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   1982  Summer
Looking back to the 1982 trip by Roger in 2006
We were depleted in numbers for this June 2-week trip. As well as other drop-outs, JOC had got married and decided that it might not be a good idea to leave Sue and go off for a fortnight’s boozing (I hope she agreed!). So I took on the organisation and was accompanied by Colin, Ron and Tom on the train to Worcester. Here we met John Flanagan, who would be with us for the first week. Because the boatyard was in deepest rural Worcestershire and none of us had transport, the hire company were kind enough to come and pick us up, complete with shopping. We started from Dunhampstead on the Worcs & Brum and headed south to Worcester and then north on the River Severn. We hoped to be at Stourport on the Sunday evening – until the boat’s engine failed as we were about to enter a lock. We were saved from drifting down the river by an alert lock keeper with a long pole. Apparaently I celebrated by leaping scantily clad into the river.
We got the boat sorted quickly and resumed our journey, moving north on the Staffs & Worcs canal. We were taking it in turns to hold the whip and when we reached Kinver on Monday evening, Flan was the man with the money. No sooner did the boat touch the bank he was ashore and off into town with not so much as a “what’s yours?” We said “up yours” and finally caught up with him a few hours later emerging quite unashamed from one of the town’s many pubs.
The next day we were heading up the Stourbridge canal with the aim of visiting Brierley Hill and Netherton and the classic pubs there. We were stymied by a broken lock which rendered further progress impossible. We immediately repaired to the local pubs to reconsider our plans and ended up at Stourbridge for the evening. As we reached the canal terminus an individual on the bank pointed out what he reckoned was the best mooring point. When we’d tied up he told us where the shops were and also mentioned that we were very handy for the nearest pub. Colin and I had to do some shopping and when we got back we found the boat unlocked but deserted. Looking around we saw an open door in the nearest building; through the door we saw what looked like a bar; and seated at the bar we saw our companions. Our welcoming stranger was of course landlord of this pub! John Flan clearly didn’t intend to hold the whip very long so when he discovered that a female customer hailed from Tylseley (an obscure district of Brum) he was only too happy to lavish her with drinks. Eventually we dragged him away to visit more of the town’s pubs.
The next day we retraced our steps to the S & W and pointed the boat north, moving on to the Shroppie. By Friday lunchtime we were at Audlem where we bade a sad farewell to Flanagan who somehow managed to make his way back to Brum by public transport.
The bad news is he was replaced by Steve Tracey who joined us at Wheelock the following afternoon. By now we were on the Trent & Mersey heading south. What’s more, once we were through the Harecastle Tunnel we were also going downwards, which caught Ron unawares in a lock. Result: one bent rudder. Mind you it improved our steering no end! Our journey now took us through the wilds of the midlands, under Spaghetti Junction and into the heart of Brum. We whizzed through umpteen locks in quick time (even without people setting 19 locks in advance) and reached Gas Street Basin shortly before dusk. We quickly found a Davenports pub with tv (the World Cup in Spain started that week) and settled down to watch the footy over a pint or several.
The last morning of the trip saw us tackle to Tardebigge flight. We’d largely enjoyed fine weather for the last 12 days but with 36 locks ahead of us we woke up to the sound of rain on the roof. The only one with full waterproofs was Tom who, after half an hour or so in the deluge, generously volunteered to cook breakfast. Despite all this we were in the Boat & Railway before noon and back at the boatyard by the evening.
The next morning we had a dilemma. We hoped to prevail on the boatyard’s generosity and get a lift back to Worcester station. At the same time we ought really to report that we had buggered the rudder. So we got a lift back – and a week or so later I got an angry letter from the boatyard!
That was to be our last two week canal trip. Oddly enough it would be seven years before we did another summer trip.
River Seven, Jake just after total emersion.
River Seven, Ron (he's seen all this before in Singapore) This picture of Roger Jobsonson mooning is a copy, the original Tom had to hand to the nuns as evidence.
Batch Lock, Staffordshire and Worcester Canal, Ron and John (you will note Ron has not noticed how John is making sure the tiller is clear of the cill).
