I was walking over Westminster Bridge today and saw a rather nice Dutch barge on the water. I wondered if it was one of the many boats that’ll be taking part in Sunday. By the time I got my camera out it was too late for a photograph.
Looking towards Lambeth Bridge, I saw some boats travelling in what looked like formation.
Formation
With the end of May fast approaching, my thoughts are finally turning to the Jubilee. London is bunting mad. When did bunting become cool again? Free cycle is full of requests for old material to cut up and drape across the streets of sunny South London. If I had time, I think I’d make some myself.
I wouldn’t describe myself as a royalist, but I do have a fondness for the Queen. Thanks to a fifteen-year-old who has been absorbing the more arcane facts about Her Majesty like a sponge, and then relaying them prefaced by “Did you know….?”, I think I might do quite well at a Jubilee Quiz Night. I now know that the number of units of alcohol she has every day puts her in the at risk category; she likes detective fiction, which explains why P D James is in the Lords; her favourite Blue Peter presenter was John Noakes; and she currently has three corgis, Holly, Willow and something else. Willow is not a name that makes me think of corgis. They have rather short legs and are solid little dogs. Willow suggests something rather more, well, willowy. She was a fan of Kojak in the eighties. Who’d have thought it?
I was in the West End today and the whole place has gone flag and bunting mad. I was in a bit of a hurry so couldn’t take the photographs I should have liked, but thought you might enjoy this little gallery of flags from today and recent weeks.
Maybe you can spot the odd one out.
Last time at das Boot I stopped at a village I sometimes drive through. If it had a village shop still, it would be perfect.
I visited the chapel. It was delightful from the outside.
One of my great aunts was christened Margaret Beatrice Etheldreda. She was always known as Tup, short for Tuppence. As the youngest daughter, my great grandfather called her his tuppenny bit.
The chapel was delightful on the inside too.
I loved its plain interior. The simplicity of the font.
Hovercraftdoggy, two architects who post wonderful photographs by a whole range of people, posted one of a baby caravan in dappled sunshine the other day. You can see it here if you click. I’ve been thinking about it off and on ever since.
I covet it. I imagine it is cramped, and I do not know that I would want to tow anything anywhere. But I still I want one.
I had a look online. There seem to be quite a few about.
Then I found this.
I am still living with stress at work as nothing has been resolved. I know some thrive on stressful environments. I find them terribly corrosive. My energy levels have plummeted, I am unfocused; lasse is the French word which comes to my mind.
So today, recognising that I was slipping again, I made myself a little list of achievable targets for the afternoon. Nothing grand. A trip to the bank to pay the taxman, a cheque for Mother’s Personal Allowance so she can get her hair and feet done, a few emails, a call to the vet surgery to make an appointment for NotCat’s vaccinations, bake a cake. Continue reading
Amazing. It is a nice evening. I can see sunshine and blue skies. This afternoon my fingers were at the mauve end of the blue spectrum. After niceish weather on Saturday and Sunday in comparison with what we have been having in recent weeks, I foolishly left my gloves at home. Mistake.
NotCat might have been more than eager to get outside when I arrived home, I am only too happy to defrost indoors, wrapped up in a thick vaguely Icelandic cardigan. So it was quite funny to see that there is a new photo challenge today called blue.
I was going to make the switch to summer pyjamas tonight, but snuggly winter ones are far more appealing.
Anyway, two blue photos, though I am not sure I shall link them back to the challenge.
Garden Blue
Boat Blue
Mummy’s Boy
With all the excitement of being at the marina, going for a ride in the boat and seeing the birds, Z needed a cuddle under P’s jacket.
Don’t you just love the way you stumble across little bits of history that conjure up people and lives in places you know?
Just along the Albert Embankment, not far from Lambeth Palace, is White Hart Dock. before the embankment was built, it led directly to the Thames. Later, an underroad tunnel led to the river. It was a public dock that from the early nineteenth century was used by one of the great Lambeth potteries, Doulton. Doulton’s main factory was just round the corner on Black Prince Road. Edward the Black Prince died young. It was his death that precipitated the Wars of the Roses as Richard II’s ambitious uncles fought for power. The White Hart was Richard’s emblem.
Forgotten and neglected, White Hart Dock was just another overlooked part of London’s history. Then in 2009, refurbishment of White Hart Dock began as part of an ongoing public art project funded by Lambeth council.
Handspring Design, a small interdisciplinary practice in Sheffield, was chosen to produce artwork to celebrate the site.
The result was a series of arches, like the ribs of a boat, above the dock, and boat shaped street furniture on the Embankment.
Just perfect. Shame about the Coke can.
One of the drawbacks of being untechnically minded is that I am clueless when it comes to boat maintenance. I peer hopefully at the engine, check the oil and top up the diesel.
I have had the boat serviced by Someone Who Knows About Boats rather than try tinkering with anything myself, as I reckon I had better stick to doing what I know and pay him to do what he knows. I want the boat to go up to the boatyard soon for washing and painting, plus a few repairs. Before I left on Monday, I checked the oil only to find it horrible sludgy. Apparently this is due to condensation. Who knew? Certainly not I.
I also found what I fear may be a small leak. So that needs to go on the boatyard list. But my first problem is changing the oil. It sounds messy and as though I could do it all wrong. Cue sleepless night. Then some lovely people who own the same sort of boat as I do emailed me and told me it should be fairly easy. I had been in contact with them about ant-fouling and whether or not to do it, and in my last message told them of my new woes. I almost understand the instructions.
With a bit of luck, das Boot will finish the summer looking fine and dandy, and not like this sad abandoned boat.
Abandoned Boat
