Attracting all nice things

I can't help reflecting on some of the great people I have come in to contact with since my friend Neil asked me "Do you want a boat?" last autumn.

There's Neil's dad Ron, for a start. He kindly gave me the boat in the first place when it was in serious danger of complete deterioration. I hope he's pleased with what's been done so far.

There's Andy from Colchester Motor Glass, who stepped in to sort out the broken window and perished rubber seals, just when I was giving up.

There's Sarah from Sail And Cover near Ipswich, who will be making me a new multi-coloured canopy. Most people would have run a mile from such a challenge.

There are all the folks at the boat sheds in Alresford Creek, especially Alan who makes great tea, and Paul, whose tractor and trailer will be used this weekend for the launch.

Of course there's 'erindoors, although I did already know her. She's been busily making some nice bright cushions, but more importantly, has never complained about being a boat-widow every time I've said "I'm just off to the boat, dear".

And now, my faith in human nature has escalated even higher, when fellow blogger and Essex artist Cherry (check out her website at www.cherryann-art.com), contacted me and offered to send me, without charge, something for the boat. Yesterday, the postman arrived with a package from her, along with her good wishes.

Today it will be my first job to find a hanging position in the cabin for her unique piece of art called "The Mermaid" on this penultimate day of final tasks prior to launch on Sunday.

A Boat For My, er, Hifi

Crikey! Opinions are split over whether I should use artificial (my suggestion) or real plants ('erindoors' insistance). I never knew I could cause such a stir with the words 'plastic plants'.

While the fierce debate rages on, with the populist vote due to be counted real soon, my attention has been diverted to other very important issues.

I am moving in to the unchartered waters of electronics, and am leaving it all to old and trusted top bloke Andy Harris of the excellent RoadPro company (google them out - they do all sorts of 12-volt things for boats and trucks and things). I've known Andy for years and if he says I need a QC7622 then I believe him.

All he asked was what I wanted to do on my boat. And of course I want to play my 1970's top quality Grundig hifi, complete with Grundig Audiorama spherical speakers, all of which have been languishing in the garage for ages, just waiting for the Boat For My Hifi, er, Potplants to come along.

So very soon I should be rigging up the solar-panel, leisure battery, fitting kit, regulator and inverter, so that I can blast out Steely Dan, Harry Nilsson and ELO to my heart's content.

Hmmm, I wonder who else could I play to the good people of Wivenhoe?

Eruptions!

With only a week to go before the launch of the Boat For My Potplants, it's not only the controversy surrounding whether or not I should wear my new Captain's hat that rages on.

No indeed, there's a new eruption that's affected the Watson household, with 'erindoors declaring that she won't be setting foot on deck if I decide to go ahead with my plans that were casually brought up in conversation last night.

And I'm not talking about the Eyjafjallajökull eruption either.

I thought it was perfectly reasonable, now that I have ordered made-to-measure planters from Barry of Saffron Walden, that I should become concerned about the practicalities of daily plant-watering, and that my solution would be to use artificial plants - which are really quite life-like these days.

Well, you could have knocked me down with a feather. The room went deathly quiet. The atmosphere could have been cut with a knife.

"Artificial plants!!??!!", my wife shouted. "Yes, it's a great idea, and it would save having to carry water to the boat every day", I reasoned. But maybe I'm wrong. I'm so confused.

Who is right? Artificial or Real? You decide. I'll democratically go with popular opinion. Please advise your vote.

Full Steam Ahead

Jay's bringing the motor.
Martin's coming alongside with his speedboat.
Gerry's ready with the tow-rope in-case of breakdown.
Adam's coming from miles away.
Martyn's taking command of 'driving'.
Jane's making the cushions.
Sarah's stitching the canopy.
Andy's sealing the window leak.
Neil's bringing his tools.
Paul's revving up the tractor.
The pub's open.
Ann and Ed got me the Captain's cap.
Alan's making the cuppa.
I've put a floor down.
The 18th of July is only two weeks away.

Exhilaration, Confidence, Trepitadion and Excitement

Exhilaration:
I've been able to remake the bunk area. The old wood was completely rotten and had to be completely removed. It was extraordinarily hot inside the boat and I was producing more sweat than I've ever known. I didn't think I had the skill to do it, but I'm exhilarated that I did - all by myself.

Confidence:
Martin from Wivenhoe has given me the confidence that it is indeed possible to bring The Boat For My Potplants up-river to Wivenhoe under its own steam, using its own low-power outboard motor, along with the incoming tide.

Trepidation:
After being in my comfort zone of working on the boat on dry land for so long, I'll be navigating unchartered waters - for me at least - by bringing the boat into the river for the first time. I do hope that my feelings of trepidation are unfounded.

Excitement:
This started out as an open invitation to the boat's launch on Sunday afternoon on 18th July, and I didn't really expect anyone would actually come to it. Now, apparently, many people will be turning up to witness the arrival of the boat at its new home outside the Rose And Crown pub. How exciting!

It's jolly lucky that I've just found out that I've won something! Last week I randomly put my business card into a prize draw jar on the bar at said pub. And I've just received notification that I'm the winner of a £50 bar tab.

So, if you get there before the boat does, go and get a drink on me at the pub - first come, first served. If you get there after the boat arrives, don't worry, I'll be bringing plenty of bubbly on board with me.

Mmmmm, delicious Lambrini!

Why Didn't I Think Of That?

Top Bloke of Wivenhoe, Martyn Carrick, was chatting to me the other day and said that he thought I was doing it all wrong, when he asked me how I was planning to get the boat from Alresford to Wivenhoe on July 18th.

'I'm going to be towed by my brother-in-law's's speedboat, my step-dad's motorboat, or Paul's sailing boat, or perhaps all three', I said.

'Pah', said Martyn. 'You should bring The Boat For My Potplants under its own steam'.

'But I only have a 4hp motor', I explained.

'Then we should borrow a larger one', retorted Martyn.

I was slightly taken aback. I was in my comfort zone of thinking that by being towed it was all down to someone else. Martyn brought me out of that comfort zone, by making me realise that, yes, actually, he's damned-well right. Now why didn't I think of that?

The Boat For My Potplants is worthy of more than being simply towed. After all this hard work, it bloody well ought to make it to Wivenhoe on its own.

On Saturday I went out on a boat to get some practice for all this mullarky. And now, I've got to find a motor...

And Now For The Final Push

There's so much to do and so little time.

On Friday I finished the windscreen in order to attach the canopy to it.

And on Saturday, I was on a mission to get the interior floor all done by midday, and by jove I did it!

Now all I really NEED to do is to sort out the canopy. With wishful thinking, I excitedly unfolded it from its storage bag and clipped it to my newly-rebuilt, nice and strong windscreen. I stood back to admire my work, hoping that the canopy COULD be recommissioned. It was a hope against hope, and I have had to accept defeat. Even I have to admit it looks Crap, with a capital C!