What is Jake doing in the picture? According to him he is ducking a low flying swarm of locusts. More likely practising for some more mooning, so below for more details
Has Ron learnt something from Flanagan? (why is there no water under the boat?) also note where the gear lever is
The Tontine at Stourport when it had Real Ale. It must have been a warm day as Tom has taken his jumper off.Or was he preparing for a dip
Ron after he has been given a good bashing with the boat pole
Kings Norton Tunnel, this time we got by without our boat being broken into besides us leaving the doors open and also putting Tom's canal gear out for easy pinching
Tontine, Stourport, John Flanagan, Jake, Colin & Ron
Colin and Steve (Steve has just forced Colin off the tiller as there is a camera about).Colin is giving a very good impression of a country vicar.
Colin in the Galley - I bet mince is involved
Ron and Colin on the River Severn
1983 The year of the Rat
Autumn 1983
This was a small-scale trip organised by Bill in a largely lock-free section of the network. With Bill were Colin, Tom, Iain and myself. Iain missed the train to Rugby so we had to leave a message on a blackboard at the station to tell him what pub we were going to (I've a feeling it was called the Squirrel). Once fully assembled we shopped at got cabs to the boatyard which was in some remote outpost of the Warwickshire countryside - and it was lashing with rain by now.
The boatyard was on the Grand Union just west of the junction with the southern Oxford canal. We headed that way in the first place to stop for the evening at the Bridge at Napton (Davenports). After that we headed back north up the Oxford, on to the Coventry as far as Atherstone and up the Ashby canal and back. This was for the most part a fairly uneventful week (unless my mind has blotted out any scandalous behaviour - but Tom would have it on film if there was). What excitement there was came on the Thursday. At lunchtime we were at Nuneaton and it was Bill's turn to cook. He announced he would be going totally down market and serving pie and mash (wouldn't happen these days, eh?) As the rest of us had offered haute cuisine we were none too impressed. Bill went off shopping and the rest of us returned to the boat. I noticed a dead rat on the towpath and kicked it in the canal. However a live rat known as Tom decided to fish it out again. We then put it on a plate complete with cutlery and condiments and left it for Bill's return. He was suitable disgusted. That evening we visited the Miners Arms at Bedworth. We were asked not to sit in the public bar as there was due to be a ladies darts match that evening (coincidentally against the pub we'd been in at lunchtime). Unfortunately the oppo failed to show up and we were asked to help consume the sarnies that had been prepared. After Bill's apology for a dinner (some of us thought the rat might have been a better bet) we tucked in with relish. Bedworth was one of those areas with 10.30 midweek closing. Bill therefore was swilling ale (probably Pedigree) with more than his usual gusto. However, the witching hour came and went with no sign of a bell and we quickly grasped that afters were the order of the night. Someone (I suspect Colin) then discovered on the jukebox that dreadful record Superman that was a hit (with a capital S) around that time - one of those records aimed at idiots who like jumping around performing silly actions. So we did - several times - apart from Bill who sat at the bar tut-tutting into his pint. This was Bill's last time on the canals
Tom took this to mean that the people experiencing the said year should eat rat on canal trips. Consequently a half daid year should eat rat on canal trips. Consequently a half dazed brown rat was fished out of the canal, clubbed to death and brought down to the galley for preparation into the crazed idea of a gastronomic delight. As Bill Wadley was normally the first to the dinning table he had the harrowing experience of being served a garnished raw ‘Rat Macclesfield' a local delicacy according to the ‘chef’. An ashen faced Bill who was a regular up to then, never recovered from this encounter with his rodent nemesis and has never ventured on a canal boat since.Sadly Bill died in 2006.
