At Last!

Paul rang me on the phone. 'Whatever happens, we're going out on that boat today'. And who was I to argue?
At last the weather conditions were perfect.
At last the tide was high enough for long enough.
At last I had some confidence.

And sure enough, with Mike's help and guidance, off we went.

We picked Paul up from the jetty.
Jane came along too.
The motor purred like a kitten.
And I was like a kid at Christmas.

At last, after all this time and so many aborted attempts, my Boat For My Potplants finally became a boat on the river. At last.

All Ready But Nowhere To Go

It's not easy being on a tidal river - having to wait for the high water at a time when we could all be present - and with the ghastly weather of late, this was the umpteenth aborted attempt at actually going out on the river.

Mike - who I'm confident knows a thing or two about ropes, hooks, cleats and knots - gave me a first-class lesson in how to get untied. Paul followed his instructions to a tee. Jane tended the geraniums, and I said how windy it was and that I don't think we should go out in it.

I was overruled and so we got ourselves prepared. We sat in the cabin and waited for the tide to come in. And we waited some more. I was poised to lower the shiny new motor into the water and start her up with the key that was all ready to be turned.

The water level rose. The boat began to float. How exciting, I thought. But then the tide went out as quickly as it had come in, and we were left on the mud again with nowhere to go.

There was much talk of neaps and springs, and how we should have been better off next week when the spring tide was due. So we called it a day and agreed to try again next Thursday.

At least Jane managed to get the geraniums dead-headed.

Frustrating Wind

I'm cursing the wind in more ways than one this week. Firstly, I was struck down on Tuesday by a bit of the old food poisoning from one of those dodgy all-day-breakfasts in a tin. I know I should have had muesli, but quite frankly who wants to eat chopped up cardboard when there's sausages and beans beckoning for your stomach-space? By Thursday evening I was more gusty inside than the force ten blowing outside.

And I'd asked able-seaman Martyn (pictured left) to help with my inaugeral trip on board the Boat For My Potplants on the Friday, which I'd been so looking forward to with equal degrees of fear and excitement.

'I'm not coming out on that boat if it's got those stupid potplants on it', he had forewarned me. I hoped he was only joking. He must have been as he even arranged to bring his Royal Navy-serving son along for the ride - so I really was going to be in good hands, and I was praying my wind would have let up by then.

Fortunately it had - but unfortunately the north-easterly wind blowing around the boat's mooring grew stronger than ever - and we had to abandon our plans, drink Guinness and discuss geraniums instead.

Planning My First Trip

Back from holiday and the Boat For My Potplants is calling me to take it out. They say the thing in front of what you really want in life is fear, and I guess this adage applies in my case.

I am fearful of doing something I've never done before - taking out my boat with its new motor onto the River Colne - but I really want to do it. To all you experienced boating people out there it might come as second nature - but to me it's all new and scary.

I'm only planning on going out of the mooring and then up-river for about a quarter of a mile, then back past the mooring to the barrier and back again to its mooring outside the Rose And Crown, where (if successfully completed) I may even treat myself to a celebratory shandy.

My pal (and able seaman) Martyn has agreed to accompany me and to give me some tips, which I welcome.

And that's given me an idea - I should acknowledge some of the key characters from Wivenhoe Quay. Why not call it Quay Characters? A sort of play on words, n'est ce pas?

Let's start off with my chum and nautical neighbour John, who just adores my plants and must surely be ever so slightly envious that he doesn't have any flowers adorning his magnificent vessel. 

John - you only have to ask, and my pansies are your pansies.

And Now On To The Radio

I've missed Wivenhoe, and I've missed my Boat For My Potplants. I'm back from my hols, rejuvinated and ready to begin three tasks;

One for the past - to research and discover the true history of my 23ft former Norfolk-Broads ex-hire river cruiser. Who owned it? Where was it based? Who were its clients?

One for the present - to learn how to sail, er, motor her up and down the River Colne. Will I avoid crashing into other boats? I jolly well hope so.

And one for the future - to create The World's Smallest Pirate Radio Station (WSPRS-FM). Regular readers of this blog will know all about my ever-so-slightly barmy idea. How will I 'broadcast' top tunes from the boat, using an iPod? Will anyone be bothered to listen?

My revisiting of the LRV15 lightship in Harwich yesterday awakened my inspiration. Last time I was on board, I was Barnacle Bill on the Mark Wesley show. What a day that was. This time I was a guest at the fantastic wedding reception of our Wivenhoe friends Trish and Geoff. And what a day THAT was! I walked around the ship, in awe. This is the real boat that rocked, with all that history, from all those years ago.

Don't ask me how I'm going to do it. I don't know yet. But that's not important. What IS important is to offer sincere congratulations to the new Mr and Mrs Lee for a tip-top, 100% brilliant, hurdy-gurdy day.

Captain Slow

Just a few days ago, we brought the boat home to its mooring in Wivenhoe.

I'm still tingling from the realisation that I have a boat that can go places now, and I'm happy that I've had many friends asking 'when are we going out on The Boat For Your Potplants', but unfortunately I haven't had the time or the tide to do anything out on the ocean, er, river, waves yet.

But when I do get to venture out, I will be Captain Slow and Captain Sensible all rolled in to one happy Captain.

And What A Cool Day It Was, Dude

I don't think things could have gone any better. With military precision in the timing, The Boat For My Potplants was launched.

Martin, my brother-in-law, and his two boys Jack and George came with us. I marvelled at Jack's dreadlocks, and wished I had hair like that - or indeed any hair would do.

He looked like The Dude, and I felt like The Coolest Dude, as we powered our way up past Alresford Creek and through the Wivenhoe barrier and on to our final destination of our mooring outside The Rose And Crown. At precisely the right moment the sun shone, the wind calmed, the tide ebbed, and in we came.

Cool!

Today's The Day

Well - I can't put it off any longer. The motor has been fitted and it's ready to go. My brother-in-law Martin (top chap) is coming over this morning to join me. The tractor at Brightlingsea is poised to push the Boat For My Potplants into the water ready for it's first voyage under its own steam for many many years - certainly since I've been its proud owner.