But fear not! I have met up with the magnificent Sarah, of Sail And Cover Ltd, near Ipswich. She is coming to my rescue, thank goodness.

At this stage suffice to say I think she's on my wavelength. In fact, I know so. As soon as she offered to make me a multi-coloured canopy for the Boat For My Potplants, I knew we were destined to work together and for her to join in with the fun.

As Big A Plonker As Rodney

What a plonker I am! For hours today I have been repairing, re-making and renovating the windscreen for the Boat For My Potplants.

It had all come apart before the boat even got as far as Alresford Creek, so when it arrived I was faced with four sections of rotten-framed window. In fact five sections, since one of them had become two.

I hadn't a clue about which one went where, so I put on my thinking cap - and thought hard. Obviously I didn't think hard enough, for it was only when I stood back to admire my handy-work that I realised something wasn't quite tickety-boo.

There was a gap where a gap shouldn't have been. I tried to decrease the gap by screwing the screw tighter. The wood went snap. I said a naughty word out loud. Then I saw the light (through the gap), and noticed something odd with the angles. Why were they obtuse, when they should have been acute? (I now know that my O'level maths lessons would eventually come in handy one day).

I only got my port and starboard back to front, didn't I?

Watson, you absolute plonker.

Boat For My Potplants launch 18th July

I should be able to muster up a few beers and wine to celebrate - and even some bubbly perhaps - so come on down on Sunday JULY 18th, when my Boat For My Potplants will be officially re-launched on the River Colne and brought a mile or so up-river to its mooring outside The Rose And Crown in Wivenhoe.

High tide is at 6pm, and we will be putting the boat in the water at 4pm at Alresford Creek, so that it can be towed in to position on the incoming tide, to arrive at the pub by six.

There's still a lot of essential work to be done (windscreen re-build, canopy re-make, interior floor re-fit), but I'm confident that it can be completed in time, so long as a) I get my finger out, b) the weather is kind and c) 'erindoors doesn't have too many other ideas like going shopping and the like.

All are welcome to witness this exciting (for me, at least) event. That includes followers of my Boat For My Potplants blog, readers of Essex Life Magazine, members of the Norman Boats Appreciation Society, the good people of Alresford Creek Boat Owners Association, friends and family, and of course 'erindoors, without whose patience my Boat For My Potplants would still be just a dream of an idea.

Ejected from diy store!

Yesterday I went into the two-lettered diy store in Colchester.

The sales assistant was clearly already a little impatient with me while I was thinking how I should fix the flooring on the boat's cockpit, the timbers of which are completely rotten.

Firstly, I asked the man to carry a heavy sheet of external plywood to the cutting saw. Then I changed my mind for equally heavy external MDF, so he returned the ply and struggled over with the MDF instead. I hesitated some more, and scratched my head, pondering the prices. I could sense that he was becoming a bit miffed. 'I think I'll have the ply, after all', I said, sheepishly.

He probably thought I was having a laugh at his expense. He impatiently asked me what it was for, and I explained it was for my Boat For My Potplants. By now he was convinced I was really taking the proverbial, as I could see him turn visibly redder in the face.

'What you want is decking', he said. So I thumped him first, before he had the chance to get one over on me!

Only kiddin'! In fact, the chap couldn't have been more helpful as he found countless offcuts of plywood for me - for only £4!!! And not only that, the decking was on special offer at less than £2 a plank.

So, now I can really B&Q it, in time for the official launch date of the Boat For My Potplants, which will be on Sunday 18th July.

I hope you can come along. Full details of this exciting event will be posted on the next blog.

I Hope They Work

Now, dear bloggees, it is time to bore thee with the subject of RUBBING STRAKES. Not rubbing strips or rubber strakes...No, sirree...Now that I am a member of the boating community, no less than a member of the Norman Boat Appreciation Society (even though technically I don't have a Norman Boat), and also a member of the Alresford Creek Boat Owners' Association (even though technically I don't live in Alresford), I am, nevertheless, now slightly knowledgeable in the terms of things used on boats. Such as RUBBING STRAKES.

RUBBING STRAKES are the bits of wood down the side of the boat, generally to protect the boat from damage. And my Boat For My Potplants didn't have any. No, technically, that's not correct...it did have them, but they were so rotten that they actually had weeds growing out of them. Not just any old weeds - mine were king-size.

So, off they had to come. And replacements had to be fitted. 'How much???', I asked, shocked at the £400 price tag associated with teak. 'Anything cheaper?', I asked. Iroko was still unaffordable at £200. I finally settled on PINE SKIRTING BOARD from B&Q, at a price of around £10 each side.

I HOPE THEY WORK, and that I don't have to do it all again next year. The method in my madness is that, despite advice from all and sundry, I have used a softwood, due to its cheap price-tag. I have coated it with wood-hardner. I have Dulux SuperGrip Primed it. I have undercoated it. I have silicon-sealed it along the top. I cut it in to sections to fit around the boat-side. And I have top-coated it twice with "Totally Cocoa" Dulux exterior brown paint, similar in shade to mahogany. I HOPE THEY WORK, 'cos I don't want to be doin' all that again in a hurry.

But, you see, my wallet is thin, but my time is fat. I have no deadline to meet, except my own. And I'm always willing to learn by my mistakes - but on this occasion, I HOPE I DON'T HAVE TO.

I've Got An Idea

This week I bought the June edition of Essex Life Magazine, and my eyes popped out when I got to page 13, and read by own blog, there in full-on black and white. They used the one where I'd described going to a wedding with paint on my ear. But what stood out for me is that it included two references to Dulux SuperGrip Primer.

Now, call me old fashioned - but do I see an opportunity opening up here before my very eyes? I see product placement and sponsorship deals galore. All I have to do is to include some well-chosen desired brand-names, contact their PR agencies, and I could be floating my boat in decadence in next to no time.

So, to prepare for this new direction in my venture, I shall practice here and now with a new-style of blog. Here goes...

"As I bring My Boat For My Potplants up the river, using my powerful new Yamaha 10 hp motor, moor up outside the fabuloso gastro-pub, the Rose And Crown (great for lunches), I look at my accurate Breitling watch. 'Goodness. Is that the time already?' It's Pimms o'clock. That cool, refreshing drink that goes so well on these occasions. So I break open several bottles, but one of my guests prefers Bollinger Champagne. Or could that be Crux? One can't be too fussy, you know".

By jove, I think I could have the jist of something big here. But before I get too carried away, I must concentrate on fitting those new rubbing strakes today. I check the meagre contents of my wallet, and decide on using pine skirting boards, costing a tenner from B&Q. I'd better go and collect them in my second-hand van before the exhaust falls off again. I'm sure the journey in a Bentley Mulsanne would give such a better driving experience.

