Five reasons that a breakdown can be a good thing

Our narrowboat broke down again this week. You may remember it overheated when we were in Scotland. This time the alternator belt shredded when we were just south of Wigan. We could have been frustrated or angry. It spoilt our plans, and some people had told us it was not safe to moor near Wigan overnight. But instead we chose to make the best of it, and I have five reasons that the breakdown was a good thing for our retirement adventure…

  1. We met Harry. We had called out River Canal Rescue but unfortunately they did not have the right size belt. Harry was passing on the towpath and offered to help. He fixed the belt with insulation tape and refitted it so that we could get a few hundred yards down the canal to a much safer mooring with other boats. I love the folk we meet on the canal.
  2. We learnt that we should always carry a spare belt. The original one is now replaced, but I will order a second as soon as I can find the part number!
  3. It reminded us that as a 19th Century Prussian general once said “No plan survives contact with the enemy”. As a result we have had a more relaxed week, for instance traversing the Runcorn arm of the Bridgewater canal, which was not in our original plan and was beautiful.
  4. We now know the sound of a slipping belt, so that if it happens again we can be prepared.
  5. It explains our Scottish overheating. The theory that it was a failing thermostat never quite convinced me, especially when it overheated again last week, with no thermostat installed. But the alternator belt also drives the coolant pump, so when it was slipping there was no pump.

Every day is a school day, and that applies equally in retirement as at work. How was your week? Did you breakdown too?

Married for 35 years

Monday was our 35th wedding anniversary. Thirty five years is an awfully long time. When we first got married I was just 22 and knew very little about the world. In the 35 years since then, Mandy and I have both changed so much. Many people tell you that to make a marriage successful you need to work at it. Of course that is true, but I think there is also a huge element of luck. We are fortunate that we have tended to change together rather than change away from each other. I know many couples who were perfectly suited when they married but over the years have simply grown apart.

Incredible hair!

This year was always going to be critical for the two of us. After many years when work dominated my life and I was often away from home during the week, suddenly we would be together all day every day – this summer in the confined space of a narrowboat. And on top of that, retirement brings a lot of time to reflect on what you want from life.

So you can imagine how delighted I am that we seem to be rubbing along pretty well. We are both really enjoying the contrast of peaceful miles of country canals with the bustle of industrial city centres. We are both enjoying both meeting old friends and family we have not seen for years, and also the solitude of time to ourselves. So different from who we were 35 years ago, but still in love.

Sorry for soppy post. Back to normal grumbling next week.

Why are visitors tiring?

We don’t have grandchildren at the moment. And our sons are both over 30. So it is some time since we have looked after children. It was with some trepidation as well as excitement that we looked forward this week to thirteen and fourteen year old boys staying with us for a couple of days on the boat. Noah is our great nephew, and Ewan is his friend. The good news is that neither was a surly teenager with his head in an electronic device. Rather, both were extremely helpful, and on Wednesday we went down 26 locks with them. A great experience, including the famous Wigan flight of 21 locks.

We had a really good time with the boys, including too much junk food and pop, but also teaching them our favourite game of cards, as well as how to steer a narrowboat. What I had not expected was that by the end of the two days I would be completely knackered. Despite the boys being very helpful throughout, and despite them being old enough to keep themselves amused, I was reminded how much attention visitors require, especially in the confines of a boat.

Mandy and I are still in our fifties, so hardly old fogies, and we are looking forward this weekend to seeing Mandy’s brother, Andrew, and our newly qualified doctor niece, Zoë. But we are also looking forward to next week when it will be back to just the two of us.

When we lived in a house we always enjoyed having visitors and equally when they left. The boat just exaggerates this.

How about you? Do you prefer visitors arriving or leaving?

Do cars drive too fast?

We have been berthed at a marina this week. Rather a good idea because we have mains electricity while our solar panels have been removed. Also good because it has been peeing with rain for most of the week. I have scraped and sanded the old paint and rust from underneath the solar panels, and it is ready for priming and painting as soon as the weather improves. My brother in law, Stephen, commented that a year ago I would have been making high powered decisions about UK banking, and now my hardest decision is whether I think the rain will hold off long enough to get on a coat of red oxide.

He is right of course and I am fine with that. Perhaps my world view has shrunk, as I have retired and started living on a narrowboat. But there is something very satisfying about learning to do things with my hands and learning to live life in the slow lane. Because we have been in a marina, we have been able to spend more time with friends and family, including a few car journeys. And after a month at less than 3mph, cars feel so very fast. Hunks of steel hurtling at each other, inches apart. Very scary.

I am not sure this change in my attitude is a good one. I am very much enjoying my new life, but if I am finding cars too scary, perhaps I have gone too far. What do you think?

