Floating Boater of Islington ... originally published in Islington Tribune 10thJan. 2020 ... edited slightly ... Search for:-
"My-life-as-a-floating-voter"
Most boaters have it less easy than I in figuring where when & how to park up.
In the Metropolis, their boats need regular watering, muck-shovelling, fuel bunkering and a myriad other things I can do without for weeks. My narrowboat lives "off-grid" and had most of these things sorted out in That Wish List for an ideal constant cruiser as far back as 2010. More to the point That Wish List was adhered to updated and modified constantly during all the years I spent off grid on the cut. Something I learned early on and which had not occurred to my becoming of no fixed abode ... if I need a tailoring alteration or a knees-up I have to find one wherever I happen to be; whereas muggles already know where to get their hem let down or where to let their hair down. Muggles think we nutters just ram our boats into a convivial bankside and head off for a few groceries before Waitrose shuts or Wetherspoons opens.
It is very different in reality. We gotta build a whole "village" around our crash site ...
On canals you make your own luck ... and the more luck you make the more you get ...
I have a water sprite to manage my luck. Each time I depart a location, I leave behind a familiar mapped village centred on the boat. Each time I tie up at a new location, my first priority is to map my new village. Sadbh decides where the centre will be. But it is up to me to establish my village. Find Sadbh on the Homepage
Slipping away from King's Cross at 7am on a recent winter Saturday, I entered Islington tunnel under cover of darkness (as advised by Sadbh). The tunnel light had been set up and tested before slipping; the last place I used it was Bruce Tunnel. What? ... You don't know the Bruce Tunnel? ... Sheesh!... Do you know Islington Tunnel? ... Sheesh! ... you need to get out more ... It's under your feet ...
Arriving at the eastern end, Sadbh had organised a space and I emerged into the dawn-glo tiptoeing in with a ferryglide. My water sprite guided me quietly and unobtrusively into a 37' space at 7.40am without disturbing a single resident, non-resident or even a dozing duck.
Secured and caffeinated, AtoZ was thumbed to ferret out the elements of my latest village and where the nearest bus stop might be. I also needed to locate the "nearest pint of milk" and routes and distances around my new location.
All of this would be by shank's mare. My latest village would assemble piecemeal.
Within days, I would know my way around my new village; learning more each day. And. Just as I have it together, I'll be gone.
My latest location is close to Angel, very close to Angel. An initial recce discovers that within 220yds I have a dry cleaner, a postbox, a grocery which is the"nearest pint of milk" and two cafes.
Extending the radius to 440m, I have bus stops at Angel and a Wetherspoon. I have a branch of my bank and a tube station.
Just outside the 440m circle is a cinema, Chapel Market and three supermarkets. One is a Waitrose. Now for a library
I had NONE of these when I was snowed in at Banbury in 2014 although I did have a 'Spoon. There is a challenge though!
My knees are in their 8th decade. The climb to Duncan Street is over 60ft and to Upper Street another 60. Eight flights of stairs.
Sabdh doesn't do knees. She is a water sprite.
Living here, you know where your next loaf of bread comes from. You have your water supply on tap, and electricity, TV, fridge freezer, all those creature comforts your great-grandma never even dreamed of but without which your life would fall apart. You have wifis, mobiles, laptops, alexas. You know your garden centres, shopping centres, epicentres, double centres. You possibly have your church tagged, your butcher, your baker and for all I know your candlestick maker.
Try Camden Passage for candles, cheese, bread, antics and junque. You know where to buy a stamp. You know shortcuts to the bookies, where to walk the dog or cycle a bike. Everything is familiar and you may even have a car outside the door to save your legs.
Me? I may change location twice in a week or maybe after two or three weeks. Each time my new village needs to be mapped and my Spoons located... I live "Off-Grid" ...
"My-life-as-a-floating-voter"
Most boaters have it less easy than I in figuring where when & how to park up.