Oops. I'm off again.

Getting there

Slowly but surely, the task of breathing new life into an old boat that has seen better days is gradually progressing. My thoughts are being diverted for a few days ahead, away from stripping, painting, pulpits, antifowling and windows. Alas, I must go to Istanbul for my annual bike ride with my mates, Paul, Martin and Mike. It's not going to be easy, I can tell you, tearing myself away from The Boat For My Potplants, but these things are sent to try us.

Unbelievably, I've been granted permission for us to hurtle by pedal-power around the F1 race track, scene of this month's Turkish Grand Prix soon after our Easyjet arrives tomorrow afternoon, subject to strikes and volcanic ash. Then we'll be crossing the Sea of Marmara to the beautiful island of Buyukada where no cars are allowed. And I've just been informed by Steve, another friend who's currently there, that we should prepare ourselves for the 30 degree heat. It's going to be a tough job, but someone has to do it. I of course will take my boat pictures with me so that I don't get too homesick. And a picture of the wife too, if there's room in my rucksack.

I'm already torn between being on that boat tomorrow evening as we sail into the sunset, and being on my boat in order to complete whatever the next job will be. But I'll be back by Monday, subject to strikes and volcanic ash, ready for the final push to get the Boat For My Potplants finally upstream and outside The Rose And Crown.

Mud, mud, glorious mud

There was something great about today.

Despite it being cold and drizzly, and to be honest there were more comfortable ways of spending a Sunday morning, but there was indeed a great sense of mucking in together for a common cause. It was a dirty, rotten job, but someone had to do it, and fortunately many hands made light work.

We had all been invited to turn up with the incentive that at 10am we could enjoy Alan's mugs of tea, and bacon and sausage baps with lashings of tomato sauce. After stuffing ourselves we set to with the serious task of clearing the slipway of mud and sludge ready for launching our boats into the creek during the coming weeks.

The Boat For My Potplants is coming closer and closer to that magical day, so I felt it was only fair that I joined in. After all, I'd be wanting to use the slipway just like everyone else, so I turned up to do my bit.

I'm glad I did. There was something great about wallowing up to my knees in mud, but more than that there was something great about being among all these boating enthusiasts.

Yes, there was certainly something great about today.

It Seemed So Reasonable To Me

'Can't you even make yourself look decent for a special occasion?', said my wife, at yesterday's wedding of our friends Cathy and Andrew. It was too late to do anything about my ear by then, which she had noticed was covered in paint, just as we were about to go in to the ceremony. A minor mistake that anyone could have made, I thought.

You see, it was no ordinary paint, and I tried to explain how necessary it had been that I'd used Dulux SuperGrip Primer (and I discovered that SuperGrip Primer doesn't scratch off from skin very easily. Well, not at all, in fact), and that it had been essential for me to quickly nip to the boat just before we were due to leave home, so that I could put a coat on the window surrounds. It simply had to be done, I said in my defense, so that I'd be able to get the undercoat on in time for the top coat to get dry before the windows were due to go back in on Monday. My explanation didn't seem to improve the situation. Maybe trying to justify my mistake was also a mistake.

Countless fellow guests came up to me, 'helpfully' pointing to my ear asking 'Is that paint on your ear?'

I offered what I thought was a perfectly reasonable story that I'd had to paint my Boat For My Potplants shortly before leaving home. 'Your what for your what?', came the response. I decided to cut my losses, concentrate on my canapes, and just say that my wife had failed to noticed the state of my ear until it was too late.

For some reason that proved to be my worst mistake.

It's Good To Have A Deadline

Deadlines are good. They help to focus the mind. Otherwise everything would happen manana, including the launch of The Boat For My Potplants.

Bloggees may recall that I'd previously mentioned a date of April 17th, when I'd be launching the boat and bringing it (her?) upstream to Wivenhoe Quay to sit proudly outside The Rose And Crown.

However, I was inexperienced, over-ambitious and a wee bit foolhardy when I'd set myself that deadline. In my defense, it wasn't really a deadline - more a guideline that was inevitably going to be broken. Looking back at the old girl's condition, it's no wonder things took a little longer than anticipated.

I've since become wise in the knowledge and experience that, when talking about boats, everything takes twice as long to do (except for the spending of the money).

But today marks a new guideline, or should I be so bold as to say deadline? With the world's press and media waiting with bated breath, I'd better get it right this time. So, for accuracy, I've invited my friend Neil Rowland (he being the person who's father the boat previously belonged to) to work with me on some essential tasks, and I'm sure at the end of today a realistic date for the launch party will have been set.

Watch this space. Start looking through your wardrobes to choose your outfit. The date for the hottest ticket in town will soon be announced!

Star Man of Colchester

Following on from my last blog, I did look for, and find, the phone number for Colchester Motor Glass, after the debacle of spending half a day with a friend trying to fit a new window. It ended up becoming a rather interesting convex and concave shape, and splitting the surrounding rubber seal. This was due to said friend and me trying to fit the window inside-out and upside-down and making the skies even blue-er than they were, with our rather distasteful swearing in the process.

Super-Hero Andy, from Colchester Motor Glass has come to the rescue, by offering to re-fit the window and supply a new seal, all for a very reasonable price. And while he's at it, he's also going to re-fit all the other windows as well, for what I consider a good deal. Not only that, he is sourcing chrome-inserts for the seals, which I think will look super-cool.

But what about painting the window frames? Whilst the windows are out, this would present the ideal time for painting. 'No problem', says Andy. 'I can take the windows out one day, let you paint the surrounds, and then refit the windows with the new seals on another day'.

Now that's what I call service. Only the sort of service one can find from a local specialist, rather than a non-personal national conglomerate. So the moral of the story is to seek out the independents and give them the chance to soar with you and share in the fun. I for one am looking forward to inviting Andy aboard my Boat For My Potplants for a beer and a warm welcome.

Some Steps Forward And Some Steps Back

I found a local company to cut a new window while I waited. A step forward.

'PUSH!', said Greg, who had come to work with me for a couple of days, as we struggled to replace the broken one. After what seemed hours, we finally got the new one in, ruining the rubber surround in the process. And why was the window so bowed? The next morning we realised we had put it in back to front. A step back.

The Ronseal floor paint, with 'added slip protection' that I used to paint the deck worked a treat and soon became rock-hard, which was a step forward. The Dulux Exterior Trade paint that I used on the cabin side looked nice. The next morning though, when it just rubbed off where it had overlapped the floor paint wasn't so good. A step back.

The Houdini hatch cover was rotten and needed repair. After new batons were fitted to hold the perspex, and with a sand and varnish, it looked great, which was a step forward. The next day when I went to fit it, I discovered the new batons didn't quite fit over the lip of the hatch and it had to be taken apart. A step back.

And so it went on. Some patching up here and some sanding there. The sander billowed smoke and became as useless as a chocolate fireguard.