Jake, Colin and Iain, who seems to saluting the people on the boat passing them
Despite the heat in the galley, Tom is pictured cooking (!!!) with his faithful jumper on; they did everything together in the early canalling days. On closer inspection of the stove there doesn’t seem many pots in use, which most probably was a good thing considering Tom’s earlier offering to Bill
Two famous jumpers pictured, Tom’s and Gerald (Bill’s) Roger and Colin can only look on in admiration
Tom and Iain. Another favourite item of Tom’s apparel was this army surplus coat that he wore even when it was warm, for in those days his wardrobe didn’t stretch to T shirts and other summer goodies. His canal gear was originally brought for damp October days and it was a shame to waste them
A smooth getaway with Jake and Iain on the ropes, Bill climbing on the boat and Colin posing for the camera
Boat Inn, a Davenport Pub
1984 When Dude met Mutley
It's 29 September 1984 and time for a brief revival of the autumn canal trips. Eight worthy boaters and drinkers have gathered at Euston for the trip to Macclesfield, including first timer Mutley, aka… er, does anyone know his real name? BT layabout and Steve's lodger. Also hanging around on the station concourse was a strange looking character named Ken, a workmate (for a time!) of Colin. When we got on the train we were surprised to find that Ken had followed us and was busy chatting up any unfortunate female sitting near him. At one point he was heard to describe himself as "a really cool dude" and thus a name was born. Once at Macclesfield we immediately decamped across the road to the Nags Head where pints of Robinsons were devoured with alacrity. Noting that the 'Cool Dude' had followed us to the pub it dawned on us that he was actually planning to spend the entire week with us. Come closing time we were all well Robboed as we staggered down to the boat yard to pick up our boat Windsor. It was here that things turned unpleasant. First of all JOC, who booked the boat, decided he wanted to be alone and immediately retired to his pit. Unfortunately the boat yard owner (who henceforth shall be known as Mr R Sole) demanded to deal solely with the hirer and was not best pleased to hear a tired and emotional O'Connor tell him to "go away" . R Sole was also unimpressed to find some of the prospective boaters flashing their tadgers and pissing in the cut. "There's toilet on t'boat" he grumbled as he trudged to his office to slap on a swingeing and unreturnable extra deposit. On the way to an evening at Bollington the Dude was discovered reading a cheap 1 T Edson cowboy paperback. This, not to mention repeated playings of El Paso on the pub jukebox that evening, inspired the cowboy theme to the week. Toy guns were bought at the earliest opportunity, including the type that fires potato pellets and made for some interesting decoration of the boat walls. Mutley was the main instigator of all this craziness and he and the Dude got on really well! He also proved, unlike the Dude, to be a highly competent driver. Our boat, incidentally, had a wood burning stove and chimney. Needless to say pints, mostly Boddies, Robboes and Marstons, were sunk in prodigious quantities and every session was a wild affair with darts, skittles, shooting much in evidence. Come Thursday Mutley had to return to work -not that he ever did any -and we managed to convince him that he could catch a train from Mow Cop, a tiny village on an 1,100 foot high hill. We trudged up the hill to the Cheshire View for a swift gallon of Pedigree before Mutley realised he had been wound up. On the way back he tried to thumb a lift to the nearest station but the one driver who did stop was a trifle dubious about this strange hitch hiker and demanded that he checked Mutley's case. This was opened (for about the first time that week) to reveal a dirty pair of underpants, a toy gun and the last page of Dude's book. Mutley had to carry on walking. On the last night we were back in Macclesfield and determined to finish the week in style. We spent the evening in the canalside Puss in Boots (no, lain, I said puss in Boots) supping copious pints of Boddies (when it was still worth drinking) and playing riotous games of darts cricket to the amazement of the locals. Back in the boat, a hungry Dude found the only food remaining on the boat, two eggs, and decided to boil them for his supper. He retired to his bunk while they cooked for a read of what was left of his book, and returned to find two eggshells and Jake and Steacy looking innocent. On the last morning we renewed acquaintance with R Sole who was presumably amazed to find his boat back in one piece. He was none too impressed by the state of Steve's mattress which had been ripped asunder in a frenzied sexual attack. Needless to say there was no chance of us seeing our deposits again. And so we said our farewells. It would be three years before we ventured on the canals again, but Mutley would never return. I wonder what happened to that Ken O'Brien chap?
Fortunately is dark so you can't see Tom's two toned green jumper, an ever present item of apparel up to 1998
Jake, Steve, JOC and Iain keep their distance from the Dude.
The good ship Windsor complete with a funnel to keep knocking over on the Macclesfield Canal
The splendid Ken O’Brien, known to his many Navigating friends as the Dude. Navigating would never be the same after this trip. Ken to date (2007) has been an ever present
Marple, Iain instructing and Dude driving. Judging by the angle of the boat to the lock, as crash is imminent.
Pete note the chimney on the boat for a wood & coal bunning stove. Pete &JOC spent the trip chopping wood to keep the temperature inside the boat up to levels only felt in saunnas.
John, respondent in a bobble hat and camouflage jacket takes the boat for a walk in preference to the driver and instructor mentioned above.
Iain and Pete bonding by operating lock together, well Iain looks like doing the operating and Pete the resting. Below Pete puts a bit more effort in by holding the rope
Marple again this time Iain has given up instructing and is driving. However this seems no consolation for the  crew as they are all looking anxiously ahead. What are they worried about, the worst drivers on the cut are all aboard the Windsor.