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  1. 32 points
    I'd like to record how much I love this forum. Sadly my wife have become increasingly upset with the amount of time I spend posting here, and not paying attention to her and has issued an ultimatum. "It's me of the forum"! So sadly it's time for me to say farewell. I'll be back in a couple of hours when I've finished packing her things and driven her to her mothers. Don't do anything interesting without me.
  2. 28 points
    It's hard to believe that those halcyon days of endless summer spent on the Norfolk Broads are the best part of a lifetime ago. I sit in my armchair and gaze into the garden, rain making patterns on the French windows, grey clouds scurrying across the distant horizon. I have reached an age where I need a list to remind me to buy milk and bread when I go shopping. A small device in my pocket the likes of which once seemed beyond science fiction reminds me of the correct day to visit the Doctor and renew my various prescriptions and once in a while allows a family no longer nearby to check up on me. A call to see if it's worth spending a stamp on a Christmas Card or whether it's more prudent to invest in dry cleaning their funeral outfits. For all my great age and frailty I can still close my eyes and recall the names and faces of those days in Norfolk, recall them as if they were only yesterday. The man on the radio plays a tune, it's “Tracks Of My Years” time, I like that. It reminds me it's time to think about lunch. The intro sounds familiar and as the band begin playing I recognise the song we danced to so many times on those sultry evenings on Pakefield Beach, dancing, swimming and sitting around the driftwood fire, it's flames glowing blue green as the salt coloured them. They were carefree days, days of wonder and enlightenment. Everything was possible, everything an adventure, but I let that adventure die before I realised how magical it really was. Summer holidays were the one luxury our family enjoyed. Every year the money was scraped together somehow for our two weeks in Norfolk and Suffolk. Times were hard back then. We didn't think of ourselves as poor, in fact both my parents worked and we were better off than many in our local community but still there was “not much to spare” as my mother often said. She worked in the hosiery factory at the top of the street, my father was a carpenter. They paid the mortgage, sometimes with the aid of ten bob from a helpful grandparent, put food on the table and provided us with clothes, which sometimes fitted. We had no car, in fact in our whole street their was only one car, the scary man at the top of the road who worked at the bank. The street was for playing football and cricket, undisturbed by traffic. We did however have a television, and that too was one of very few in the street. Father's brother was a television engineer, remember them? Try explaining to the youth of today that when your TV broke down a man came and fixed it, or occasionally took it away in the back of his van if the repair was too involved, for it's return to be eagerly awaited like the delivery of a new baby in the family. Our TV was one which it's previous owner had given up having repaired but which Uncle Bill had pulled back from the brink of oblivion. It was black and white, of course, and it had buttons to switch between 405 and 625 lines depending on which channel you wanted to watch. There were three, can you imagine finding something worth watching with just three channels? To change the channel you had to twist the dial, little pieces of stamp paper marking the approximate location of each station. I was the remote control.... “lad, put BBC2 on” my father would say. During school holidays kids were left at home. That was the way. There would be somebody “on duty”, somewhere in the street. A non working mother maybe, or an older sibling. “If you need anything knock at Mrs Morris's” mum would say on her way out to work. I don't think it was ever said, but it was understood that you only disturbed mum at work if it was really serious. In truth we were not really “home alone” as we would be out playing all day. It seems almost unimaginable today, but kids played together outdoors back in those days. Half the things we got up to would probably have snowflakes from Social Services banging at the door nowadays. We climbed trees, built dens, made fires to bake potatoes on and if someone had got a ball we spent the afternoon in the park. Children of different ages played together, can you believe that, but there was a pecking order. The older kids decided what to do and the younger ones were allowed to tag along. Of course the school holiday we all awaited most eagerly was Summer. Nine weeks of freedom. Almost long enough to forget your teacher's name. Being factory workers my parents both had set holidays, when the works would stop and most of the county boarded a bus (our railway line having fallen victim to Dr. Beeching's axe) for Skegness. But for us, it was a car, hired, borrowed but never quite stolen and the A47 eastward East to Oulton Broad ……. to be continued …..