But in the end some serious steps forward had been made; the antifowling got painted dark blue with success, although Greg did look a bit strange with blue hair.

And the pulpit came up a treat with the special metal primer and Hammerite silver that I'd found in the garage.

So all in all, I'd say that, thanks to Greg, there were more steps forward than back, which must count as a success. The weather was glorious, and we were two boys playing on an old boat.

All I have to do now is find that number for Colchester Motor Glass and see if they can come and fit the window properly.

The Kingfisher Rises

Like a giant phoenix rising from the ashes to fly again, here we have the Kingfisher, aka A Boat For My Potplants, beginning to show signs of new life, getting ready to soar across the mighty ocean.

Or at least here we have a 35-year-old river cruiser with a freshly painted coat of primer on it, getting prepared for its one-mile journey up the river from Alresford Creek to Wivenhoe. Not quite as grand as a phoenix, but equally thrilling.

There's still so much to do. Undercoat, top coat, antifowling, wooden strips, windows. Luckily this isn't a race. This project is not to be hurried, but to be enjoyed to the full.

I realise I can't afford to bring my Boat For My Potplants back to its original condition. But a wise man came up to me while I was painting this week said: "Spend what time and money you can afford, and be content".

I'm so glad I met him.

What's In A Name? I'm so confused.

If I could have a gold dubloon, or even a bronze one, for each time I'm been asked what the name of my boat is, I'd be a very wealthy captain for sure - at least wealthy enough to buy a tin of marine paint.

The name painted on the side was "Solace", but I've now just uncovered a previous name of "Tarka".

I've been advised that it's unlucky to alter the name of a boat. Is that true, I wonder? The change from Tarka to Solace clearly didn't seem to do it any harm (ie. it didn't sink), and so it follows that the threat of bad luck is bunkum, and that it can be re-christened with any new name of choice. And I must admit I am rather looking forward to cracking open a bottle of Moet as 'I name this boat...'. Any excuse!

Although the vessel does have this 'working title' just for fun, I am wondering if I could officially re-name it "A Boat For My Potplants" without fear of impending doom. After all, the original idea of having the boat was to use it as a garden upon which to sit and read my newspaper among my potplants, whilst slowly drinking a cool beer during the balmy summer evenings. The name would be very apt.

But is A Boat For My Potplants too much of a mouthful, as some folks have suggested?

Might the unusual name raise too many eyebrows, as others have warned?

Or should its name revert to the previous Solace? Or the original Tarka?

Or should a new name entirely be given? If so, what could it possibly be?

Any suggestions please? I'm so confused!

STOP PRESS: I've just heard from Ron, the previous owner, who has sent me the following breaking news...Now I've even more unsure what to call her...

'Forgot to tell you the boat has had a third name for the last 10years or so and that was "Kingfisher" named after a real kingfisher which was often seen on the boat when moored.'

Rain Stops Play

8am
So I gets up in the morning, bright and breezy, with a spring in me step, all ready to get crackin' on the Boat For Me Potplants. Being nice and sunny, today'll be perfect for paint-strippin' and sandin', in preparation for primin' and glossin' some day very soon. Then I'll be able to brings her up river to the mooring right outside the pub.
9am
But the wife says 'Darling, how about we go out for a coffee and croissant at the local cafe, being that it's such a nice day?' So I keeps her sweet and goes along.
10am
Then I thinks I should gets me some sanding belts, so I phones round and decides to go in to Colchester to get some. Ker-ching! Another fifteen quid down the hole.
11am
As I drives back I notices the sun going behind some clouds. Undeterred, I goes to the boat shed at Alresford to get crackin'.
12 noon
I pokes the plug of me 30m reel of cable through a hole in the wall and walks round to the door and clambers over heaps of junk to plug it in, and walks back round again to discover that it's not long enough to reach me boat, so I borrows another 30m reel and plugs it in to the first one. Someone chats to me and I don't wants to be anti-social, so I chats back. I then clambers up the ladder at the side of the boat, carryin' the cable and sander.
1pm
I starts up the sander and I gets going. But the small white clouds of earlier are now large black ones, and it begins to rain. So I climbs down the ladder and runs to cover up the cable reel. Then the shower stops and the sun comes out and I climbs back up the ladder and carries on where I left off.
2pm
Then I looks at the time and remembers that at four o'clock friends are coming up from London for the weekend. After a few more minutes sandin', the rain comes again, this time more than a shower.
3pm
So I decides to call it a day. I gives up. I packs up me things and goes home. I wants to play on me boat but today it's just not meant to be.

Doh!

And the winning song is...

Well, dear bloggees, I could hardly have imagined such a huge response to the search for a signature tune for The Boat For My Potplants, especially from the members of the Norman Boats Appreciation Society (www.normanboats.co.uk). Thanks to all who put on their thinking caps. I particularly liked Strangerover's suggestion of The Boatman by The Levellers for its lovely poignant lyrics...

If I could choose the life I please
Then I would be a boatman
On the canals and the rivers free
No hasty words are spoken
My only law is the river breeze
That takes me to the open seas
If I could choose the life I please
Then I would be a boatman
Buccaneer's entry of Messing About On The River is just brilliant, and wholeheartedly deserves a place on the podium.

I was going to award top prize to DF's idea of the theme from Hawaii Five-O, which I can just imagine blaring out from the early '70s stereo that came with the boat, as I take it on its maiden voyage from Alresford Creek to its new mooring in Wivenhoe, about a mile away.

But today I spent eight hours non stop scraping, scraping, scraping and scraping. A multitude of different coloured paints lay beneath layer upon layer. The paint-stripper mangled them all together like the colours of a rainbow.

There was Red and Yellow and Pink and Green. Orange and Purple and Blue. By jove, that's it!
I can sing a rainbow. Excellent!

It's just not fun any more

It's just not fun anymore.

In the good old days of the mid '70's around the time that the Boat For My Potplants was built, it would have been fun to sit at the captain's table, glasses of rum in hand, trying to think up boat-related songs to adopt as the boat's 'signature tune'.

Many hours would have been pleasantly passed, recalling the likes of Michael Row The Boat Ashore (Harry Belafonte) or Rock The Boat (Hues Corporation). Or how about Moon River by Andy Williams or Many Rivers To Cross by Jimmy Cliff? And if one was feeling less than optimistic about the boat's future there's always Six Months In A Leaky Boat by Split Enz, or, God forbid, Wait Till Your Boat Goes Down by XTC!

But nowadays it's simple to look things up on the computer. Hours have been turned to seconds, and a bottle is now a thimble. It's just not fun any more.

But as for the Boat For My Potplants - well that's a different matter.

Virtual Tour Guide

A little step at a time

I've figured it out. Instead of looking at the whole boat and the huge task that lays ahead, I will from now on focus on a small section at a time. I'll set myself a target, and reward myself if I achieve it.

