Like a Side of Meat

Frozen chickens, pork chops - you know how I feel.

Gammon steaks from the "chiller cabinet", you know how I feel.

Even Linda McCartney Pies, you know how I feel.

It's a new dawn, it's a new day, and it's damn cold - for me.  And I'm feeling Brrrrrr...

Look, I don't want to moan.  And in fact, I have no inclination to really; when you are on a trip like this, even the shittest things have a fascination factor.  I am really very happy indeed living on this boat.  Really though, this morning took the biscuit. Or more appropriately, the frozen peas.

Picture the scene:  7am.  Sun streaming through the gap in the curtains – one of those golden mornings that make you feel  like you are a little worker bee, cuddled up in a honeycomb before the shift starts. You are snug and warm, largely by dint of the fact that you have two duvets and a quilt - bearing a dozen appliqué milkmaids done in a country cottage style - on top of you. You awake to the sound of gentle tinkling somewhere nearby. It is very fairytale like, and you listen to it as you swoop gently between sleep and wakefulness at the edge of the day. The tinkling continues. Has Santa come early, you think in your half-sleep. Or are the fairies blundering about collecting up the bottles after another durunken all-night do? Perhaps it is the sound of the nightingales kissing each other goodbye before fluttering off to their beds, you fancy as you turn over for another five minutes.

When you start wondering if it is someone chucking gravel at your boat, you can be sure you are more awake than asleep. It was at the gravel-suspecting point that I yawned awake with the dawning realisation that the tinkly sound was emanating from inside, not outside my boat. 'Must be a small rodent playing silly buggers with a handful of gravel down there by the back door' I thought. As soon as I thought this, I became aware that I was still asleep and muttering utter bollocks to myself. I commanded myself to wake up. The more I forced the crankie-handle of my frozen brain round in an attempt to cough it into life, the more I began to suspect that I was indeed missing something. I mean, what kind of rodent would sneak into a boat under cover of darkness just to throw stones at a window that it could easily throw stuff at from the outside? No, this was not the work of a vole or water rat. This was something else. But what, reader, what?

I sat up, bolt upright, and looked at the window. I'd just heard the tinkling sound again but had missed the perpetrator, mammalian or otherwise. I sat and waited for it to happen again. That was when I noticed how chuffing cold it was. This fact was duly confirmed when a glistening bud of water that I had took to be a droplet of condensation fell off the window frame to the floor with the unmistakable sound of a small piece of gravel hitting a hard surface. Water doesn't make a gravelly sound, does it.....not unless it is frozen. I reached over to the window to touch one of the plethora of similar droplets arranged like a string of diamonds along the frame. They were rock solid. I looked at the window. It was caked with ice on the inside.  I contemplated getting out of bed. I thought 'Sod it'.

Of course I did get up soon after that – I am far too greedy to deny myself breakfast-based gratification, whatever the weather. And once the fire was going, I felt it was safe to wake the rest of my brain up, gently.  Shortly after lighting the stove though, before the boat heated up properly, we had a glance at a dodgy thermometer we dug out of our camping kit. It read just under 3 Degrees C.

Our boat is officially colder than our fridge.

Comments

[peter]

It may seem an obvious question but why do you not leave your fire in overnight?

[Little More]

Ah, Peter, you might well ask. There are two reasons I can give you. See what you'd like to do with 'em. Firstly, it seems like a bit of a waste of fuel. We are living on a tiny budget and with a big commitment to not using more natural resources than we need. And despite the indignance I thoroughly enjoyed showing in my blog entry, I am actually fairly hardened to the cold - I grew up in a draughty house without central heating- and it is only a slight inconvenience to make a dash for the stove in the morning and quickly get a fire going (especially when Al does it). The second reason makes me suspect that I am in fact a bit of a halfwit. I suffer from a probably risible sense of paranoia that I will fume myself to death with carbon monoxide if I leave the fire on. This is down primarily to inexperience, I am sure: we only came a board 5 months ago and it has only just got properly cold. I have no idea how many windows you are supposed to have open overnight in a 38ft boat to prevent CO build-up. Is is it one? Two? Also, I am sceptical that my 8mm stove rope is enough to do the business given that my Beckton Bunny really requires 10mm rope (do you think I can find 10mm rope? Not in a badger's arse). We have not got around to buying a CO detector yet, it's true, but even if we had one, being a natural pessimist, I would still be snuggling down every night convinced that some fire-or-fume-based disaster will occur in the night. So on balance freezing my ear-lobes off for just the 20 minutes every morning seems the more straightforward choice. You see my predicament. Any advice?

PS Thank you for reading the blog!

[peter]

I understand your concerns - I fitted a Stanley Fion stove in the space where once stood a Cornish Range (http://www.waterfordstanley.com/44_440.htm)

It heats the whole house burning wood which, by the way, is, according to eco-friendly science, carbon neutral. I gather wood locally - Sue from No Problem seems to have no problem (sorry) acquiring wood from along the cut. She makes reference to this in one of her latest entries - Fog lights on near Grubb Street - http://www.choiceforum.co.uk/blog/noproblem.html

As a long term continuous cruiser Sue will have experienced many a cold time and probably will be able to answer your serious questions.

All I know is that my fire has been burning continuously day and night since the middle of September - our whole house is warm and dry and we are still here.

Occasionally I make the mistake of using wood that is not properly seasoned or is either rhodendron. It burns fiercely and is nice and warm but emits loads of creosote if burnt slowly, then it is smelly because the creosote condenses on the flue and no matter how well sealed the fragrance assails the nostrils. It is no fun to clean out. Mind you the flue on a narrowboat is considerably shorter than mine.

You can find 10mm rope and thicker here: http://www.stovespares.co.uk/stove-spares-sundries.html

Alternatively I can acquire it for £1.75 a meter from Warriors just down the road ( http://www.warriorstoves.co.uk/) and post it to you.

Just another point - does your fire emit fumes in the daytime? If not, then why would it do so at night. If you bank it up at night and damp it down then it glows away for ages, even if it goes out in the early morning the boat will have residual heat from the stove to maintain air temperature.

I enjoy reading your blog - I have been trying to discipline myself to be more proactive with mine but I have issues with time - I take too long preparing each entry, perhaps I am trying to be too erudite.

regards

Peter

http://www.canal-photos.co.uk/showgallery.php?cat=500&ppuser=93

[Carrie]

Ha! Your blog made me laugh. I've taken to sleeping with my next-day's underwear under my pillow cos it's too cold to put on otherwise... (I'm sure you wanted to know that).
I don't mind it being freezy outside if I'm under a mountain of blankets, duvet and dog, but that first rush to get the stove going in the morning does take a bit of courage.

[peter]

Thermal underwear and winsiette nighties - phooorr - and all that on a blog.

I take it you do not need the rope - the offer is there if you want to take it up. I went to Warriors today for fire cement to reseal the stove - something I should have done two months ago. The next thing is replacing the rope seals.

My wife and me have been toying seriously with spending some time on the cut - one more adventure we keep promising ourselves.

Your tale of tinkling shards of ice is food for thought - at least we too have the duvet and the dog.

regards

Peter

osscat.blogspot.com

[Solid Wood Flooring]

I have no idea.