  3. 27 points
    Kenneth Grahame writes “Believe me, my young friend, there is nothing - absolutely nothing - half so much worth doing as simply messing about in boats.”. A little bit like the Mole, I ventured out of my hole and sniffed the late spring air. It had been a tough winter of coughs and agues, sneezes and diseases, wobbly legs, a jiggly hand and an errant and wayward cakehole. But spring was finally here and my white whiskers twitched with excitement at the prospect of adventures to come, for our granddaughter Gracie was making her first trip to the Norfolk Broads to meet Royal Tudor. Deciding who was the most excited about the impending trip to the Broads was going to be difficult. Gracie had packed her small suitcase the day we announced the trip. Walking Gracie to school became a chance to answer her questions about boats, boating and the rivers. 'Boat fever' was something I didn't mind catching in the least! How best to describe Grace? Six going on twenty-six. Bright as a button, very, very astute, long fair hair, tall and as limb-lithe as her name describes. Our walks to school were full of talk of ducks, otters, life-jackets, types of boats and pirates. 'There are no pirates Timbo, only those near Africa!'. There's no fooling Gracie! The day of departure finally arrived and after a fitful night's sleep, I of course overslept by half an hour, the day dawned bright and sunny. A quick coffee and after walking the beagles Ellie and I started to pack the QQ for the journey. Soon we were leaving 'Big G' three-quarters of an hour later than we intended with Gracie wedged in the back seat, the beagles in the boot and the QQ full to the gunwales with luggage and bits for the boat. We made our way via Doddington and Harmston to join the Sleaford roundabout. Just after the stretch of dual carriageway, Gracie was feeling travel sick. More I think due to Grandma asking if she was OK than actually feeling ill. So when I managed to find somewhere to pull over Gracie became my front seat navigator. I introduced her to the game of Pub and Church cricket. A game quite difficult to play since the demise of the public house. The rules are simple. Passengers take it in turn to 'bat'. A church with a square tower is '6 runs'. A pub name or it's sign provides additional runs to the number of 'legs' stated or depicted. So the Canary and Linnet pub provides four runs. The Carpenters Arms would have been no runs but the sign depicted two 'carpenters' holding up the arms so this was four runs. A church with a spire means that you are 'out' and the next passenger starts spotting to score. Due to the lack of pubs these days, windmills were substituted as three runs. Playing Pub and Church Cricket, Gracie reading the names of places on the Sat-Nav and handing out the mints, we were soon over Sutton Bridge and into Norfolk (According to Gracie the Bridge counted as fifty runs and brought her score to 367 not out). I stopped at the services at Swaffham, where Ellie realised what crap service we actually got from eateries at home. While Grace and Ellie went into McDonald's I sat outside with the dogs, the staff offering to bring my food outside while the ladies sat in comfort. Fed and watered we got underway again. As we drove along Gracie got more and more excited as I pointed out landmarks that were increasingly boat related. Down the new Broadland bypass, turn right for Wroxham and over the bridge and a 'wow' from Gracie as she saw the busy river and the boats. We stopped at Norfolk Marine to buy Gracie her life jacket. We were pleasantly surprised expecting a price tag of £50 plus to be asked for £25. While I waited with the 'beagle boys' Ellie and Gracie popped to Roy's for some last minute shopping. “They should call it rob-dog Roy's” Grace announced upon her return to the car clutching a new 'word search' puzzle book. “It's ever so expensive!” there's still no fooling Gracie. On our way again and we finally arrived at Stalham. Gracie was incredibly excited. The first job at the wet shed was to take the 'boys' for a well-earned wee. So Ellie, Gracie and I walked down the footpath behind the sheds while the boys stretched their legs. Back at the wet shed, I stopped by the two wrecked day launches parked on barrels outside. Gracie's face was a picture when she thought fleetingly that one of them was Royal Tudor. Just inside the shed, Dave (Janet Anne) was varnishing Uncle Mike's boat Chameleon. We made our way around the jetty until we, at last, reached Royal Tudor. Gracie was full of gasps and wonder and finally delight. It was love at first sight! While Ellie and Grace pottered around exploring RT, putting away the groceries and starting to clean, Dave and I did some catching up and waited for the chance to sort out the stern gland grease. We found this had already been done so Grace and I made a run to Tesco for last minute bits too expensive in Roy's, like beer, wine and batteries for Gracie's night light. In Tesco, Gracie looked thoughtful. “No, he's not a pirate.” “Who?” I asked her. “Dave. He might look like a pirate, but he's too nice to be a pirate. Besides, he doesn't have a wooden leg or a parrot!” “Ah!” Did I mention there's no fooling Gracie? At last with Royal Tudor fully provisioned and with the day waning rapidly, I made final preparations to get underway. By this time I was getting quite rushed, hot and bothered. I dropped RT's cockpit, took away her connection to shore power, started her engine, let loose the warps and we nosed out of the shed! Flags flying we made our way out onto the river and Gracie was elated! It wasn't long before she was acting as 'lookout' spotting birds and boats. As the river widened Gracie was even more amazed. “It's the first time I've ever been on a boat on a big river!” Gracie exclaimed. I was waiting for the look on her face when we reached the expanse of Barton Broad. As we made our way out onto the broad Gracie gasped. Both Barton Broad and Gracie's face were shimmering in the evening sunshine. What a glorious, glorious sight to see! “Believe me, my young friend, there is nothing - absolutely nothing - half so much worth doing as simply messing about in boats.”. Part Two soon!