So on Sunday I focused on the rusty old screws sticking out of the sides. They had to be removed somehow. Each one needed to be hack-sawed off and each one would take several minutes to do. Balancing on one leg on the ladder and leaning over to get the right angle for sawing was not ideal. There were around forty to do along the top row.

That meant a lot of sawing. My arms ached. I just worked away on those screws until they were all gone.

I've still got the same number to do along the bottom row, but that's for the next day.

My reward? To stand back and admire my Boat For My Potplants in the bright sunshine and allow myself a daydream of one day sitting on its deck outside the Rose And Crown drinking a cold beer.

A source of comfort or consolation.

A source of comfort or consolation. That's the definition of 'Solace', and that's the name written on the Boat For My Potplants.

And that was most certainly how I felt yesterday while I tirelessly worked morning till night busying myself with pulling out sodden planks and floorboards, rotten cushions and damp curtains. I pondered about the dozens of people who must have previously experienced solace and happy times during their holidays.

I wondered what the boat could tell if it had a life of its own. What could it say about its years of being hired out to folks, possibly on the Norfolk Broads

But of course it does have a life of its own. It has merely been in a deep sleep, and now it's being woken up to its new life in Wivenhoe.

It's all in the planning

If I plan this right, with the aid of CPA (Critical Path Analysis), which is something I vaguely remember being taught at school in Business Studies, I should be able to get my Boat For My Potplants ready to sit on by the middle of April, just by the Rose And Crown pub.

By scientific planning, I will get the anti-fowling done, and the paint-stripping, re-painting and essential repairs. It is now that I place my finger in the air to arrive at a completion date, which is...er, Sunday 18th April.

The art of scientific planning starts right now. Here and now.

My plan is to take some sandwiches with me so that I can get a full day's work in. But I'm just not sure whether to take cheese and tomato, or ham and mustard.

Hmmm, I wasn't taught that at school...I've got so much to learn when it comes to The Boat For My Potplants.

Doh!

Today something was different - the warm sun was on my back for the first time in weeks, and I felt like I could conquer the world. So at 5pm I quickly packed up my work-things and dashed off in my van to the boat. I set up my step-ladder and climbed aboard. It didn't seem to matter that what I saw in front of me was a complete wreck.

At 6pm dark skies descended and I went home.

I poured and drank a glass of wine to celebrate my renewed enthusiasm, and then went in the bathroom to run myself a hot bath.

As I drank another glass of wine I reflected on how a sense of calm had come over me on the boat while I was sorting out the rotten flooboards. I also reflected on how Paul, the boatyard keeper, had kindly turned up and showed me where I could hook up electric power from inside the boat-shed. And then I reflected on how just a few simple words of encouragement from some buddies had turned negative to positive.

Due thanks go to old school chum Neil Hart in California; to Nick-Two-Pots, my new friend in Wivenhoe; and to Neil Rowland, the Rear Admiral of The Boat For My Potplants.

Five minutes later I went back to the bathroom, only to discover that I'd forgotten to put the plug in the bath. Too much reflecting? Too much wine, more like. Doh!

Oh God, what have I done?

That's another fine mess I've got myself in. After the euphoria of getting the Boat For My Potplants to Alresford Creek, I went back to look at it sitting forlonly on its blocks. I climbed up my stepladder and peered inside. Where there was once a canopy, now there isn't. Where there was once a windscreen, now there isn't. Where there was once a floor, now there isn't.

Everything had to be chucked inside the cabin so that the boat could safely be towed along the road at 50mph. And now I can't even clamber inside. To call it a mess is an understatement.

It was raining les chats et les chiens. I was tired after having been up all night. The realisation of what I had done suddenly sank in. That's not all that will be sunk if I don't get this wreck sorted. Oh God, what have I done?

Life was simple before I got a Boat For My Potplants. Will I ever learn? Naah! Probably not.

Operation Completed!

3am: Go to bed at my friend Vaughn's house in London after staying up all evening.
4.30am: Get up.
5am: Meet my son Oliver outside tube station.
7am: Arrive at Alresford Creek. Meet brother-in-law Martin, and Boatyard John.
7.10am: Andy in Jaguar and trailer towing A Boat For My Potplants arrive.
7.15am: Andy backs trailer and boat into position.
7.30am: Andy, John and Martin set up blocks for boat to rest on.
7.50am: Trailer is pulled away from under boat.
8am: All done. Hands are shaken for a job well done

During whole operation I watch helplessly and uselessly, but nonetheless acting as
Very Important Chief Photographer for Very Important Blogsite.

Saturday Morning 7 am

Not quite having the same ring to it as the delightful "Wednesday Morning 3am" by Simon And Garfunkel, it will nevertheless be music to my ears when the trailer turns up at the yard at Alresford Creek, pulling the Boat For My Potplants.

Then it will be a matter of all hands on deck, or rather all hands pulling, pushing, lifting and shoving, until we get the magnificent vessel on to blocks and drums.

Oh, what a day!

Countdown to Ecstacy

As well as being the best album to come from Steely Dan by far, Countdown To Ecstacy is where we are now at for The Boat For My Potplants.

As well as all those who have helped to make this leg of the adventure possible thus far, I particularly salute Paul Killick from the Arlesford Creek Boat Owners' Association for being so helpful. Thanks, Paul. All you others will be saluted in due course, but you know who you are.

The Countdown To Ecstacy goes like this: there has been a slight change of plan in that the boat is now being brought on Saturday morning...arriving at seven o'clock in the morning!!!

And that's not all! On Friday night I will be with my mates in London, staying up all night playing music, probably till around 3am!!! So I will then grab a couple of zzzz's in the early hours, and then head up the A12, just in time to meet Andy from the St Neots Marina at seven, who will be towing the Boat For My Potplants...behind a blinking Jag!!! How, I don't know...but I have faith.

It's (Nearly) All Good News Indeed!

Good news! I've been to see Paul Killick at the Alresford Creek Boat Owners' Association, and he couldn't have been more helpful. He says I can keep the Boat For My Potplants at his yard whilst I am working on it. He's already allocated me a space.

Good news! Alresford Creek is an easy bike ride from home. So it will be easy for my lovely wife to bring me sarnies and tea to keep me going through the day.

Good news! I can join the A.C.B.O.A for just £10, and then I can join in to the boating community. This is especially good news, as they will be meeting regularly at...The Sailing Club in Wivenhoe!

Good news! I called in to ALDI today and discovered that from tomorrow, they will be selling a portable generator for £59, and even with 3-year guarantee. Just what I need!

Good news! I also called in to Waitrose to buy my March issue of Essex Life, and...we're in it again!

Good news! St Neots Marina are all geared up to bring the boat over on Wednesday next week.