The weather was looking a bit iffy, which would have been good, because very few people would have been sitting outside the Rose And Crown at lunchtime, watching me make a complete hash of things. This is my very first time driving a boat, and, if truth be told, am a little nervous about coming in to its mooring at high-tide. Well, quite a lot, actually.

It now looks like the weather will be okay. Drat. I'm considering removing the plants to help make me look less conspicuous, and hope no one notices me.

Yes, We Have A Motor!

I went to Tenerife and experienced what I thought was the ultimate thrill - a downhill off-road freewheel mountain-bike ride from the top of Spain's highest peak. Two thousand three hundred metres high up at the start, sixty-five kms at speeds of up to 40mph, with a few hair-pin bends thrown in for good measure, and sea level at the end.

I returned home last night, tired and exhausted, but couldn't wait to check my emails - just in case there was some news that I'd been anxiously awaiting.

And there it was. From Brightlingsea Boat Park And Ride, the Suzuki dealer, saying 'Engine is fitted'.

I dashed down to see my Boat For My Potplants this morning and within a second forgot about the bike ride. I just topped the ultimate thrill as I stood and gazed at my new motor.

Mental note to self: Say Big Thanks to Tracy at BBP&R, Gareth at Suzuki GB Marine, and of course my secret Blog-Reader whose generosity made it all happen.

BIG THANKS

A Boat For My Potplants In Numbers

Whilst waiting (in)patiently for my my motor to arrive from the good people of Suzuki, and whilst the Boat For My Potplants is away from its mooring, I have little to do except reflect on some of the numbers relating to its recent history.

I can't wait for its return so that some serious sailing - and of course some not-so-serious games of golf - can be undertaken.

Amount my boat cost to buy - Nil

Number of days spent working on it - probably about 100

Number of parties on board - 4 or 5

Amount of paint, woodstain and varnish used - 20 litres

Number of watts from the old Grundig amplifier - 120

Number of times slept on board overnight - 3

Number of dogs carried aboard - 3

Number of plastic flowers adorning the interior - 25

Number of bottles of wine consumed on board - lost count

Number of weeks spent waiting for motor to arrive - only 2, though feels like more, but nothing in the big scheme of things

Amount raised from blog ads for donation to Royal British Legion building fund - £51.27

Number of times golf played on top of deck - 2

Playing The Waiting Game

Fortunately I usually have patience. I certainly need it now as I walk past the Rose And Crown and look at the space where my Boat For My Potplants should be. There is a void. Something is missing.

The boat is waiting for its new motor that is supposed to be coming from Suzuki - but it hasn't yet arrived. I'm crossing my fingers that it will come on the dealer's next delivery - next Tuesday.

I can't wait to get the boat back where it belongs so I can welcome my friends and family once again                                           
Bienvenue Abord INDEED!

Two Clouds That Have Silver Linings

I was beginning to get a bit stressed, what with the moving of my Boat For My Potplants to Brightlingsea on Monday, and all the arrangements that that entailed.

On Tuesday morning I got up to write my latest blog, only to find that it had all been changed - and not only that - all the pictures had gone! My stress level rose some more. I had to leave things for later investigation and go off to work.

And then later that day I got the phone call from the Suzuki dealer that I was hoping not to get, telling me that Suzuki haven't got me the motor after all. My stress level hit the ceiling of the hallway that I had been painting.

However, I heard an inner voice telling myself to 'Calm down dear - it's only a blinking boat - with daffodils on top'.

And with that, the first of two silver linings appeared; instead of a used ex-demo 15hp motor, Suzuki are supplying a brand spanking new 9.9hp. 'As long as it gets me over to The Albion pub in Rowhedge, I don't mind', I said. 'Where's the Albion?', asked Tracy from the Suzuki dealer. 'About 500 yards away, on the other side of the river', I explained. 'That'll do nicely, then', I was assured.

Later that evening I investigated my blog and concluded that I'd have to change the format and re-load all the pictures, one by one.

So as I began looking through all the photos since this boating adventure began I saw the second silver lining - a realisation of just how lucky I am to be doing this.

My Blog Has Been Changed

Thanks to Google, my whole BLOG has changed without my permission and ALL the pictures have disappeared!!!

Sorry to all my blog readers - just at a time when things are hotting up with my new motor.

I hope to find a way to restore things as soon as I can.

Of course there's always the possibility that it was down to user-error. I'll keep taking the pills.

THE DAY OF MOVING HAS COME

An important (for me, that is) date in my calendar arrived yesterday, and so did my brother-in-law Martin with his trailer, which we duly drove over to Brightlingsea and left in the boat yard belonging to Boat Park And Ride, ready to recover my boat.By the time we arrived at Wivenhoe on Tracy's boat on the incoming tide the weather wasn't being particularly kind to us, but undeterred we tied up for the tow and began our slow return journey back to Brightlingsea.It was choppy. It was cold, and it was windy - but I didn't mind.I recognised that this was a historic moment in the life of The Boat For My Potplants - as it inched its way towards its outboard motor fitment that would be taking place later this week.

Calming The Mind

It's been a nerve-racking time recently.

Sorry dear blog-readers for my absense of late, and now today I have to return to France for a further two weeks. All in the name of work, you understand - NOT HOLIDAY, as I keep having to explain to everyone I meet.

However, during my captured time here I have been busy trying to plan for The Boat For My Potplant's inaugural voyage.

Yes indeed. The wonderful Tracy at Brightlingsea Boat Park And Ride will be coming up the river on Monday 23rd April to attach and tow back my boat to their yard, in order to fit the new motor that's being sent by those nice people at Suzuki.

But Tracy doesn't have a spare trailer, so my helpful brother-in-law Martin will be taking his speed boat and trailer to their place, leave the trailer and then come up river alongside them on his speedboat, which he'll leave in my boat's mooring. A little complicated, I know - but complicated is what I do best, according to my darling 'Erindoors.