  4. 26 points
    those who were at the wooden boat show this year may remember the auction for the artwork,framed, of the poster of the show, having been outbid i asked the artist (member victory v)to do a painting of my boat for a donation to his charity.collected it today and even found time to spend money in THE ORIGINAL BAKEWELL PUDDING SHOP WELL IMPRESSED thanks david even visited a proper national park
  5. 24 points
    Travelling any distance took planning. It wasn't like it is now. I can get in my car today and be anywhere on the Broads in around three hours and a single tank of fuel completes the 360 mile round trip twice. If I don't have enough fuel I'll pass at least six filling stations in the first ten miles or so from home. In the early 70's we didn't pass that many garages on the whole journey, and they opened “office” hours. Saturday morning if you were lucky, never on a Sunday. A full tank would just get us to Oulton Broad with enough leeway. Three hours was a pipe dream, the journey took six on a good day, on a bad one it could take eight. There were no “improvements” on the A47 in those days. No dual carriageways, no crawler lanes, no straightened sections. The climb up Rutland's Wardley Hill could be murderous. Lorries laden with coal and gravel from the mines and quarries of Leicestershire could make no more than walking pace up the narrow, serpentine three mile ascent. The road passed through every town and village on the route, bypass was a word still alien to our language. Every village had it's crossroads, towns had traffic lights. Travelling was stop start, stop start. There were motorways, the M1 had opened some years earlier but mother would never use it and no motorway went anywhere near Norfolk. At least some things never change. For us, the adventure began on Friday afternoon. It was straight home from school and into the back of the car. The first car I remember was a brand new Ford Escort 1100L 2 door saloon, hired from our local Ford dealership and nicknamed “Silver Fox” after it's paint colour. Two adults in the front, three kids in the back and a rather portly and often flatulent dog in the back window. A boot full of everything but the kitchen sink and a roof rack on top with father's vast array of fishing tackle. All that and the grand total of 40 horsepower. Even when you found a bit of “open road” progress was never rapid. I often wondered if mother, who was the driver in our family, father never learned, was grateful to those lorries on Wardley Hill as I doubt we could have gone much quicker if they were not there! The first point of note on the journey, for me at least was Peterborough. Dad's parents came from Rutland and he had family across the county and through Northamptonshire and so we visited those places quite regularly. Mum would borrow her sister's Mk I Cortina to take dad fishing with a visit to his parents afterwards. Many a Saturday afternoon was spent at the tea table in Nana's dining room watching the Wrestling on World Of Sport on their second, yes second TV. The one in the lounge was even colour! Peterborough was different though. We never came this far other than this one time each year when we were going on holiday. This was the start of foreign territory. Exotic began here. The next place of interest was the small village of Thorney and fish and chips for supper. Well a bag of chips between the three of us kids anyway, I told you times were hard. A bottle of Corona Limeade washed them down, that being dad's favourite. We would wait until the pop was gone so dad could return the bottle and get the thruppence back on the empty before resuming our travels eastward. The reason for our Friday departure was the content of the roof rack, the fishing tackle. Dad would never pass a river, lake, pond or even muddy ditch without wondering what he could catch from it. He was a keen angler, more than keen even. He was an international match angler, fishing alongside the likes of Ivan Marks and Roy Marlow in an era when the top anglers didn't need make up, lights or sound engineers. One of the many clubs or associations he belonged to held fishing rights on the Rivers Welland and Great Ouse and the drains of the Middle Level so once we reached Wisbech we turned off the A47 and followed the A1101 through the pretty village of Outwell and to our destination for the night, Salter's Lode. Dad's aim was always to be set up and ready to fish before darkness fell and would fish through the night with the aid of his faithful “tilley” lamp. I was a great disappointment to my father. After two daughters he was delighted to finally have a son to share his passion for fishing and shooting but that