Is retirement just a very long holiday?

I have been told that I will not truly understand retirement till I have been retired for over a year. Until then it feels too much like just a very long holiday. That may be true, but boy am I enjoying this very long holiday. We are now nearly a month into our summer narrowboat trip, and while every day something goes wrong, also every day we get to enjoy the wonderful countryside and slow pace of canal life.

This week we have had the excitement of Bingley five rise, the biggest staircase of locks in the world. We have found ourselves stuck in one of the widest locks in the world at Castleford (we called an engineer). We have spent Saturday night with our eldest son on the boat right in the centre of Leeds. I have wandered the streets of Saltaire and Shipley looking for a barber. We had a wonderful evening in a brew pub with two of our friends we have not seen for six years. And every afternoon we have sweltered in the heat. Even though we have insulation, a narrowboat is basically a steel can, and gets so very hot in the sunshine.

I think my favourite day of all this week was moored up in the middle of nowhere, overlooking the Aire valley, and just chilling, reading a book, watching a film, painting my poles.

It may feel like a long holiday rather than “proper” retirement, but it is so much more relaxing than any holiday I have had before. I love it.

What do you think?

Is it better to live in a house or a boat?

For some reason I have been dreaming about big houses this week. I have been fortunate enough to live with a lot of space over the years. When I was growing up my Dad was a priest which meant we had very little money, but we did live in great vicarage, next to the church. Maybe that is why we have tended to buy large houses wherever we have lived.

One of our houses – Monkroyd in Todmorden

But now we are living in a 57 foot by 6 foot narrowboat with tiny lounge, eating area, kitchen, bathroom and bedroom. If we tried swinging a cat, the cat would not end up well. I wonder if that is why I am dreaming of stately homes, great hotels and very large houses.

But I am not sure I really miss the space. Even when we have lived in large houses, in reality we have spent almost all our time in the lounge and one bedroom. We are getting on absolutely fine in the boat, and in many ways we have more space than we can imagine, as we travel through the English countryside. Certainly I am meeting far more people than if we lived in one place, and narrowboat folk are in general a friendly bunch. We are all very different from each other, but we rub along just fine.

So I think I will enjoy my dreams, and maybe visit a big house or two along our journey. But I will continue to value this way of life for the next few months.

What kind of space do you live in? Do you wish for something different?

Have a great weekend, Pete

Starting the adventure – part 2

We are in England. The next stage of our narrowboat adventure starts here. The journey from Scotland has frayed our nerves but we have got here. The weather just about held for our journey along the Clyde. As you can see from the picture of us rounding Dumbarton Rock, it is a wide river.

Lifting the boat out of the river in torrential rain and then putting it back in in England was equally nerve wracking. I knew the guys were experts but seeing the boat hanging in the air, it just looked as if it could topple over very easily!

But we got here safely and the English canal network journey has begun. We are travelling down the Dearness and Dove canal into Sheffield, with both our sons, Rob and Tin. Because of Covid, Mandy had not seen Rob for two years and it was a great reunion. Next week we go back up to Doncaster, across on the Aire and Calder to Castleford and then onto the great Leeds and Liverpool canal, ready to start our journey over the Pennines to Lancashire.

Despite some pretty shocking weather in recent days, we are already remembering why we own a narrowboat. Pootling along some beautiful countryside with very few cares. It even helped calm my nerves for the England game on Wednesday night.

I hope you are also relaxing as we head into the summer.

Have a great weekend, Pete

Starting the adventure – part 1

After several years of dreaming, several months of preparing, our narrowboat adventure has fully begun. We left the Kelpies a week and a half ago, and after a couple of days on the Union canal towards Edinburgh, we set off along the Forth & Clyde to Glasgow and the Clyde.

What was meant to be a two day trip actually took four. Our engine overheated and went bang with lots of smoke. We had to stop and call out River Canal rescue who removed a possibly faulty thermostat, probably exacerbated by the vast amount of weed in this canal that has not been used by boats for two years. Then when we could get going again, two lift bridges at Clydebank broke down, and the only automated drop lock in the world stopped working when we were in the middle of it. A drop lock is where you drop down in the lock to go under a road and then come up the lock on the other side. A marvellous piece of engineering – when it works!

So we are now at Bowling – a marina at the end of the canal. Since we arrived here our batteries have drained too fast because the solar panels appear to be faulty, and we were using too much electricity. We are having to run the engines for several hours each day to provide power. Then our bathroom sink started leaking, soaking everything underneath it. A quick trip to a caravan parts shop in Glasgow, and some very dodgy plumbing from me appears to have fixed it for now.

On Sunday we plan to take our most perilous journey, an hour on the wide tidal Clyde river, up to Dumbarton Sandpoint where we will wait till Tuesday and then be lifted out by crane onto a lorry to travel down to the English canal network for the rest of the year. My fingers are crossed. If there is no blog next week you will know why.