Then, a few days later - hopefully Thursday 26th April, which is also my birthday, we'll be bringing my boat triumphantly back to Wivenhoe, under it's own steam for the first time. At last I'll finally be going somewhere in it.

What a great birthday treat. I wonder what sound the motor will make.

In the meantime, I've been putting the final coat of varnish on the woodwork, and of course tending the daffodils, which have been coming up nicely I'm pleased to say.

There's nothing like a few daffs to help calm the mind.

Ten Easy And One Difficult Stages To Fitting A New Motor

1. Get motor back from somewhere in deepest Devon to top-chap Gareth at Suzuki HQ and get it checked over

2. Send motor to top-chap Tracy at Suzuki dealer in Essex - Brightlingsea Boat Park And Ride Ltd, a few miles down river from Wivenhoe

3. Get top-chap and brother-in-law Martin to lend me his trailer for a week because all the ones at Brightlingsea are in use

4. Ask Martin to drive 40 miles from his establishment - Eastern Garage in Finchingfield - towing his trailer (but his speedboat is on it)

5. Put Martin's speedboat in the water when the tide's coming in at Brightlingsea and leave trailer at Tracy's yard

6. Bring Tracy up-river to Wivenhoe with his boat, following Martin on his speed-boat.

7. Leave Martin’s boat in my mooring outside The Rose And Crown (perhaps dashing in for a swift half), and tow my boat back by Tracy’s to Brightlingsea with the outgoing tide

8. Let Tracy use his tractor and Martin’s trailer to pull my boat into Tracy’s yard

9. Leave Tracy to fit my shiny new motor over the following few days

10. Take The Boat For My Potplants back to Wivenhoe – this time under its own power, and let out a dignified “YIPPEE”

Ten easy-peasy, lemon-squeezy stages to fitting a new motor

All I have to do is to arrange a date

a) When it’s convenient with all the top-chaps involved
b) When it can’t be at a weekend
c) When the times of the high-tides have to be right

That's the difficult stage

Fitting Vents Or Going Shopping?

I've been waiting anxiously for news about the outboard motor that's coming from Suzuki.

Not wanting to upset any applecarts with the company's marketing manager, a few days ago I gingerly wrote a nice email to him enquiring about the motor's progress - afraid that I may discover that he's changed his mind, or left the company, or something terrible like that.

In the meantime, for months now I've been looking for window vents to replace the broken ones on the boat. After much research I discovered that they are called Vent-a-Matics, and armed with that knowledge I had eagerly ordered two from Amazon.

I came home from work last night and immediately went to the computer to check my emails. There was one that leapt out at me. It was from Suzuki, saying that the motor will be dispached next week. Brimming with excitement, I was then informed by my wife that there was a parcel for me. Could this be my Vent-a-Matics?

Yes, it most certainly was. I excitedly opened the package and marvelled at the shiny things inside.

I reflected that it's not only the big things (like 15hp motors), or even the little things (like Vent-a-Matics) that make my world in boats so good.

It is in fact having a very understanding wife, who doesn't mind when I inform her that I have 'lot's to do on the boat this weekend' and politely decline her kind invitation to go shopping.

How Much Is It Worth?

I recently was asked to work on someone's boat as a paid job. It got me thinking that it's not making much economical sense based on the value of the boat.

Then my thoughts turned to my own Boat For My Potplants.

What is it worth? What does "worth' mean? Most people's assumption of the meaning of "worth" is its monetry value - the amount of money the craft can be sold at any particular time. Other factors come in to play - how much did it cost in the first place. How old is it? Does it have a trailer? Where is it moored? What condition is it in? Was it previously owned by John Lennon?

Based on these factors, my boat's probably worth diddely squat. But I don't care.

The bottom line is that it's only worth what someone is prepared to pay for it, if we're purely talking about £££, /-/-/-, and ddd's, and that figure also goes up and down with the tide, according to the country's economic conditions as a whole.

But if we're talking about what it's "worth" based on the number of hours worked on it, then I am a boat-millionaire, especially after 'Erindoors kindly let me use the kitchen table to sand and Brasso the old steering wheel whilst having breakfast this morning.

Ker-ching! I've just added another grand to its value - to me, that is. But on the open market it's still around the zero mark.

I raise my cuppa to all the other millionaires amongst us, who spend as much time as they can afford, doing little bit here and a little bit there, increasing their boat's "worth".

At Last - Some Progress

Finally, after waiting ages for some clear days away from decorating work and other commitment, I'm finally able to get a couple of 'boat-days'.

So today I can move on a little.

Firstly though, I must confront my demons. I'm coming to the engineering and mechanical bit where the steering wheel and other controls are. There are wires all over the shop, some of which I can see don't connect to anything. Where should they be going? This is territory outside of my comfort-zone.

Basically, I haven't a clue. And I have to sort this lot out before getting the motor.

I'll be going to introduce myself to the Suzuki dealer this morning, with whom the Suzuki management has arranged to 'deal with this boat with the potplants'. I sure hope I can get on the right side of him and that he'll agree to help me figure out what goes where. My fingers are firmly crossed.

And then there will be the little problem of how to get my boat a few miles down-river without a motor and without a trailer.

'One thing at a time, Neil', I say to myself. 'Steady at the helm'.

W.O.R.C. Helps To Swing The Deal With Suzuki

Thanks to the kindness of a local blog-reader, I was flush with funds for an outboard motor. But I had soon discovered that it would only be enough for a secondhand one from Ebay, if that.

So a wrote a nice letter to Suzuki, explaining my debacle.