wasn't the way I was wired. He would drag me along the bank and show me how he was setting up, how he was going to fish and what, hopefully, he was going to catch. I watched with feigned interest but mercifully was considered too young to spend all night on the river bank and so for me it was back to the car to bed down for what sleep we might manage. Mother would have the thermos out and tea made, all the good things in life seemed to be accompanied by a thermos flask. Meanwhile my sisters would walk the dog along the riverbank allowing for his night time ablutions. And so to “bed” dear reader. My eldest sister would claim the passenger seat due to the hierarchy of age leaving me and “middle sister” to fight over the rear bench seat. We always had pillows and blankets in the car so we could get reasonably comfortable. We watched the deepening black of the sky as sleep came slowly to us. And then the dog farted.
  6. 23 points
    Hi All As a new year's gift I just thought I'd share my Webcam online initally as a trial but if it goes OK I'll leave it there. The Webcam is in Brundall over looking the Yare towards Brooms and I though there is a lack of them on this river. It's not that clear at night but OK in daylight. I may in the future set a movement schedule up as it is PTZ. I hope you enjoy and feel free to share. BTW my website is and always will be free and advertising free even though there is a personal cost to me. Let me know your thoughts. http://catchpro.co.uk/Webcam Cheers Simon
  7. 23 points
    Now look here! I can see us getting into a lot of trouble over this topic, especially as we know Timbo is watching! I think we should agree without further ado, that it is NOT a Great Estuary. But it may be considered, for marketing purposes, as a member of the Estuary Family.
  8. 22 points
    I'm basing my comments on one of my final surveys and reports of 2018 before I officially retired. Over the thirty odd years of my career working in antiquary and landscape management, I have seen quite a dramatic change in visitor behaviour and the marketing techniques that need to be employed in order to successfully exploit that behaviour for the benefit of the landscape and stakeholders. Be under no illusions, the visitor centre is dead in regards of examples such as the scheme proposed at Acle. It's not resting or pining. It is no more, it has kicked the bucket, dropped off it's perch and joined the choir invisible. In terms of visitor numbers Scotland is leading the charge easily outpacing England in visitor growth for the past seven years according to the most recent figures from the ONS. However, in their last published figures Visit Scotland have announced a 58% drop in footfall through their visitor centres over the past ten years. Consequently they closed 39 of their 56 visitor centres and reduced and streamlined services in the remainder. The stock in trade of the visitor centre, books, maps and guides, in the past was in short supply. Today the visitor can find detailed information within seconds without ever having set foot inside a visitor centre. The fundamental change in visitor behaviour is that the visitor centre was a 'must visit' as soon as they arrived at a destination. Today, if they come across a visitor centre then they might pop in. If it's raining. Or they can't get a coffee anywhere else. The Glover Report has one great flaw, among many, in compounding the outdated marketing strategies employed by National Parks, AOB's and many of the conservation organisations. The 'build it and they will come' schemes, and don't get me started on re-branding, are thirty years past their sell by date and other than waste money in short supply only emphasise an ageing management who I'm sure hold Michael J Fox and Melanie Griffith themed office parties to give their shoulder pads an airing. I'm sorry but best practise dictates satisfying visitor and stakeholder needs and providing value while maintaining the integrity of the landscape identity. At the most basic of levels the object of marketing for landscape managers is the dispersal of visitors out into the landscape. A visitor centre is an impediment to this fundamental process. Tourists sat in a visitor centre are not enjoying the Broadland landscape and more importantly they are not spending money with business stakeholders. You don't bring the visitor to the visitor centre you take the visitor centre to the visitor. By that I mean the front line of Broads Rangers face to face with stakeholders and people like Tom. I have to say that I really appreciate Tom's contribution which I think is an outstanding example of best practise...in practise, as it were and long may it continue!