Good news! My great mate and film-maker extraordinaire Mark Wesley may be able to come over on Wednesday to film the proceedings. And then we can put it on YouTube.

Slightly less good news...It's going to take longer to move the boat off the trailer and on to blocks than if it were to be put straight in the water. More time equals more cost.

Oh well, I can't complain can I? It's not every day I get given a 22-foot river cruiser complete with outboard motor, all for free!

Wey Hey. Here We Go!!

Today is the day when the future of The Boat For My Potplants will be decided.

The meeting is set for me to meet with the very helpful Paul at Alresford Creek, who I am crossing my fingers and toes will be receptive to the boat being brought to his domain next week. That's NEXT WEEK!!!

It's all 'appenin' now

Yes indeed, dear bloggees! After what seems weeks of inactivity, things finally seem to be coming to a head. You see, I've had a problem. The Boat For My Potplants is in St Neots. I am in Wivenhoe. It takes two and a half hours to drive to St Neots. And then it rains. (And then I get paint-stripper on me). And I need to do some work on the boat before it is put in the water here, and the work has to be done when the boat is on dry land.

So on Monday I went to the Wivenhoe Sailing Club to ask if it would be possible for me to put the boat on their land while I work on it, and then use their slipway to launch it in the water.

'Does it have a motor?', I was asked at the Sailing Club. The clue is in the word 'sailing'. Enough said! You can guess the rest.

However, they did very kindly point me in the right direction, as well as the door. They gave me the name of the man to speak to at Alresford Creek Boat Owners Association. They don't mind motor boats there.

So, next Wednesday, 24th February is the day when the Boat For My Potplants will be coming to its new (temporary) home. Watch this space dear Bloggees for further details of the Boat Coming To A Place Near You.

Crikey!

Crikey! The Boat For My Potplants seems to have grown, now that it's been pulled out of the river.

Crikey! There was a ton of crud and barnacles on the bottom.

Crikey! My arm doesn't 'alf ache, after hours of scraping.

Crikey! Brushing paint-stripper is hazardous to one's health.

Crikey! Splashes of paint-stripper don't bode well on the skin!

Crikey! I look like I've been in the ring with Mike Tyson!

Crikey! What have I let myself in for?!!!

Doing The Hokey Cokey

On climbing aboard my Boat For My Potplants, we (my friend Neil Rowland and I) most certainly did put our left leg in followed by our right arm. It was the only way we could climb on, through the gaps in the cover and tarpaulin that have been protecting the cabin for several years.

As we waited patiently for the marina's tow-boat to arrive we could hear the sound of a put-put coming towards us.

'I hope it's not that tiny thing', said Neil, as he spotted the titchy craft in the distance. Of course, sure enough, it was, driven by Andy from the marina. And what a nice guy Andy is. Full of enthusiasm and joy to be spending his working days with boats. It's because of people like Andy that made the day so special, as he expertly towed us along the river and through the lock.

It's all to do with the folks that I'm meeting along the way of this great life-adventure.

That's What It's All About!

Sink and Soar

My heart sank.

I crawled through the canopy and fell in to the boat, and the true scale of the task that lay ahead dawned upon me as I surveyed the vessel and all its years of decay.

Shiver-me-timbers and shiver my body. We waited on the Boat For My Potplants for the marina's tow boat to turn up. It was cold. It was damp. It was cloudy.

I took up my position for the ride.

Half a mile up the river it was still cold. It was still damp. But as we approached the lock the sun came out, and the Canada geese took off in flight from the water just in front of us as we put-putted along. It was glorious.

And my heart soared.

And The Winner Is....ME!

Yes, dear Bloggees, the winner is most certainly me, because tomorrow is the BIG day in which I will go to move the Boat For My Potplants in its first phase, from Little Paxton, up the Great River Ouse, to the marina at St Neots, where it will be pulled up the slipway by a mighty tractor.

I am a winner indeed because not only will I be able to smell the mighty tractor in all its diesel glory, but I will also be able to stand on deck of my Boat For My Potplants as it is towed along the river and through a lock.

I'm staying at my mate Neil's house tonight so that we can be up at the crack of dawn and be off to his dad's (the present owner) place. I am duly equipped with the necessary equipment to extract the gallons of water that have collected inside the hull before we 'set sail'.

I am so excited that I can hardly contain my bilge pump!

and and and and and

Captain Pugwash was standing on the deck of The Boat For My Potplants along with his Rear-Admiril Coruthers, and looking inland at the Rose And Crown.

How did he string a sentence together, that made sense, that included five "and"s consecutively?

The answer is in the "ROSE AND CROWN" sign on the wall.

'Rear Admiril Coruthers', said Captain Pugwash, 'Have you noticed the words on the sign for this public house are not spaced correctly?'

'What do you mean, Captain?', asked Coruthers, attentively.

'The spaces between "ROSE" and "AND", and "AND" and "CROWN" are not equal.'

And I'd Like To Thank...

Crumbs Corruthers! I never thought it would be such a logistical ordeal to move a blinkin' old boat from one place to another! But nevertheless, with the assistance of Andy and John at St Neots Marina, My Boat For My Potplants will be towed from Little Paxton for a mile along the River Ouse to the marina next Friday.

But this is just a small part of this journey, this adventure. There are other people along the way who have now become part of the team, part of the crew.

Without my friend Neil, I would never have been offered the chance to have a boat in the first place, and without his father, Ron (the boat's owner), I would never have been given it.

Without Martin (of Eastern Garage, Finchingfield), I would not be able to ensure the outboard motor works, and without Kevin (of Boat Moving Solutions in Ipswich) I would not be able to trailer the boat to Wivenhoe.

Without Jane and Brian (mooring owners), I would not have such a fine position for the boat next to the Rose And Crown in Wivenhoe, and without Julian (Editor of Essex Life), I would not be writing about this on Essex Life's blogsite.

Without Jillie (my decorating client and donator of curtains), I would not have any stripy material to pull myself together with (the old jokes are the best), and without Mark (ex DJ) and Greg (experienced sailor) down the pub, I would not have any more whacky ideas to laugh over with a few pints in hand.

Of course, without Jane (my wife), I would not have got this far.

And thankfully, without my, er, friends, Paul, Mike and Jay (who tried to persuade me to take the boat to Wivenhoe via the North Sea), I'd probably be at the bottom of the ocean by now.

Shiver Me Timbers - we're almost there!

It could well be that NEXT Saturday (13th February) is the day that we embark upon the first phase of the Great Move of The Boat For My Potplants. Ey, ey, Cap'n, yes, Sirree.

The plan is to attach one of the outboard motors to the back of the boat (assuming it works), and after baling out the rain-water that has collected inside her hull, we will be setting off on her first maiden voyage of several years. We'll be going up-river from Little Paxton to St Neots Marina (about one mile, and through a lock), where I hope we'll get the boat pulled out of the river and put up on dry land.