On Friday the day finally came for my meeting with Suzuki's Sales and Marketing Manager, Gareth Lumsdaine, and I set off at 5.30am for the hundred mile journey to Milton Keynes. This was one meeting I didn't want to be late for, and I arrived an hour early. As a sat in my van waiting for the allotted time, I made a mental note of my objectives:

a) To get a motor. Ideally a 15hp 4-stroke long-shaft outboard, with electric start and remote steering. And a warranty would be nice too.
b) To get assistance from a local dealer
c) To get a photo for my blog

We discussed transoms and propeller sizes, motors and boats, and how I might be able to try out different sizes of props and give my feedback. I would be pleased and honoured to assist. We also discussed W.O.R.C. (Wivenhoe Ocean Racing Club), of whom I am a proud member. Luckily I'd brought along a spare lapel badge with which to hopefully swing a positive outcome to the meeting.

An hour later I left in a bit of a daze.

I made a mental tick against a), b) and c), and thanked my stars that I'd remembered to bring that lapel badge. I metaphorically punched the air, the way footballers do after scoring a goal.

My First Blog - This Is What It's All About...

Sunday, 4 October 2009
This is my Tale Of A Boat For My Potplants. It is a new adventure for me - blogging and boating coming together for the first time.

I have moved to a new flat, which doesn't have a garden, but it is by a river. Wouldn't it be great to have a boat that I can sit on surrounded by my potplants?

Well, I visualised it happening, and I'm now on the first step of the rope ladder, now that I have been given a boat by a good friend.

The boat is a hundred miles away.

I know absolutely nothing about boats - a minor problem, indeed.
I don't have a trailer.
I don't have a car with a tow-bar.
I don't have a mooring.
The boat doesn't have a working motor.

But I do have some potplants, so all will be okay.

You are welcome to read my blog to see what happens.

Deja Vu All Over Again

My lovely old Grandad used to tell me when I was nee high that a journey of a thousand miles begins with the first step. As it was when I began my love affair with The Boat For My Potplants. And I do still have many miles to go - not least getting a motor - and I'm crossing my fingers that next Friday's meeting with Suzuki will present a positive outcome.

But while all this is going on, somebody told somebody that I'm a painter and decorator and that I've been working on "that boat by the pub with the potplants on it". Back in the balmy autumn I was asked to visit a lovely old wooden sailing vessel that's kept in a farm-shed awaiting renovation and painting, and its owner and I fixed a date for me to begin my first 'professional' boat job, and that date has now come up.

I arrived on Monday morning at 9am. By 10am I was frozen to the bone. Why I had to pick the coldest week of the year is anybody's business - but I'd agreed to do it, so I'd better just get on with it. Cold it may be, but what a privilege it is to be entrusted to work on someone else's pride and joy. And to be paid for it!

I looked at the extensive task ahead and had that deju-vu feeling all over again. The same one that I got when I first began working on my own boat. Just where to start? I had to reach deep inside my mind and pull out a gallon of positive energy to pick up a scraper, and start at the very beginning. It is, after all, a very good place to start.

It's funny how things work out. I would never have been given this job if it hadn't been for the Boat For My Potplants. I could instead have been decorating Mrs Smith's living room this week. Nice and warm. Cups of tea brought to me. 'One sugar today, Neil?' 'Yes please, Mrs Smith'. Nice.

Nah. Boats is more fun. More of a challenge. More rewarding. Give me that deja vu feeling any time.

Breaking News...Suzuki Outboard Sensation

On Tuesday evening I'll be going along to see the wonderful group of people that is the Alresford Creek Boat Owners' Association. Nobody there cares two hoots that I don't have a 'real, proper, sailing boat', and that instead I have a floating garden and shed that doesn't actually go anywhere, except vertically with the tide.

That's why I like going there, on the first Tuesday of every month. There are no airs and graces. No one looking down their noses at me.

Of course, I admit my Boat For My Potplants has indeed been lacking in the motor department ever since I became its proud owner.

But all that is soon about to change, cross fingers, with the help of those very nice people at Suzuki.

Incredibly, I have been offered one of their finest outboards, no other than a 15hp little beauty, all shiny and black, with long shaft and electric start.

I can't wait to tell my friends on Tuesday evening that it will only be a matter of time till I'll be joining them on the river, thanks to the powers-that-be at Suzuki GB. I may even take along a bottle of Carver to celebrate with them.

To discuss things in finer detail, I've been invited by Marketing Manager and top-bloke Gareth, to visit their offices in Milton Keynes. I'm counting down the days until that all-important meeting.

In the meantime, the recent heavy snow has prevented me from doing the planned varnishing of the rear deck today. So I thought I'd go along and just gaze adoringly at the Suzuki catalogue and dream of being out on the river this summer.

A Bit Of A Disappointment

I apologise to all my green-fingered friends out there in the boating world. I assume there are many. Or at least several. Perhaps a few. Or is it only me?

Since receiving a thousand pounds from a reader of this blog, with which to purchase an outboard motor, I've been somewhat neglectful of another very important aspect relating to my Boat For My Potplants - the potplants themselves.

This year they are indeed a sorry state of affairs. I did have my doubts when I saw them for sale outside a house in the High Street, with a sign "Winter Pansies For Sale - TEN for a fiver". So I suppose I only have myself to blame.

I mistakenly thought that my high-class horticulture would look after itself whilst I was busy holding top-level talks with motor manufacturers at The London Boat Show.

Without the potplants, there would be no boat. So although I may be ecstatic about A VERY EXCITING DEVELOPMENT with a certain company beginning with 'S' and ending in 'I' (more details next blog), I must remind myself that even winter pansies need the care and attention that they deserve.

Thanks Yamaha

So I strided (or is it strode?) in to the Excel in London for my first ever boat show, and made a beeline for the Yamaha stand. 'Good morning, Sir. Can I help you?', said the executive.

'Yes', I said, and proceeded to explain about The Boat For My Potplants, emphasising my collaborations with blue-chip companies who have been flocking to participate in this unfolding story.

'Of course, Sir. We would be honoured to donate our latest 15hp model with electric start, all in the name of good-will to you and your fantastic blog. All we want you to do is mention our name - Yamaha.'

Yamahayamahayamahayamahaaaaayyyyaaaaaaammmmmmmaaaaha.