  9. 21 points
    Reading this thread really does get me down. I love the broads, the boats, the people, the area and most importantly those who wish to discuss or post photos or videos I subscribe to a number of forums, Facebook groups, websites and YouTube channels run by Captains, Admirals and Whitworths! I do it because it keeps me close to the place I love. I used to post regularly to what some call "the other forum" but stopped because it became nothing more than a site full of the same people bickering and regurgitating the same arguments until people sided with them or turned off. I turned off myself and stayed away from forums dropping into this one to read up on items of interest, and more recently dipping my toe in to add the odd comment again, but I now see this also going the same way with bickering being the norm and turning the likes of me away from what should be a site full of interesting articles, adventures and opinion. I therefore welcome moderators, administrators or whoever trying to take the forum back to some semblance of order before it's too late and it becomes a forum only used by a small group of members bickering with each other, oblivious to the world around them. This is my final comment on this particular thread and look forward to reading and adding value to many more threads in the future.
  10. 21 points
    I'm not talking about them falling over...you know who I'm looking at over my glasses ... I've just spent an afternoon at my day job advising a landscape management authority on the content on their tourist information boards. The authority involved had received quite a lot of negative comment from visitors and stakeholders about the information contained on these notices. The main complaint can be characterised in one comment. "I wanted to know about the history of the location but the only information available was about non-descript brown birds which we could not see." This instantly struck a chord with me. I recently brought RT back to the Northern Broads and moored up for the night at the Tea Gardens. "I wonder why they are called the Tea Gardens?" asked Alli who had been volunteered as crew. "I don't know. There's a tourist information board over there, let's go find out!" I replied. We sauntered over to find a a board full of information about non-descript brown birds which were hiding and not visible at the location at that time of year at that time of day and nothing about the history of the location. As part of the meeting today I was confronted with a blinkered wildlife organisation also attending the meeting while we were on a site visit. "There's no history here, the wildlife is the important thing that we need to get visitors to appreciate!" said the wildlife bod. While we walked along the path we were caught up by a group of American Tourists. As we walked along I picked up shards of Roman pottery, a whet stone, several neolithic pot boilers and an Elizabethan silver penny from the plough soil by the headland. The tourists were fascinated and asked so many questions I went into 'tour guide mode'. I pointed out the remains of the abandoned medieval village. We spoke about the plague, agricultural revolution, I gave them directions to the next village along which was the former home of one of the Pilgrim Father's which was one of the reasons they were visiting the area. The tourists moved on leaving me £60 in tips which I donated to the management authority as my contribution to their new 'inclusive' tourist information boards. The rambling point I'm getting to, is that the information boards around the Broads are in a similar state. Other than at specific recognised historic locations such as St Bennets or Potter Bridge, there is little or no information included on signage for the tourist interested in things other than non descript brown birds. Norfolk is a landscape shaped by man. It's a landscape so drenched in history you couldn't swing a duck, if you can find one, without hitting archaeology. So please, could we start to have signage which is inclusive of all interests? Rant over, I'm now off to report my finds to the county archaeologist and finish this article on 18th Century perfumers.
