Category: lifestyle

Are retro drinks the best?

I was in a shop in Oswestry this week and found Prime energy drinks at half price. I think it was just a couple of years ago that these drinks were released and for a while became an obsession amongst some groups of young people. There were limited supplies and drinks would exchange hands at well over the asking price. So I decided to try the blue raspberry and see what all the fuss was about.

It was disgusting. The strongest flavour was artificial sweeteners, followed by a slightly acid taste. There was certainly no flavour of raspberry. I admit the hit of caffeine was pleasant enough but I would certainly not buy it again. A classic example of trend over reality.

Let me instead sing the praises of retro soft drinks. These can be found at a bargain price and for my taste are so very much better. Most are from Scottish drinks company Barr.

I have to start with Tizer. Bright flashing red colour, it would originally have been made with enough food dye and levels of sugar to send a small child into a Tasmanian devil. These days the sugar has been much reduced and colourings are natural, but the flavour of red and citrus fruits sill dominate. Originally conceived in Manchester as “Pickup’s Appetiser” it is a favourite of mine.

Another Barr staple is their Cherryade. Of all these drinks this is the one that actually tastes of the fruit – although perhaps the dark bottled maraschino cherries you get in cocktails, rather than fresh fruit. When I worked in Scotland I had a friend who worked at Barr and would get me slabs of 24 cans at a a time for next to nothing. Needs to be drunk cold but very refreshing.

The most famous Barr drink is Irn Bru. With the slogan “Made with girders” it does indeed actually contain iron, as well as bright orange colouring and secret flavours. Scotland is the only country in the world that does not have Coca Cola as its favourite soft drink, preferring this temptation. It also used to be the go-to hangover cure north of the border because of unfeasibly high levels of sugar. There was stockpiling in 2016 when these were reduced. I choose the “Extra” version these days because it has no calories but still that original flavour.

The one soft drink I would celebrate that is not made by Barr is Vimto. Launched in 1908 in Blackburn Lancashire it was originally “Vimtonic” a herbal drink found in temperance bars, as an alternative to alcoholic drinks. The fruit flavours of blackcurrant, raspberry and grape were added in 1920 to make the drink we see today. As well as the fizzy pop, I really like the squash version – my chosen drink when navigating locks on the canal.

All of these retro drinks are leagues ahead of Prime, Monster and other so called energy drinks. What do you think? Are you a retro drinker? Do you have your own favourite – cream soda, limeade, or bubblegum perhaps? Are you a die hard fan of Coke or Pepsi? Or can you explain why anyone would drink Prime?

I’m off to find some orange lucozade. See you next week.

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I hate weed

There are certain jobs on a narrowboat that are not very nice. Pumping out the toilet tank is perhaps the worst. But pulling weed and rubbish from around the prop comes a close second. And this week’s canal from Chester to Ellesmere Port is one of the weediest in the country.

If you drive through the vegetation at normal speed, the propellor turns and pulls the weed around it. This causes the steering to fail, the boat to go much slower, and even the engine to stall. To avoid this, there are techniques we have learnt. Drive at speed up to the patch of weed, and then take it out of gear. The boat hopefully floats through the weed unscathed. Or if you do get some weed, try a hard reverse to “spin” it off again. But if neither of these works, you have to moor up the boat, lift the deck boards, climb into the engine bay, unscrew the weed hatch cover, reach down into the murky cold water and pull the weed off the prop and rudder. Fortunately this week I have only had to do that a few times.

It was worth the effort though, because we were able to moor for two nights in the middle of the National Waterways Museum at Ellesmere Port.

I have written in a previous blog about nights in the museum, but suffice to say it is one of our favourite moorings in the mornings and evenings when no-one is around and we have the place to ourselves. It is also a place full of history, where the Shropshire Union Canal joins the huge Manchester Ship Canal and the River Mersey. In times past it would have been a dirty, noisy dock with hundreds of workers and surrounded by heavy industry. A quiet place today, full of memories.

My son Rob says he loves most of my blogs but not the ones where I complain about something that has annoyed me this week. Sorry Rob but I don’t like weed.

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Is it autumn already?

It has been a lovely week on the cut (canals). After last week’s heatwave it has settled down to around 21°C each day which is very pleasant. At the same time we are beginning to notice it is not fully light first thing in the morning, and it is dark when we go to bed. There have been a few mornings where it is cold enough for a mist to rise from the canal when I take the dogs out. And some leaves are just beginning to turn brown at the edges.

August is too early for autumn. It is still the school summer holidays in England and many of the crops are still growing in the fields. But it is the end of summer, and there is a flavour in the air of what is to come.

I love days like these. Warm enough for shorts but not too warm. Sunrises and sunsets. When we set off in March it seemed as if this cruise would last forever, but we are already beginning to plan how we can get in everything we want before the end of this year’s adventure – our annual visit to the boat museum in Ellesmere Port, a week sharing a holiday on the Llangollen with Mandy’s brothers and partners, one last trip on the Shroppie and Staffs & Worcester.