In the Metropolis, their boats need regular watering, muck-shovelling, fuel bunkering and a myriad other things I can do without for weeks. My narrowboat lives "off-grid" and had most of these things sorted out in That Wish List for an ideal constant cruiser as far back as 2010. More to the point That Wish List was adhered to updated and modified constantly during all the years I spent off grid on the cut. Something I learned early on and which had not occurred to my becoming of no fixed abode ... if I need a tailoring alteration or a knees-up I have to find one wherever I happen to be; whereas muggles already know where to get their hem let down or where to let their hair down. Muggles think we nutters just ram our boats into a convivial bankside and head off for a few groceries before Waitrose shuts or Wetherspoons opens.
It is very different in reality. We gotta build a whole "village" around our crash site ...
On canals you make your own luck ... and the more luck you make the more you get ...
I have a water sprite to manage my luck. Each time I depart a location, I leave behind a familiar mapped village centred on the boat. Each time I tie up at a new location, my first priority is to map my new village. Sadbh decides where the centre will be. But it is up to me to establish my village. Find Sadbh on the Homepage
Slipping away from King's Cross at 7am on a recent winter Saturday, I entered Islington tunnel under cover of darkness (as advised by Sadbh). The tunnel light had been set up and tested before slipping; the last place I used it was Bruce Tunnel. What? ... You don't know the Bruce Tunnel? ... Sheesh!... Do you know Islington Tunnel? ... Sheesh! ... you need to get out more ... It's under your feet ...
Arriving at the eastern end, Sadbh had organised a space and I emerged into the dawn-glo tiptoeing in with a ferryglide. My water sprite guided me quietly and unobtrusively into a 37' space at 7.40am without disturbing a single resident, non-resident or even a dozing duck.
Secured and caffeinated, AtoZ was thumbed to ferret out the elements of my latest village and where the nearest bus stop might be. I also needed to locate the "nearest pint of milk" and routes and distances around my new location.
All of this would be by shank's mare. My latest village would assemble piecemeal.
Within days, I would know my way around my new village; learning more each day. And. Just as I have it together, I'll be gone.
My latest location is close to Angel, very close to Angel. An initial recce discovers that within 220yds I have a dry cleaner, a postbox, a grocery which is the"nearest pint of milk" and two cafes.
Extending the radius to 440m, I have bus stops at Angel and a Wetherspoon. I have a branch of my bank and a tube station.
Just outside the 440m circle is a cinema, Chapel Market and three supermarkets. One is a Waitrose. Now for a library
I had NONE of these when I was snowed in at Banbury in 2014 although I did have a 'Spoon. There is a challenge though!
My knees are in their 8th decade. The climb to Duncan Street is over 60ft and to Upper Street another 60. Eight flights of stairs.
Sabdh doesn't do knees. She is a water sprite.
Living here, you know where your next loaf of bread comes from. You have your water supply on tap, and electricity, TV, fridge freezer, all those creature comforts your great-grandma never even dreamed of but without which your life would fall apart. You have wifis, mobiles, laptops, alexas. You know your garden centres, shopping centres, epicentres, double centres. You possibly have your church tagged, your butcher, your baker and for all I know your candlestick maker.
Try Camden Passage for candles, cheese, bread, antics and junque. You know where to buy a stamp. You know shortcuts to the bookies, where to walk the dog or cycle a bike. Everything is familiar and you may even have a car outside the door to save your legs.
Me? I may change location twice in a week or maybe after two or three weeks. Each time my new village needs to be mapped and my Spoons located... I live "Off-Grid" ...
"Nearest Pint of Milk" is a euphemism! Somewhere in the middle of the Atlantic is a point where the nearest pint of milk is a toss up between St.Johns and Ballybunion. As a sailor come in from the sea, I am aware that on a canal boat you are rarely far from a pint of milk and in very rural areas it might be that cow chewing the cud over there. On an ocean passage, stores are carried to cover the duration of the voyage and extra. Even in the remotest parts of the inland waterways, I have rarely been more than a mile from the nearest pint of milk and sometimes the distance has been an armslength through the window of another boat [PHOTO]. Actually that was cider but we must never let the truth get in the way of a good story.