And then I woke up and quickly got dressed and went round to my mate Simon, who had agreed to drive us down to the venue.

I was armed with my shopping list, comprising toilet light and outboard motor.

I didn't manage to get any of those, but I did end up buying an excellent cooking knife from a very nice man who gave me a special-offer free sharpener.

It's Showtime - Part One

For the first time I'm going to the London Boat Show. Before I had a Boat For My Potplants it never occurred to me that one day I'd become even remotely interested, let alone very excited, about spending a day looking at boats and boat-related products.

I'd better write out my shopping list tonight and leave it out on the hall table ready for the morning.

Here's what my list will include...

A light for the toilet
A new plant pot for the winter pansies
A 15hp Honda Four-Stroke Electric Start Long Shaft Slow Revving Outboard Motor

I'll wager that I'll only be lucky with the toilet-light, but you never know.

See how I get on, in Part Two - coming soon to a computer near you!

Now That The Turkey Has All Gone...

The Christmas turkey has all gone, and now I'd like to wish my blog-followers a Happy New Year with the latest Virtual Tour movie of The Boat For My Potplants.

'Come on Oliver', I said to my computer-whiz-kid son. 'Let's nip down to the boat and make a quick film before you have to go back to London.'

DreamWorks we are most certainly not, and we won't be winning any BAFTAs - but I think the boat's spirit has been captured - and it's kind of fun (for me, at least) to compare it to the first instalment that we made back in March 2010.

(Just click on either of the pics to start the virtual tours on YouTube, at the top of the blog)

The Search Is On For A Motor!

Thanks to the kindness and generosity of The Boat For My Potplant's secret admirer, I am now able to look for something to fix to the flat bit at the back, and my budget is a cool grand. Although this represents a small fortune to humble old me, I know that this won't get me a brand new motor - so RELIABILITY is a key factor in my choice for a second-hand machine.

Just like the world of boats was an alien planet to me a couple of years ago when I was given the old Norman, ...er, Callumcraft, ...er, Teal, I am now in a similar position when it comes to outboard motors.

And at the moment I don't know one end of an outboard from t'other, so I welcome all the help and advice I can get.

I do understand that LENGTH OF SHAFT and POWER REQUIREMENT are crucial in the choice. And it needs to have a REVERSE GEAR, and I've been told that 4-STROKE is better than two.

Well, I've measured from the top of the back bit (TRANSOM, I believe) to the bottom of the bottom bit (HULL), and it's around 50cms. And as the Colne is a tidal river and quite choppy at times, I think I need something between 10hp and 20hp.

So the search is on! And ideally I'd like the supplier to assist with fitting and connecting it all up.

This is turning out to be more exciting than opening my first Scalextric box at the age of four, and to add to the thrill, I am - for the first time ever - going to the Boat Show in January.

I can't wait.

In the meantime I think I'll make myself a nice cup of tea.

Putting The Right Foot Forward

I'm now back in the real world again after a surreal couple of weeks in the south of France. It's back to starting the van, getting the brushes out, paying the bills, climbing the ladders. How wonderful it would be if I could spend all my time on the boat. There's still such a lot to do...

...and so little time...

...but when I look back at how far things have come since I first climbed aboard the old wreck on that winter's day in St Neots, I don't feel too bad (see the pic on www.aboatformypotplants.blogspot.com).

And now I can probably count the number of things still to be done on one hand. Or maybe two. And perhaps on my left foot. And my right.

I still have to...
ONE HAND
Varnish the rear deck
Repair the rubbing strake
Attach a bilge pump
Fix the rear rail
Get a motor
OTHER HAND
Get it working
Go on picnics on the river
Set up the record deck
Set up the iPod
Get The World's Smallest Pirate Radio Station up and running
LEFT FOOT
Have some fun
RIGHT FOOT
Have some more fun on board The Boat For My Potplants

Backed Into a Corner

We recently had some great weather and I dashed down to the Boat For My Potplants with great eagerness to get the deck painted while I had a small window of opportunity. I only had a couple of hours available, as I had arranged to go in my van to do a job on the other side of town in the afternoon.

So, without hesitation, on the boat I went, took off my jacket, and got cracking with the paint brush. Luckily, I must have been a contortionist in a previous life, as I had to hold on to dear life as I bent over double to do the side decks - but hey-ho, it was a beautiful day, and I threw caution to the wind.

Around lunchtime, the usual throng of drinkers amalgamated outside The Rose And Crown.

Oblivious to their gaze. I continued doing a sterling job, working my way to the pointy bit at the front, then clambering over on to the planks on the quayside to finish off the bow.

Very pleased with myself, I stood up, gained my balance, and walked off the planks back to the van.

Great, I thought, a good job well done, and still on time to get to my next 'proper, paid' job.

I went to start the van engine. But where's the key?

I retraced my steps in my mind, recalling how I'd left the key in my jacket pocket, the jacket being inside the boat that I'd just painted the deck of.

Please tell me that I'm not the only person who's ever backed themselves in to a corner?

(apologies to regular readers of the blog - I will be away now till 4th December. Backed myself in to another corner by agreeing to paint the hall of www.lepetitchateauexperience.com . It's a tough job, and somebody's got to do it, so I thought it may as well be me)

Warm Cockles

Knock me down with a feather.

This is a true story that will warm the cockles of even the coldest

heart…

Regular readers will know that so far the boat has only travelled vertically with the tide, due to a distinct lack of a motor.

Thanks to the provision of paint from Dulux and power tools from B&Q, and with the recently refurbished toilet and the reinstated kitchen (complete with running water), the boat's renovation is rapidly approaching its final nautical mile towards completion.

But there's one BIG thing missing - an outboard motor.

Unfortunately I had come to a conclusion - I couldn't afford one. River voyages and picnics aboard would sadly have to remain distant mirages beyond the horizon.

That was until last week, when a local blog-reader who had been following the unfolding story came round to visit.

What occurred next was something that only happens in dreams.

This very kind person gave me an envelope.