The important thing for me, and not my natural instinct, is to put that planning aside and enjoy every day. Being retired is like being on a narrowboat. It is not about the destination, it is about loving the journey, whether in winter, spring, summer or autumn.

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Farewell to the Macc

This week we are back properly cruising the canals of the UK and have travelled down the beautiful Macclesfield Canal (the Macc) to rejoin the Trent and Mersey.

The Macc is quiet compared with the great canal & river thoroughfares such as the T&M, the Grand Union or the Thames. It has a reputation for being shallow, which is probably well deserved given closures in recent years, but this year we have had plenty of rain, and while some edges can be shallow, we did not find it too difficult to navigate. There is just one hire company and so most of our fellow boaters were either continuous cruisers like ourselves, or based in Lyme View marina, near Wilmslow.

After nearly six weeks with little movement it has been wonderful for us and the dogs to get back to what we love – pootling along and enjoying the journey. Sadly one of the reasons for our delay was vets tests for our dog Ziggy who it turns out has advanced cancer of the pancreas and bladder. There is nothing to be done so while as yet she is showing few symptoms, we have decided to make her last months as much fun as possible. That means cruising on the canals, cuddling and eating sausages.

We have three weeks from today to get to Ellesmere on the Llangollen canal, where we will meet up with Mandy’s two brothers and their wives who have hired a boat to share a holiday with us. We are really looking forward to that. Three weeks should be plenty of time, hopefully enough to also allow us a side trip up to Chester.

We are of course somewhat subdued with Ziggy’s news, but we are still loving the boating life, as is she.

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Five reasons why I love a day at the cricket

I have always been a casual cricket fan. I may watch the highlights on TV of an evening. If there is a big England match, I will keep in touch with the score. Occasionally I will go to one day of a test match, enjoying the slow pace of life, as nothing much happens most of the time. More likely if we are travelling on the narrowboat, I will find a local village match going on, and I will sit on the grass for an hour or two, enjoying the sunshine.

For the past few years my brother has invited me to a day at the Oval cricket ground in London, to see “The Hundred”, a relatively new competition in which each innings lasts just 100 balls, taking about an hour and a half to complete. During the day there is a women’s match and a men’s match, so four innings, lasting from about 2pm to 9.30pm.

It is one of my favourite days of the year. Here are just a few reasons:

* It is a family day. There have been different members of the family each time. This year it was me, my son Martin, my brother Mike and my niece Lucy. We don’t get to see each other much so it is always a fun reunion.

* The Hundred results in excitement. With such a short innings the batters have to take risks all the time, trying to hit fours and sixes and often getting caught. That usually results in matches that could go either way throughout. There is the razzmatazz of fireworks, a DJ and a singer, taking a lead from American football and baseball.

* But it is still cricket. While each team has its own supporters, we all sit together and pretty much everyone gets on. When someone does well they often receive a polite clap rather than whoops and cheers.

* I get to drink beer! We go up to London on the train and it is usually a fairly boozy day, starting in a pub and then moving into the ground. The good news is that I am a somewhat lightweight drinker so slow down in the evening, and wake up the next morning with a relatively clear head.

* My brother makes an awesome picnic. There is plenty enough food for the whole day. This year’s highlights were a ham and cheese bap, made with a strong blue cheese, and homemade sausage rolls, that he cooked freshly just before we left in the morning.

It is just a great day out and I have already requested an invitation for next year. You should try it.

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Am I too old for festivals?

The weekend before last we visited our eldest son Rob and his fiancée Alessa in their new house in Sussex. We had a lovely few days, eating well, drinking well and seeing the sights. I had not realised how beautiful that area of the country is, with rolling chalks downs and extensive views of the sea. Before we arrived Rob called to ask if we would like to join them at “On the Beach”, a music festival in Brighton. Mandy said she would prefer to stay at home with the dogs but I decided to go. I quite like the bands (The Kooks, Maximo Park, Kate Nash and others) and it sounded like an adventure.

I did enjoy the festival. The music was good, the weather stayed mostly fine and we had a few beers. But I did feel old. I was one of the oldest there and I confess I was glad we sat halfway back instead of pushing forwards into the mosh pit. I was also glad when we left before the last few songs so that we could beat the traffic.

If I had been Rob’s age I would have laughed roundly at such behaviours. What an old fogey! But I think at 60 it is time to embrace old fogeyism. I can enjoy occasions such as On The Beach without having to pretend I am 20 again.

What do you think? Is it good to act my age, or is that the first sign of the downward slope towards senility and death?

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Why are we not moving the narrowboat?

We have sold our house, visited our sons, sorted the packing. And now we are back at the boat. The plan was to be back on the move by now. So why are we still moored in Lyme View Marina?

It is all about Ziggy. We have two dogs – Lulu and Ziggy. Last week we took them to the vets to get their teeth cleaned. Lulu was fine but when the vets checked Ziggy’s blood, she was found to have really low sugar levels. Since then she has undergone a number of tests and the vets have ruled out the most common diseases. We have left Scotland because we no longer have a house, but the vet there has called us to say the most likely problem is an insulinoma, a growth on the pancreas.