  11. 21 points
    I was reminded by Facebook of a memories picture. Please see the picture of Tan & I sat on the upper helm of Ranworth Breeze with the canopy down. A happy time aboard the boat and being together. Regards Alan
  12. 21 points
    False dawn, buy me a beer and I will tell all, is an odd phenomenon. It was just starting to break as I awoke at 5:00 am firm in the knowledge I was being observed. A slight thump of beagle tail indicated 'the boys' were aware I was only pretending to sleep. I opened my eyes to find two beagle noses inches from my face. Out of bed, put the kettle on to boil while 'the boys' abandon ship for the bank. With Italian coffee steaming in my mug, wash kit and towel under my arm I head for the shower block. Like many men of my generation I started shaving during the disposable razor revolution. While others moved on to either an electric razor or the double, then triple, quadruple and now quintuple with battery powered jiggle, wet razor, I didn't. For practical reasons of shaving in the field I learned to use a safety razor as you can get blades almost anywhere and they cost pennies. Together with a badger hair brush and shaving soap I still use it as a challenge to keep my hand steady after my strokes. It's also a closer shave with less skin irritation than modern razors. Shaving is not a chore for me. Which is fortunate as my beard grows quickly. A shave in the morning and I will need another if we are going out in the evening. I look forward to the ritual immensely. Twenty minutes of pure self indulgence. Of course, my choice of fragrance post shave is also an indulgence. Today was Royal Water from the house of Creed. Citrus and mint in the top notes, juniper and basil in the heart notes and musk and ambergris in the base. So, lemon, mint, gin, pesto, deer butt and whale poop. Exquisite! At five past six I take the boys for their jaunt around the footpath marking the edge of what once was Sutton marsh and Broad. A loud twittering of small birds alert me to the proximity of an owl. Sure enough, sat in the branches of an oak sits a Barn Owl. In the field to my right comes the dull thud of hooves from Long Horn Cattle and in amongst them Muntjac Deer. Back at the boat and Grandma and Gracie were fast asleep, so I put the kettle back on, made another coffee, took my tablets and gave Dylan his and set about putting my bed away. The ladies were soon up and about and while Grandma fried bacon for breakfast, I was treated to 'Gracie kisses and cuddles'. Breakfast over and the girls made themselves even more beautiful. Did you see what I did there? Since I bought a boat, I have seen more of The Broads away from the water than I ever did in the forty years prior. “Do you know where you are going?” asked Ellie from the back seat. I didn't reply. After seventeen years Ellie still cannot appreciate the correlation between my love of cartography and landscape and knowing where I am. “Does he know where he is Grandma?” asked Gracie. “Is this Horning then?” asked Ellie as I pulled into the car park by The Swan. “No, it's Cleethorpes.” I muttered realising too late that I'd made an error. “Have we come to Cleethorpes for doughnuts and fish and chips?” asked Gracie the expert on 'seasides'. The reason for our trip to Horning was postcards. Ellie is a traditional holidaymaker in that the first thing she will do on holiday is buy postcards, write them and post them. In this age of technology when people post pictures of every meal and drink consumed to Facebook, postcards are a thing of the past. The postcards we could find were old, dusty and sun bleached. Grace found the whole concept of the postcard fascinating. “This actual card, with my writing, will go to Daddy?” So we bought postcards to send to Mummy, Daddy, baby Arlo, Nanny and Granddad (I'm Timbo as we have a surplus of Granddads and Great Granddads), Uncle Matty, Gracie's best friend Lola and we bought another card for Gracie to send to herself at home. Gracie needed to make sure that postcards really did work and why should she miss out on the honour of receiving one? Ellie also bought Gracie a fishing rod. A pink, toy, fishing rod which I was supposed to teach her to fish with. I shot Ellie 'the look' I usually reserve for politicians and modern art. It's a look perfected by bespectacled lecturers in universities with high entry standards yet forced to accept the idiot offspring of the wealthy for a fee. “I'm going to need some other bits and pieces.” “It's got everything in there you need!” said Ellie the fishing expert. “If I was targeting Tiger Sharks with a toy pink fishing rod, yes, this has everything that I would need.” “The chap was very helpful, and gave me all the information. He said you can use corn for bait.” “Did he mention needing a rod license? No?” Fortunately I carry my rod license in my wallet. But the damage was done. Gracie had her pink fishing rod and a kids fishing net. She loved them and I was going to have to try and catch a fish with them. So, a quick trip to