I opened it, and inside there was a card with the words '…this is for you to get a motor with, so that next summer we can go for some picnics on the river'.

And out fell a substantial cheque for The Boat For My Potplants!

Two Lessons Learned

When I began renovating the Boat For My Potplants, I didn't have a clue as to what pipe or hose was supposed to go where.

Anything and everything to do with plumbing is my weakest spot. and it simply leaves me cold. So I did what any normal person would do – I left it alone.

What I really wanted was for my friend Mark to just fix the whole damn thing for me.

‘Mark. I can't do plumbing. And I'll reward you handsomely', I pleaded, thinking of the decorating job I’d just been paid for.

'Sorry Neil - I'm too busy. And besides, it will help you to help yourself'.

That became LESSON ONE - help myself.

So on a blustery and dark mid-week evening, I dragged a long hose along the quay to the boat's filler cap and proceeded to half-fill the water tank.

I tried the foot-pump. Nothing happened. Not even a trickle.

After calling Mark yet again, I realised I was on my own.

‘You will have to take it all apart’, he advised, emphasising the 'you'. The prospect of ME doing THAT filled me with horror.

So, yesterday I told Jane I may be gone a while, and set off to the boat with a heavy heart. I ended up with a multitude of nuts, bolts, washers, rings, springs and bits of plastic all over the cabin table, with still more parts having fallen on the floor. I just stared blankly.

I needed to take a break and wandered across to Pete The Roof's boat down river, and told him of my problem. 'Now what you should have done was to make a drawing as you took the pump apart'. That was to be my LESSON NUMBER TWO. Er, thanks, Pete, I'll remember that.

I returned, trying to keep inwardly calm, and made a cup of tea. To my utmost astonishment, after cleaning up the washers, adding a little lubrication here and there and scratching my head some more, I somehow managed to put things back together.

I reconnected everything and pumped the pump. Like a miracle, water came out the tap, into the sink, down the plug-hole, and out into the river.

It might not sound like a big deal to anyone else, but for me it was a Major Achievement.

And now I can do the washing-up on the boat, so in celebration today I'm off to Tesco's. Never before have I been so excited by the prospect of purchasing a dish-cloth and tea-towel.

The Boat That Rocked

As parties go, that was a pretty good one. And the picture tells the story.

On Saturday evening we took our positions on board The Boat For My Potplants. I have never seen so many people on the quay. It was heaving. The queue to get to the Rose And Crown bar snaked for twenty or thirty people outside the door and along the road. Papa's, the fish-and-chippy around the corner, was doing a roaring trade. Music was blaring out from somewhere high up. The evening air was clear and mild. In fact the atmosphere couldn't have been more perfect.

The countdown began, and on the crowd's shout of "ONE" the first burst of rockets and bangers were sent skyward from the control point on the other side of the river.

From our rear deck position we had the most excellent viewing platform, and company to match.

After the firework finale, our solar energy system and old Grundig amp did us proud as we pumped up the volume, ensuring that the party went on into the night.

And more importantly, we had a stream of our guests coming on board to join in the fun on board the The Boat For My Party.

It's That Time Of The Year Again

It's coming up to that time of year again when we have Fireworks On The Quay, organised by those grand people of W.O.R.C - the Wivenhoe Ocean Racing Club. Apart from the fact that there's no ocean, and no racing, it is a true description of a club in Wivenhoe.

W.O.R.C. raises much-needed funds for the upkeep of the Royal British Legion building, situated on the quay, near the Boat For My Potplants, and they do this by offering a spectacular firework display - set off on the opposite side of the river. Buckets are provided for spectators to donate whatever they can afford.

Those standing on the quay get a great view.

Those sitting on the rear deck of the Boat For My Potplants get a truly breathtaking, first-class, super-duper, incredible view.

And this year, like last year, our guests of honour will be Neil Rowland with his wife Angela. Neil is the chap who persuaded his elderly father to give me the boat in its derelict state.

So it's all his fault, and I thank him enormously.

Just Like The Man From del Monte

Just like The Man From Del Monte, who say 'YES' (sorry, younger readers - you won't have a clue what the heck I'm talking about) - the man from B&Q - he say 'YES', too.

After presenting my case as to why it would be a jolly good idea for the diy giant to give me something for The Boat For My Potplants, I returned to the store to meet Duty Manager Derek King (with my fingers tightly crossed behind my back) to see if he was positively receptive to my request.

Because those very nice people at Dulux have jumped on board by giving me paint, woodstain and varnish, and including the story of the boat's progress on their corporate website (see http://www.tradexpress.co.uk/ask_the_expert/my_life_in_paint/neil_watson.jsp), I was sure that it was only a matter of time before B&Q came along for the boat-ride as well.

And sure enough, they did. I walked out the store clutching my bright and shiny new DeWalt power tools. Big Thanks to you, B&Q, and especially Mr King.

So now, I only need an outboard motor from the likes of Yamaha, Honda or Volvo, and then The Boat For My Potplants will be well sorted.

But in the meantime, the summer geraniums need replacing with the winter pansies. Like I said last time, there’s ALWAYS something to be done.

There's Always Something To Do

When is this Boat For My Potplants project ever going to end? There's always something that needs doing. No sooner do I finish the interior, my attention falls to the rear deck, which could do with a rub down and a new coat of varnish.

And then there is the painting of the top deck and repairing of the windscreen and the houdini hatch. But hang on a minute - I've already done that once. How can it possibly need doing again?

I suppose the winter snow and ice, the howling winds along the salt-water estuary, and the baking summer sunshine take their toll.

But instead of me getting on with it, a recent passer-by caught me red-handed taking a break (well deserved, I might tell you), catching the last of the summer wine.

There's always something to do. I hope that's the way it will always be.

Lower The Floor - Wiggle Your Toes

This Boat For My Potplants mullarkey shouldn't be all about me me me. I want to be able to put something back into the boating community...a tried and tested way to fellow owners of Norman Boats and Callumcrafts (of which I believe mine is one) to enable them to lower the floor in order to increase headroom.