So rather than setting off on our journeys we have registered with a local vet near Manchester and are waiting for a an ultrasound scan to see what is going on. Ziggy seems fine in herself so hopefully it is not too serious, although the prognosis for insulinoma is not great.

In all honesty I am finding it a little frustrating. I want to be back on “the cut”, cruising the canals. But Ziggy is family and family comes first.

At least this gives us time to do some house hunting and have some adventures. It was not my plan, but sometimes plans have to change. Apparently.

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Houseless not homeless

By the time this blog is published, we will be houseless. After nearly two years on the market our house in Scotland should complete its sale today and will have new owners – a lovely family who will get to enjoy the history of this nineteenth century farmhouse which became swallowed by a new town in the shale oil revolution around 1900.

I deliberately use the word “houseless” not “homeless” because we still have a home on our narrowboat. Dictionaries define “home” as simply the house where you live, but I think it means more. You know you are home when you sit down with a happy sigh. It is the place where you feel most comfortable and most safe. So much more than a house.

And when we arrived back at the boat last night we immediately felt at home. It just feels so right to be here. Putting all our stuff into storage this week has been pretty stressful. It has also reminded me how over the years we have collected things that we really don’t need. We are no happier in a house surrounded by chattels than we are in the boat where we have very little.

We do still want a house as a base for winters, and for the future when we can no longer operate locks or moveable bridges. Next week we will be staying with our eldest son and his fiancée near Brighton. We are looking forward to seeing them and their new home. And when we then return to the boat, we will properly start our house hunt.

But for now it is great to be home on Narrowboat Thuis. Entirely appropriately “Thuis” is Dutch for “home”.

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Who is this man?

I have written before that one of my hobbies is researching my family tree. This week I received a pack of old photographs from one of my Mum’s cousins. He has been tidying his house and knew that I am interested in the family, so sent them to me. He kindly annotated the backs of the pictures when he knew who they were, but this photograph was blank.

Most of the pictures are from the family of a man called John Davies, a distant cousin who was a chaplain serving in the Royal Navy, I knew the navy had chaplains but did not realise that they sailed on the ships for many months, just like ordinary sailors. John also served on submarines where he said that the confined space led to depression and need of a chaplain.

There were also photographs and newspaper articles about John’s relations. His father and grandfather were also priests, working in a small area of Wales. His grandmother was a very posh looking woman called Dorothy Jebb. She is my great great aunt and came from a very wealthy family.

But I am still stuck on this photograph. He looks a very smart soldier, I am guessing from the First World War. With three crosses on his wrist, perhaps he was a captain? John and his father both had low eyebrows, so it is not them.

In future times perhaps AI will allow me to search this photograph and find who it was, but for now I think it is sad that such a photograph, maybe made for a mother or sweetheart, cannot be identified. I will raise a glass to him.

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Is buying or selling a house more stressful?

Mandy and I have moved house twelve times since we have been together. It has become a joke amongst some of our friends who say they never know where to send the Christmas card. I often claimed that it had just become normal for us. People would ask me why I never wanted to put down roots. I would say that we are just good at setting up a new home anywhere we go.

But this time feels more stressful.

As you know we are retired and spend more than half the year on our narrowboat. That certainly feels like home when we are there. But we want to keep a house for the winter, when it is muddy. We want to keep a house for when we get bored of the boat or are too infirm to open locks. We want to keep a house so we have somewhere with a little more space for our stuff.

And this time, instead of moving for my work, we are moving closer to Mandy’s family and friends, from Scotland to Lancashire. This week we have been spending time in both as we look to sell and buy.

The sale process has been fraught. We have been “on the market” for two years and twice we have thought the sale was happening. The first time the buyer turned out not to have the money after several months. The second time, the chain of buyers fell apart at the last moment. We have waited and we hope that in two weeks we will be moved out. It has been stressful, and the solicitors are still throwing out last minute complications such as whether we can find some paperwork the council signed off when we did work on the house seven years ago. But the removal company is booked and we have begun things like cancelling utilities. We have not enjoyed selling the house at all.

We have tried to keep buying a house less stressful but we have failed. The idea was not to look at houses until we were sure the sale was happening. Our plan instead is to live on the boat while we look. But last time we were confident and found a lovely house. Of course that has gone after the failed sale, so this week we have been looking again, with our fingers crossed on the sale. This weekend we are driving round Lancashire viewing our shortlist of houses. This should be an enjoyable time. It should be exciting to find our new home. But for some reason we are not feeling excited. Perhaps it is the worry that the sale could still fail. Perhaps it is the worry that we will make a bad choice. We are not enjoying buying the house at all.

I am naturally a very positive person. I am confident it will all work out for the best. But I don’t this stress. Maybe it is because I no longer have the stress of work, so this seems like a bigger deal. Maybes it is because it is summer, and we would rather be back on the canals. But we just want to hide in our narrowboat.

First world problems eh?

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