in splendour, bold and large:

Across the fields the windows to the little church at Hampton Gay were ablaze with orange light as the sun peered above the horizon and as it rose the light that was cast across the fields was magical.

I walked over the fields under the peaceful sky and suddenly things felt alright. I was reminded of a poem I wrote some 10years ago for someone very dear at the time. It is the only poem I have ever given to anyone and the only one I have ever spent time thinking and composing. That person is gone now, and the full version is here, but here is the abbreviated version as it rang around my head in the fields this morning as it often does, but this time it was in one of those rare moments when peace sweeps across the atmosphere. This moment suited it much better.

Oh distant land
Where the sun rises high
Where the birds sing of freedom
And the stars hang from the sky

Where can you be found?
Oh distant, distant land

Morning through the side hatch

2012-01-11T08:16:00.001Z

Two marinas in Cropredy backed by Cherwell council

2012-01-10T10:47:00.001Z

It can all be read about here and here. I have often heard that a Marina at Cropredy would solve all the boating issues that the southern Oxford apparently has. I have never been convinced, not least because getting to work in Oxford from Cropredy (and I have transport) is a long slog. The news however gives the impression that the main objection was to children drowning as it wasn’t going to be far from the primary school. The news article itself is quite calm and placid, the comments are certainly worth reading.

Social Media is the No Future of the day

2012-01-09T12:06:00.001Z

A friend sent these images by email. Is this Evolution?

Getting Away

2012-01-06T07:41:00.000Z

Boots has already written to Granny and Grandpa about our trip away so here are some pictures.

We stopped on the way to look at the Rollright Stones. Despite living in Oxfordshire for many many years I have never been. I did once take a trip around the Cotswolds and stopped for a short walk around Little Rollright village but as time (and the company) was tight I didn’t stop long. I did however tell myself I would return but for some reason I haven’t ever quite made it, until this trip. Parking the car is easy and the stones are just over the hedge.

These flowers tell an untold story

They remind me of a post 8ch made about some flowers he found in a quiet place in 2010 here

A short walk leads to the whispering giants; I grew fond of the one on the right – it was rather like a curled up version of a figure of my childhood.

Our shadows came for a walk

and we stood and we watched

The hotel room had a lovely bath (I even used it)

and pre dinner drinks in the library

Walk in the country

2012-01-05T07:17:00.000Z

The morning light is stunning and on the 28th November 2011 I walked the fields in glorious frosty sunlight

At the end of our walked my shadow watched Boots run towards us with a HUGE grin on his face.

Autumn/Winter in the country

2012-01-04T07:08:00.000Z

Chimney Making Picture Book

2012-01-03T12:57:00.001Z

My dear friend gave me my chimney but 4 years later it was feeling rather sorry for itself and it was time for a new one. We didn’t know about the benefits of double lined chimneys but I do now, so I went for a double skinned stainless steal number. My friends gave me the number of a chimney maker and I joined the long queue of boaters who had suddenly decided with the approach of winter to get a new chimney – the best time is to get them in summer – you avoid the rush that way.

The chimney maker arrived on site with everything in the back of his van.

All the steel is cut to size before coming. Then it is clamped together

whizzed

Inside added

Spot welded

hammered

hat fitted

finished

Dear Granny and Grandpa

2012-01-02T18:51:00.001Z

Mum has been off work far too long and has been moping around the place like a bear with a sore head so I have spent some of my pocket money on a hotel for us for the night. Fortunately it has a bath and even more fortunately (for the rest of us) mum has used it.

Our room is quite comfortable. There are several chairs for mum to sleep on and I have a huge bed. The room is quite enormous and takes much longer to get to the kettle or bathroom than at home. This is a great relief as mum is getting plenty of exercise which is jolly good as her bum has been exponentially expanding over the last few weeks.

Lots of love
Boots

Musings of a New Year

2011-12-31T18:28:00.001Z

Each day is a new day. Not only is there a song about it, but when I was a child my father told me so.