There, the hull will be spray-washed, and inspected for potential essential repairs, and it is then hoped that the following week the boat will be collected by Kevin of Boat Moving Solutions, to take it by road to its new destination of Wivenhoe. I haven't met Kevin yet, but he has managed to instill a certain degree of confidence in to the proceedings that I welcome.

What began as a little pipe-dream has turned in to a logistical monster, involving many people, who I consider part of the (growing) team.

Read more about The Team, in the next blog, coming soon...

Wonerful Wadio Wivenhoe

As some of you dear bloggees may know, I was indeed Barnacle Bill for a whole two hours on the Mark Wesley show, on board Radio Essex's lightship off the coast of Harwich, during the Beeb's celebration of 40 years since the closure of the pirate radio stations .

The taste of radio stardom was just too much for me to bear. I decided there and then that broadcasting was to be in my destiny.

So last week, Mr Wesley and I, who had had more than our fair share of Captain Morgan's rum, came up with the wheeze that I should purchase an iTrip for my iPod and use the tiny FM transmitter to broadcast from the Boat For My Potplants to the good people sitting at the tables outside the Rose And Crown. This would surely make it the most local radio station ever.

How will the patrons of the Rose And Crown be able to tune in? I will, of course, provide a tiny transistor radio for each table.

What will be the first song I should play? "Sailing"? "Sitting On The Dock Of The Bay"? "Messing About On The River"?

We've got plenty of time to decide on the Playlist, but mark my words, the moment will be upon us before we can hoist the Jolly Roger, so get your thinking caps on NOW!

It's CURTAINS for the boat!

Dear bloggees. It certainly is curtains for the boat! As some of you followers may know, I am a mere painter and decorator with aspirations to become a ship's (or at least a river-boat's) captain one day. This week my mind has been turned to curtains. Yes, indeed! Jillie, one of my lovely clients, has not only offered to donate her fine stripy curtains for use on board my Boat For My Potplants, but she is even willing to cut them to size - including the lining! How cool is that?

AND...(yes, there is in fact an 'and' to this exciting week), the marina at St Neots has offered to TOW the boat to its slipway from the present mooring position, which is about a mile away (and via a lock), and then to put the boat up on dry-dock for pressure-washing as well.

AND...(yes, there is even more), my mate Mark (ex-Radio Luxembourg DJ Supremo, and top bloke), who was down the pub with me earlier this week), has come up with a wizard wheeze for how the boat can become the world's most LOCAL PIRATE RADIO STATION. More will be revealed on this blog, coming to you very soon.

I only hope that the good people of Wivenhoe will be of open minds. We'll see!

What's In A Name?

On many occasions I have been asked what the name of the boat is. Of course, it is called A Boat For My Potplants. 'But why?', I hear you ask in unison. The answer, my friends, is blowing in the gale, the answer is blowing in the gale. It is called a Boat For My Potplants because that's the primary raison d'etre for me wanting to get a boat in the first place - just so that I can use it like a garden, and sit among my plants, and read the papers.

'What sort of potplants do you mean, dear boy?', comes the often-asked following question, insinuating something, er, not quite ship-shape or bristol-fashion, if you know what I mean. I tell 'em I'm only considering geraniums, chrysanthemums, pansies and the like, and NOTHING else!' And that's why it's called what it's called', I say.

'But it must have a real name. And you know that it's unlucky to change the name of a boat, don't you?', they say.

'Yes, I reply.' It's real name, painted in fading lettering on the side, is aptly named "SERENITY". 'And that is what it will remain for ever.

Do Do Ron Ron

Welcome, dear bloggees. Last night I was brimming with the excitement of all the latest developments concerning my Boat For My Potplants, and I promised to reveal more today. Being a man of my word, I am going to start with the revelation of who the current owner of the boat is.

It is the very lovable Ron Rowland, who, in his seventies, has now decided that the boat has become too much for him to look after. It has become a liability more than an asset, and it's only going to become more so over the coming years. Which is why he has so kindly offered the boat, which he has owned and cherished for the past 16 years, to me - thanks to the inspiration of his son (and my great friend), Neil Rowland.

It was Neil who put in the initial call to his dad after he and I had been sitting outside the Rose And Crown in Wivenhoe. I was gazing out to the river soon after having moved here, and turned to Neil and said 'One day I'd love to have a boat here.' Thanks, mate! And I mean that most sincerely.

Essex Life and so much more

Eurekakaka! A Boat For My Potplants is now Famous, with a capital F!
It is featured in the February issue of Essex Life Magazine, including a picture!

We have been invited to contribute to the Essex Life blogsite and to make regular contributions to update their readers about the boat's progress. And what excellent progress we've made, to be sure.

In fact there's so much progress to talk about that I simply cannot contain myself any further and have to go and have a lay down to calm the excitement.

So, dear bloggees, until tomorrow...





More details to follow...

I know what it is now!

My boat is a Callumcraft 22. Not a Norman 22, as first thought. The Callumcraft is very similar to the Norman, and is in fact based on the Norman. But it's not quite a Norman. Shall I go on? Okay, I won't just now, but I bet you, dear bloggees, are very relieved to finally learn of its true identity.

Last Friday I had planned to go to the boat at its current mooring in St Neots and to bring back its motor, ready for servicing. But the bad snow prevented me. So, the trip has been rescheduled for this coming Friday. My fingers are firmly crossed that the weather will be kind to us for our second attempt.

And now for some GREAT news concerning the servicing of the outboard motor...and the publication of Essex Life Magazine. I'll tell you tomorrow...

In the meantime, here's a pretty picture of the pub outside of which my Boat For My Potplants will soon be moored...

Snow joke!

It's snow joke. It's been planned for Neil and me to go to his father's garage in St Neots to collect the outboard motor tomorrow. This is in order to get its condition checked over prior to the Great Boat-Moving early in February. However, it's chucking it down with snow this evening, so perhaps a drive from Wivenhoe to St Neots may be a little foolhardy. Drat and double-drat.

Should I stay or should I go?

All will be decided in the morning when I pull back the curtains and look out at the white stuff on the road. I'll keep you posted.

Now, dear bloggees, I remember on an earlier posting I mentioned I had Big Plans for the Boat For My Potplants. Those Big Plans involve making the boat into a pirate radio ship. Sort of. Who would you suggest we get as a DJ? I wonder if Tony Blackburn is busy?

Happy New Year!

Well, dear Bloogers, may I wish you all a very Happy New Year.

The new decade is bound to bring its downs and ups, its low and high tides, its adventures on the stormy seas and calm rivers.

We will be looking at bead-blasting the hull as well as carrying out other essential repair work before the Boat For My Potplants finally settles in its new resting place, here in Wivenhoe. Apart from anything else, a new floor - or is it called a deck? - will be required. Work, work, work. Money, money, money. Fun, fun, fun.