For me me me it has been a resounding success, and with my 5 foot eight and a half inches frame (I'm very proud of the half inch), I can stand up properly inside the cabin - useful for making tea in the galley, or perhaps being a dj on The World's Smallest Pirate Radio Station (one day, one day).

For anyone remotely interested, here are the instructions...

1) Measure between the the bits that go down between the ribs of the bilge, width and length.
2) Go down to B&Q and buy some thick ply - get them to cut each section to size to save time later.
3) Place each 'tile' in situ so that you can cut them again precisely to allow for any lumps and bumps.
4) Paint the bilge to make it look clean and nice, and then paint the 'tiles' to make them nice and clean.
5) Place the 'tiles' in the bilge, and then cover over with shag-pile rugs.

6) Walk up and down the length of the cabin in bare feet whilst holding glass of wine, and standing     upright without tilting head (unless you're taller than 5 feet eight and a half inches),

7) Wiggle your toes in the warmth and comfort of your new floor.

Too Tired For Triple Word-Score

Last Friday night didn't go according to plan, due to the exceptionally high tide leaving the Boat For My Potplants on such a skew angle that it would have been impossible to spend a few minutes aboard, let alone sleep.

But never mind. After adjusting the ropes here and there, we were finally able to spend a whole night on board on Sunday night instead.

But I didn't manage to get the cook pot and stove out.

And we didn't open the Scrabble from it's wrapper.

Instead we got fish and chips from Papa's Chippy,  and of course a bottle of wine.

And because we were so exhausted from that afternoon's events of hanging on for dear life on the back of a giant inflatable banana off the coast of Brightlingsea, and having to be rescued because the engine conked out (another story), we were so completely exhausted that we were both sound asleep by nine o'clock.

So even though a learned Scrabble scholar had given me a pre-game tip of the high-scoring nautical word of "MIZZENMASTS" (on a Triple Word-Score that would have earned me 99 points - thanks to Deano), I was sadly not able to use it.

Oh well. What was it that John Lennon said? Life is what happens when you're busy making plans.

A Big Decision - Burger or Balti?

It's Thursday night, and tomorrow promises to be another scorcher. I think I've managed to persuade Jane to spend tomorrow evening - and night - on the boat.

What could be better?

There's no good reason for the missus to change her mind - now that there's a rather classy working toilet, even if I say so myself. The lack of facilities was always an objection in the past - but that's not valid anymore, now that we have a bright and shiny 'heads' complete with book-case, loo-roll holder and bi-folding door.

So here's the proposed schedule that I have in mind...

5.00pm    Arrive on board with duvet and overnight bag
5.01pm    Open the cold Pinot Grigio and pour
5.02pm    Open the Kettle crisps and houmous, and tuck in
5.03pm    Turn on the solar power, the hifi and the iPod and relax to some music
6.30pm    Watch the sun go down
6.31pm    Open another bottle?
7.00pm    Think about dinner - this is the tricky part of the evening. A Big Decision has to be made;

Should we order burger and chips from The Rose And Crown like I did earlier in the summer, and have it brought to the boat? Or should I cook a Lamb Balti down in the galley? I heard the recipe on the radio this evening, and I'm tempted to give it a go, using my saucepan and camping stove.

8-ish    Dinner for two        
9-ish    Draw the curtains closed, and then get down to something for the first time on board The Boat For My Potplants...earlier this year we purchased a brand new SCRABBLE - and it's about time we took it out of it's wrapper.

I wonder what the highest scoring nautical word might be.

Naughty Boy, Hector!

'Mark. We're going away on holiday for two weeks and it would be fantastic if you could do a little job for me while I'm away', I said to Mark, just before we were going away on holiday for two weeks.

I followed on...'Now that I've finished the toilet and the kitchen on the boat, is there any chance you could help to fix the water tank and get the pump going so that the sink works properly?'

Mark is one of those brilliant people who can pretty much turn their hand to anything. He's a damned good chap, and is more than capable of carrying out most tasks, so a little bit of boat plumbing would be second nature to him.

I returned after a nice and relaxing break away, and excitedly rushed down to the boat to see the results of the work.

But his little dog, Hector, takes up a lot of Mark's time. So I had been wondering where Mark's priorities might lie - my boat's plumbing, or Hector.

Unfortunately for the Boat For My Potplants, it wasn't the plumbing.

Naughty boy, Hector.

Mum's The Word

My mum wants to come on to The Boat For My Potplants, but she's a bit doddery on her feet these days, especially after a small glass of wine. Or perhaps two.

She's confident about walking the plank, but it's the side-deck that she's more concerned about.

So I have a cunning plan, but I'm not sure whether it's feasible or possible, or if indeed it's ever been done before? Any comments, suggestions or ideas would be gratefully accepted.

The idea is to widen the side decks by screwing down some heavy-duty ply from the bow along to the rear deck, of course making sure that it's all properly sealed. The ply could be shaped and contoured to look okay, but I'm also thinking ahead to when I get a motor. Could the widening of the side-decks adversely affect the handling of the boat when I eventually get it out on to the river?

To support the weight of a person standing on it, I would make some 45 degree supports (like shelf brackets) that are fixed to the underside of the ply, and resting against, but not screwed in to, the sides of the hull.

It's a lot of work, but mum's are worth it, eh?

(I'll be away on hols for the next two weeks, so the next blog will be mid-September, hopefully with answers to the deck-widening debacle)

Anyone For Breakfast?

To celebrate having The Boat For My Potplants included on the website for Dulux's parent company (see http://www.tradexpress.co.uk/ask_the_expert/my_life_in_paint/neil_watson.jsp ), I decided to throw a breakfast party on my Boat For My Potplants this recent Bank Holiday Sunday. After all - corporate sponsorship from Yamaha and B&Q must surely be following Dulux's footsteps, just around the bend.