What have I learnt this week? A reminder that in narrowboating, patience is everything. If something can go wrong, it probably will, and there is no point in getting upset. Better to relax and enjoy the moment.

Have a great week.
Pete

Ten lessons I have learnt in the first six months of retirement

This week marks the six month anniversary of me retiring, and is an appropriate time to reflect on what I have learnt.

On the cut this week
  1. Work is much less important than I expected. Many people would tell me that after 35 years I would miss the challenge of work, and that I would be back soon. It has not turned out that way. I have been offered odd days of highly paid work and have turned them down. Maybe that will change in the next six months but for now, retirement is definitely for me.
  2. Sleep is great. I have always got by on about six and a half hours of sleep. Although I still like to get up early, I now have about eight hours of sleep. It definitely helps my well being.
  3. Food and drink are far too accessible. At work, even working from home, the rhythm of meetings kept me busy all day. Now it is much to easy to reach for the cookie jar. One for me to watch in the next six months.
  4. I love the freedom to do the unexpected. Yesterday, we were moored up, and I discovered the Falkirk monument was nearby, commemorating the battle between Jacobites (Scots) and Hanoverians (English) in 1746. I spent a happy afternoon wandering the battlefield imagining how it would have been.
  5. Mandy and I really like each other. I had heard so many stories of couples that retired and found that over the years they had grown apart. I am not saying we never argue, but most of time it feel like we are a team. I love it.
  6. It can be as motivating to do a trivial job in retirement as to solve a billion pound problem at work. I truly loved my work. I felt I was involved in big decisions that really mattered. I loved being involved in fixing the problem one day when no-one in the UK could make a faster payment. But surprisingly it was equally motivating yesterday to fix the electrical horn on the boat.
  7. I miss the people from work, but am making new friends. The good news is that I have stayed in touch with quite a few of my old colleagues. Also a little surprising because I am terrible at staying in touch. But I have enjoyed getting to know new people in my new life, especially on the canals. Boaters are an eclectic bunch, but always interesting.
  8. I think I will always be a planner. I had great intentions of not planning anything and just seeing where we ended up. But I do plan a lot – where we need to be when, what we need, what we will do. I like to think I am now prepared to be more flexible to circumstances changing. But I do like a plan!
  9. I enjoyed the stress of work, but I am enjoying more the abscence of stress. There is something energising about the adrenaline associated with stress. In most of my roles, I was “always on” 24 by 7, ready to deal with major incidents. It was exciting. But I don’t miss that stress. My blood pressure is down and I feel better in myself.
  10. Retirement is about enjoying the moment, not about distracting yourself. We had plans to go to Orkney for a month and then travel on the canals, as a way of distracting myself from wanting to work. These plans got disrupted by Covid, but in some ways I am glad they did. As we set off for four months on the canals now, it is all about what we will do, who we will see, and how lovely it is.

Are you retired or thinking of it? What is your experience?

Why is it hard to say goodbye?

Despite Scottish Canals running out of water this week, we should finally set out on our adventure on Monday. From Falkirk to Glasgow, and then a week later out of the water to a lorry to take us down to the English canal network for the rest of the season. It is a retirement promise that we have planned for a number of years, and should have started in March, if this pesky pandemic had not happened. But as I write this morning, I am struggling to say goodbye to the marina where we have seen berthed since we bought the boat, and to the comfortable way of life we have had in Scotland, with a house in short driving distance from the boat.

This is particularly strange because throughout our lives, Mandy and I have moved house many times, usually for my work, and have always balanced the excitement of new challenges to be greater than the loss of certainty from where we were already happy. And strange because we do plan to come back to Scotland in the winter, for other adventures, such as a month in Orkney.

I guess I am a little nervous of the trip to England, specifically the short journey from the canals, along the Clyde to the boatyard to be craned out. The Clyde is a wide tidal river, carrying big ships and fast moving craft. We have been getting prepared, including this week borrowing the heaviest anchor and chain I have even seen on a narrowboat – just in case. But it is still scary. I am also a little nervous about what happens when things break down. I have done the training in plumbing, electrics and engine maintenance, but that is not the same as doing it for real.

However, I can feel the positive energy from being nervous, and I am desperate to get back to cruising – to wake up each morning in a different place, to reclaim the relaxation from chugging through the countryside at 3mph. And one thing I have loved this year since retirement is spending most of my time with Mandy. Perhaps surprisingly, given that we have spent much time apart over the years through work, we find we still really enjoy each other’s company – most of the time anyway.

What about you? What is your attitude to major change? Excited by the anticipation or scared of what could go wrong?

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