This is the Captain's Blog, signing off for now.

Last Night...

Last night, Christmas 2009, I walked quietly along the quayside at Wivenhoe, in the freezing damp air. The river was calm and still, and no one was about, Wivenhoe's occupants having decided wisely to stay in the warm for their Christmas evening supper.

I wandered casually over to the position on the quayside where the Boat For My Potplants is going to be moored, and gazed dreamily at the empty space, feeling happy with myself for having secured such a prime location for the boat's new home.

It is sure to be an upstream struggle, transporting the boat over from St Neots, getting it ship-shape in the Spring, and finally welcoming friends and family aboard to share the first Captain's Dinner some time in the Summer.

I can't wait!

Definition Of A Boat

I have been reliably informed that the definition of my boat, or any boat for that matter, is a 'hole in the water that you pour money into'. But it's a secret, dear bloggees, between you and me. My wife MUST NOT be informed. But what the heck - in for a penny, in for several pounds. After all, it's not every day that one gets given a boat, so at least one can do is to look after it. And a couple of hundred quid for bead-blasting sounds quite reasonable. And with mooring costs and moving costs, insurance costs and licensing costs, it is, er, cough cough, the season to be jolly. And if I were to be writing this post-sunset instead of pre-sunrise, I'm sure it would all sound jolly cheap indeed, as I sleepily sip my port at the end of the day. Somehow, this morning's tea only serves to make the reality more clear to me.

But good news - I may be joining the Norman Boats Appreciation Society, if the Boat For My Potplants turns out to be a Norman 22. Or could it be a Teal 22? How exciting! Sooner or later all will be revealed as my membership to Yachting And Boating World Forum proves to be invaluable, in the unfolding story that is The Boat For My Potplants.

Now! Under which mattress did I hide that brown paper envelope? Because sadly I can't seem to find it. I'd better buy a Lottery ticket today.

Digereedoo!

Bless my digereedoo! Do you know what it is yet? Well, I do - it's a "Norman 22", that's what it is, diddle, iddle iddle um, by the jolly Court of King Caractucus. Thanks to my new contact who will be transporting the Boat For My Potplants from St Neots to Wivenhoe in February. He obviously knows more than a thing or two about boats, as he so quickly identified the craft.

So now I can begin to research interesting facts about the "Norman 22", and I am sure that you bloggees out there cannot wait to find out more. Well, tie me kangaroo down, Cap'n, all will be revealed in the goodness of time.

Three Stops Past...

This morning I received a text message from my very good, but equally very mad, friends Paul, Mike and Jay, who are trying to pursuade me to take the Boat For My Potplants by river AND sea from its current mooring in St Neots to its new home in Wivenhoe.

In the past I have declared that No Siree Will I Go To Sea, but I do have to admit a faint enthusiasm for such an adventure, despite there being more cons to the pros.

Here are 12 cons, in no particular order...

The boat does not currently have a floor on which to stand safely.
To take it via river / canal / sea will take days, or even weeks.
It will cost a fortune in diesel
I don't even know if the outboard works
It might sink in the sea.
It might capsize in the wind.
It has no electricity. Or toilet that works. (that counts as one con, combined)
I don't have any life-jackets.
We would have to plan meticulously, and time is lacking due to...(next...).
(...next) I'd have to take ages off work.
We might drown.
My mate Greg (who knows a thing or two about boats) has advised that he is re-naming me Dagenham (ie 3 stops past Barking) - for International bloggees, Dagenham and Barking are stations on the London Underground. And Greg says don't do it.

...And 1 pro...
It would be extremely good fun

Just When I Thought...

Just when I thought I had it all sewn up regarding the somewhat two critical questions of a) transportation and b) mooring, I have hit a snag. A jolly big snag at that. Now that the deal has been done for the mooring, I thought it would be prudent to contact the company (who had quoted £275 to transport the Boat For My Potplants) without delay, and book them in the diary for as soon as possible after 1st February.

Alas, their answer came back, saying that their trailer had been involved in an accident and was now out of service. So, it's back to the drawing board to organise transport of the Boat For My Potplants from St Neots to Wivenhoe.

So if any of you fine Bloggees out there have a trailer and a vehicle to tow it, please step up to the mark. Generous quantities of Captain's Rum will be provided upon completion.

Of course if all else fails I suppose the Boat is going to have to be driven (or sailed or rowed) down the river and out to sea. Anyone got any life-jackets for hire?

It's a Done Deal!

Today, on the twelfth of the twelfth, the deal was done between tenant (me) and The Waterlords of Wivenhoe! I officially now have a mooring for my Boat For My Potplants. And what a grand mooring it is! It must be in the most prime position in Wivenhoe that could possibly be wished for - bang smack in front of the Rose And Crown pub. The Rose And Crown is the in the epicentre of Wivenhoe life, especially in the Summer months, when the Boat For My Potplants will surely flourish.

Will it become a sales pitch for The Potplants?
Will it become an Offshore Pirate Radio Ship?
Will it become a Floating Luxury B&B?
Will it be a Summer Rave Disco? - (I haven't yet mentioned this latest idea - watch this space)
Will it become a shrine to Essex Life readers?

The answer is, of course, Yes, Yes, Yes, Yes, and Yes.

We have now answered the questions of HOW to get the boat here, and WHERE it will be placed. Now the remaining question is WHEN?

Buoy oh buoy!!!

Buoy oh buoy, me hearties, shiver me timbers, raise the anchor and set course for Wivenhoe. Because WE HAVE GOT A MOORING!!! I made strong head-way during last night's Important Meeting with the water-lords. I almost swelled up on the poop-deck as negotiations successfully concluded and agreement was made on an even keel.

So, steady as she goes, Cap'n. Thanks to all you bloggees out there for your support and advice. I must stem the tide of my own excitement and prepare for the next installment of the Boat's adventure.

I must admit that I'm rather pleased with the cut of my own jib. Now all I have to do is to fathom out a way to shape a course for getting my Boat For My Potplants to its new home, right bang OUTSIDE THE PUB!!!

Blogsite Goes International!

How cool is this? A Boat For My Potplants is about to go Global with followers from across the pond in the USA. I don't think my boat would actually make it across such a large pond, but metaphorically it's just a short haul away.

My terrific friends whom I have known for many years, Jackie and Larry, are to become bloggees of this very site. Jackie asked if I will be growing Pot on deck? Of course not was my answer. But on reflection what a brilliant idea that would be.

So now we have several uses for the Boat For My Potplants; Herbs and Spices, Bed and Breakfast, Wonderful Wadio Wivenhoe, and Illegal Drugs.

A Very Important Meeting that is due to take place shortly, might open the (flood)gates for the mooring that I am seeking. By this time tomorrow I could well have a mooring tenancy along the quayside. Watch this space.