My father is a wise man so I believed him. What I wasn’t so sure about was what was NEW about a new day. I wondered whether the trees on the new day were new too. I used to stare out of my bedroom window wondering whether the cherry plum tree in the corner was there ALL NIGHT or whether the new day came with a new tree.

I wondered what it was about the new day that made it new because the marker of the new day,time, wasn’t new – it was a continuous continuum. I decided, after much observation, that the tree probably was the same tree each day.

What I wasn’t so sure about was whether the tree moved an inch or so in the space it stood in to symbolise the new day… the clock marked the passage of time and so, perhaps, as the sun moved around the sky so the tree moved around it’s space - a kind of slow dance, for trees. I wondered whether, by the time I was really really old (which was probably 10) whether the tree would be in the rose beds place.

Of course, this is impossible to determine because if everything was a slow dance perhaps we were all moving and my window wasn’t in the same place as it was yesterday. I decided it was all a bit too complicated so accepted every day was a new day, but the with same stuff and not necessarily in the same place. It was probably my first brush with relativity.

So, we are about to have a New Year. I am not sure what is new about the year or why everyone persistently celebrates it for one night only and only half of that, the ‘old year’ half.

Lots of people are saying ‘lets hope next year is better than this one has been’ – the one we celebrated last year.. I don’t think we celebrate the New Year at all, but the end of the current year. I am not celebrating the New Year, I am celebrating the end of this year. At the end of someone’s life I think of them, what they have taught me, how they touched me, how I might have touched them, and rejoice, mostly, not that they have died but they lived and I was privilege enough to meet them. I think I will do the same with this year. What have I done, achieved, failed, learnt, sustained, developed and embraced.

The New Year isn’t a time for new beginnings it is a time to continue, but maybe differently.

Christmas Shopping in Oxford

2011-12-22T05:39:00.000Z

On Sunday morning under blue skies I worshipped at the alter of commercialism in our beautiful city. I walked around looking at the skyline and it was utterly gorgeous. Here are some pictures.

Decorations

2011-12-21T20:46:00.000Z

My boss often brings me a piece of fruit from his luncheon fruit bowl at college. This morning I arrived to find this on my desk

Another of my colleagues is rather creative and gave me this which I thought was utterly divine!

Back on the boat I have put up some decorations, a string of them this time:

Iced Over – Morning Light

2011-12-21T17:29:00.001Z

Northbrook

2011-12-17T20:12:00.001Z

Supper

2011-12-08T15:14:00.001Z

Chapatti:

Flour and water with a pinch of salt

Omelette:

Eggs and a bit of milk and a bit of butter for the pan

lemonade:

sugar, water and lemon.

This is what I had for supper last night but when I thought about it I realised that if I adjusted the quantities supper would be much more satisfying so I had pancakes with lemon and sugar.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

2011-12-03T08:02:00.001Z

Have a great day!

Goth? An amble along the reflective morning of the rambling mind.

2011-12-01T11:27:00.001Z

A friend of mine showed a picture of what looked like a lovely day out in a cemetery with some friends(it must have been lovely, days out in the cemetery are magic). In the cemetery photograph there was a red push chair (presumably undertaking the carriage of the new baby). Another friend commented on the red pushchair. She didn’t say as much but it echoed something in my mind - the red had really jumped out at me. A Gothic – RED?! I don’t see the problem red is neutral.

Do you really have to wear black to be a Goth?

But you wear black all the time – you MUST be a Goth said one friend to me. I never said I was a Goth, nor did I deny it. Indeed, I don’t even know why the conversation came up but it wasn’t the first or the last time. Someone said the other day, after yet another person had died, ‘no wonder you wear black all the time, you are in constant mourning’.

The thing is….I was wearing a red shirt. OK so red is neutral but how does that explain the purple in my wardrobe and the orange sock? OK so my wardrobe is mostly white, grey, black, purple, red and, if we include the sock, orange. BUT to most people purple, red and orange are not black. Nor loosely speaking is white.

Am I a Goth?