The guests of honour included my son Oliver and daughter Laura, my nautical neighbour Pete The Roof, and the lovely Neil (he, who got me the boat in the first place) and his even lovelier wife Angela. And of course my great missus Jane.

Neil and I went up to the Co-Op to buy provisions of tea, milk, sugar, butter, bread, - and essentially to bring back the bacon. We all convened on the boat at 10.30 sharp. I removed my new frying pan from it's wrapper and took up my rightful place in the kitchen, er, galley.

Before too long the quietness of the still River Colne was broken by the sizzle of the Danish, and I distributed the butties to all who were eagerly awaiting their sarnies, complete with brown sauce. None of yer mamby-pamby tomato ketchup on this occasion.

Ah, this boating life. I have to say that nothing has ever tasted so good.

Bog Off

Today is an exciting day on board The Boat For My Potplants. I am now starting to work on the bathroom, and in the early hours of this morning I took great delight in removing the old cassette toilet that must have been there for the last five years.

It wasn't a job that I'd been looking forward to, and since becoming proud owner of the boat, the smallest room was being used by me as a dumping ground for all my pieces of wood, tools and other mullarkey.

Gradually the old toilet was becoming covered over, which I didn't mind one iota. Out of sight - out of mind.

Until yesterday, when I began to clear the decks, so to speak.

Off with the old bog and on with the new. But I didn't want to put the patrons of The Rose And Crown off their pints of lager last evening with the sight of me carrying off a full-up tank of five-year-old you-know-what. So I waited until the early hours of this morning, and like a stealth bomber on a secret mission I discreetly removed the offending item, carried it home to empty down our own toilet and then dump it, never to be seen again.

After a quick celebratory cuppa, I'm off now to install the bright and shiny brand new toilet that I happened to find last year on a skip. It was still in its box and there was even a pack of chemicals in its original wrapper.

Sometimes I just can't believe how lucky I am.

Dear B&Q / Dear Yamaha...

Now, where did I put my pen..? I wonder if this might work...

Dear B&Q / Dear Yamaha (delete as appropriate)

You see, it's like this...
I was given an old boat that was falling apart and I've been renovating it. It's parked outside the pub in Wivenhoe and it's quite famous now. It's got a multi-coloured canopy that was made specially by a nice local company. It's had windows put in by another nice local company. It has solar electricity for the onboard Hi-Fi, and it'll eventually become The World's Smallest Pirate Radio Station. Nice.

I write a blog about the boat, see, and it's sometimes included in Essex Life, a jolly nice glossy magazine for this region. And those nice people at Dulux gave me lots of paint, which was very nice of them, particularly as their paint is very nice too and perfect for the boat, and they've asked me to write for their website as well.

By the way, did I mention the boat's got nice potplants on it as well as nice astroturf, and that I call it A Boat For My Potplants?

Sadly I'm now running out of spondoolics but I still need quite a few more materials / an outboard motor to finish the renovation. Some plywood and plumbing items / ten horses would do very nicely.

Dear B&Q / Dear Yamaha, will you help? I really like your products. It would be really nice of you if you said YES.

This Time Next Year...

Jane (aka 'Erindoors) inspects my handiwork and is pleased with the way things are coming on with the new interior. It's the shag-pile carpet that sets it off nicely, and she doesn't even mind my plastic flower arrangement or my hanging hi-fi loudspeakers. What a girl!

But just recently I've hardly had time to catch my breath, let alone continue with any on-board renovation, much to my frustration. To keep the wolves at bay I've been having to actually get my finger out and work for a living. How inconvenient! And to cap it all, on every single weekend we've been busily going hither and thither to weddings, parties, concerts and family affairs.

Every weekend that is, except when the Regatta came to Wivenhoe.

A constant stream of visitors on board, many bottles of wine later and a right party atmosphere made the day one of the best in the history of The Boat For My Potplants. We managed a record ten people all on board at the same time that day, perched on the rear deck observing the proceedings of other boats maneuvering up and down the river.

By this time next year, when it's finally got an outboard motor, and the renovation is complete, the Boat For My Potplants will be joining them. I'll make sure of it.

What A Fiddle

Well, I spent a very peaceful night in the bedroom of The Boat For My Potplants. I woke up to the sound of the seagulls hovering by in the garden outside, and I thought it was time to try out my new stove and gas canister that I bought from Tesco (good value at less than fifteen quid). I played around with it for a few minutes and then it all made sense. I turned it on and hey presto, it ignited. And of course I had to have a tin of Heinz All Day Breakfast.

The old copper kettle that I bought off Mark, from a few boats down river, did me proud, and very soon I was peacefully sitting out in the back dining room, with the canopy rolled up and the morning sun streaming in, eating breakfast for one at the dining table.

I tried to read the paper but I had ants in me pants, and kept looking to see how I could improve the kitchen. An hour later I had my work-bench out on the quay, with tools and plywood set to go, ready to make some shelves to hold the plates and glasses on the wall.

Mike came by and informed me that I wasn't making a shelf, but instead it's called a 'fiddle' - and that it's not for the kitchen, but the 'galley'.

What does he know?

Beer, Wine, or Tea?

I love 'Erindoors - I truly do. But she's only gone and left me on a Saturday night to fend for myself as she goes off gallivanting with her mates. Good luck to her, I say, but who's gonna make my tea, I ask?

There's only one thing for it - a night on the boat. I can order a meal from The Rose And Crown. It's only a few feet away from the deck - and while I'm at it, I may as well have a drink or two to celebrate the fact that The Boat For My potplants is now habitable.

What should it be? I rather fancy a beer to quench my thirst after a hard day's work, but I do prefer the gentle taste of a Rioja - or perhaps a Merlot. Much more posh than a beer, what what?

But as I'm gathering together my survival kit for my first all-night sleepover (I need my pyjamas, slippers and the like), I think that on this occasion I really should put my new camping stove to the test. So now I'm off up to the Co Op for tea bags, milk and a packet of biscuits.

Soon I'll be all set. I've got my radio, my book, the evening sun, and some geraniums.

What could be better?