I often wonder whether I am. I certainly appreciate the things my ‘gothic’ friends like doing and thoroughly enjoy the tales my friend shares of events, meetings and fun days out with his Goth friends.

Although I have grown to love the people I have never met because of the joy they bring my friend I have no desire to be there and share it in person. It is his and I love it for that. I suspect that were I to be there I wouldn’t fit in anyway.

As my soul gently died I dressed how it felt and it happened to be still be black but there was a bit more tights and a bit more chain

Many years ago now I spent quite a bit of time in a 'gothic nightclub’. I am not really sure it was a nightclub really; it was after 9pm and I made sure that I usually left before anyone ‘clubbed’ anyone else. Even there I could be seen wearing red, albeit big red and black striped tights, but it was red. I wasn’t the only one wearing a ‘colour’ – the cyber Goths were quite something else; they had it everywhere even in their piercings. There is certainly more to Goth than colour.

Your clothes make you ill:

The way I dressed was often criticised, jeered at, shouted at, whistled at, and I was frequently lectured on the usual topic of ‘no wonder you feel ill – you should see how you dress’. (I never quite said their attitude made me more ill… but the sentiment was certainly there)

It isn’t unusual to come across depression in general society so it is hardly a surprise to come across it in the Gothic community. However I bet the depressed Goth is more likely to be told to dress in a bit of colour and THEN they will feel better. Since when was dress code ever a medicinal practice? Is colour the new homeopathy of the material world?

I don’t think clothing makes a hoot of difference.

Your drawings are deranged

I recall showing someone, because they asked, one of my recent drawings it was of a skeleton. I don’t recall asking for their opinion, but they gave it to me anyway - they told me I shouldn't draw skeletons, I should draw flowers. So I did. I went home and drew a vase of flowers. The person looked delighted until I produced my drawing of a bunch of flowers. Their face fell. But I really really DO love flowers that have begun to crisp up, ones that have stood faithfully in the vase for a long time, aged and wise they wrinkle, droop a bit, but still hang on to life. Yes, they don’t need water any more, but they are beautiful. Stunning. Just becoming interesting.

I don’t think what you draw makes a hoot of difference either – it may show were your mind is, or where you interest lie, but it doesn’t tell you much more than you can glean from asking someone how they are.

As my soul came alive I dressed how I wanted and that was with little less chain, a little less tights and a bit more trouser

and the comments stopped.

So where has it come from that Goths have to wear black?

I have noticed that when someone doesn’t wear black they aren’t considered to be a Goth. My clothes may be dark, but I wonder now whether I would be accepted were I to walk into the Gothic nightclub looking like the civi I now look like? I suspect the prejudice would lie in both quarters and I would have trouble accepting myself being there more. I am more of a loner.

So who said you had to be a teenager to be a Goth?

Someone said ‘you can’t be a Goth, you aren’t a teenager’ but I probably am a teenager – albeit at 38 but who isn’t?. If my 49year old friend can ‘redefine adolescence from a 49year olds point of view’ I think we can all be whatever age or stage we like. Actually, the last time I looked I think I was 5 with fleeting moments of being 100.

Goth isn’t about the youf. It is much more historical than that. There is a fashion phase of Goth, but it is just that - a phase; a bit like dressing up as an angel at Christmas, but longer. Goths aren’t a phase they are a state of being.

I don’t need to wear black to be a Goth. I emanate it. I must do otherwise people would notice my orange sock or my purple or red shirt.

Some people wear black clothes because their souls aren’t dark enough. Some people wear black clothes to mirror their souls. Some people wear black clothes to cover up the bright pink springy nature within them that dances around with bells on. Some people wear black to look smart – but I don’t see people saying ‘oooh I am not going into that restaurant the waitress’ are Goths’

Morning

2011-11-30T06:10:00.000Z

I know that the canal chases through the beautiful countryside but it wasn’t until I had a dog that I ventured a bit further and started to explore it. This field is minutes away from the canal. Living on a boat is so much more than the bilges and water.