Lathems and I bought a packet of hooks to nylon and a disgorger. My fishing tackle was something that Ellie had forbidden me to bring with us. Back to RT for an early lunch and then Gracie wanted to go fishing. I put the pink 'cute' fishing rod together. It reminded me of a much thinner version of my Grandfather's home made spinning rod I inherrited, made from a tank antenna that is definitely not painted pink. Two uniform lengths of 6 mm diameter metal tube with ferrules in the middle, one eye ring on the tip and one by the cork grip and about three feet in length. The reel looked like an open faced reel, but plastic throughout and loaded with 10 lb line. The float was a solid lump of plastic, the hooks were size 4's and there was a swivel that didn't swivel. This was going to take a bit of thought. So while Ellie put the kettle on, I took the dogs for a walk and had a bit of a forage at the waters edge and found the straight and dry sections of reed I was looking for. Back on RT I drank my cup of tea and had a rummage in my tool bag. I came up with a roll of solder, some red and yellow electrical tape, some Gaffa Tape, a large rubber band and some Milliput. Time to rig the rod. I used the Gaffa tape to secure the reel to the rod firmly as the reel seat was flimsy to say the least. A piece of reed would be our float. I'd wound the solder around the bottom of the reed to make it self cocking. I cut small pieces from the rubber band and put a small hole in each one to make float rubbers to attach the float. I topped the float off with a strip of red tape and a thin bit of yellow tape to make it look the part. I mixed up some Milliput and used tiny pieces down the line as droppers and a little bit bigger piece to nail the bait to the bottom. Finally a size 18 hook nicked through the skin of a kernel of sweetcorn as bait. A couple of test casts and we were in business. “Why is that man laughing at us?” Gracie asked. “Ignore him sweetie, now trap the line with your finger like a gun, swing, flick, finger off, put your bail arm back on, perfect!” Gracie picked casting up very quickly. Very quickly indeed. "Now dress your line, give the rod a tiny flick so the line sinks out of the wind, wind a little bit...that's fantastic!" “Can I do it again?” “Just once more, but remember the fish are in the water not in the air!” I said, sounding like Uncle Albert when he was teaching me to fish. It's funny how you slip back into your childhood memories and the lessons you learned. I can still hear Uncle Albert's litany even now. 'Keep your feet still, don't cast so far, if there's fish on the other side there's fish on this side, keep your feet still'. “That man is still laughing at me!” said Gracie. “Just ignore him and watch your float!” To be honest, the pillock fishing from the hire boat was starting to get on my nerves. His initial quips about me sitting on the back of the boat holding my pink rod in my hand had evoked a slight chuckle. Twenty minutes constant repetition to anyone who would listen was annoying, not to mention the litany of criticism of where and how I was fishing and the 'gear' we were using. We were fishing around five feet away from RT's transom and around four feet from the bank. I was getting Gracie to drop two or three kernels of sweetcorn around our float every five minutes or so. I'd also mushed up some sweetcorn, crushed up four or five of Dylan and Toby's dog biscuits to powder and mixed mixed it all with a little bit of sugar. The resulting 'groundbait' was dropped in pea sized blobs in between Gracie's sweetcorn 'free offerings'. “Little and often.” I was telling Gracie as the expert across the way tackled up his rods. I find float fishing exciting as you watch the little dabs, nips, bobs and swirls the float makes as fish are feeding. I interpreted the movements for Gracie who was mesmerised and extremely excited by it all. Our reed float bobbed. “Wait for it! The fish is just nibbling.” The float bobbed once more before making a pirouette. “Wait for it! The fish is just nibbling and nosing the corn.” Then it lifted... “Ooh, the fish has picked up the corn. Any second it will move.” ...before sliding clean under the water. “Now!” I lifted the rod and connected with the fish. I put my arms around Gracie so she could hold the rod too. The small pink fishing rod arced right over but took the strain. The rhythmic thrum to the line told me it was a bream. “Gently, gently, don't jerk or pull the rod.” I cautioned Gracie. I had to keep a firm hand on the rod along with Gracie's. The light tackle made it all the more exciting. “Slowly, watch him come up, give him a breath of air, and he's ready to come and see you!” “Grandma just look!” gasped Gracie. “I think we are going to need your net Grace!” I said. Gracie scampered off to retrieve her kids fishing net which, fortunately, was quite well made. I guided the skimmer over the lip of the net then bent to wet my hands in the water. I brought the fish in and unhooked it. “Ew! What's with all the snot Timbo?” asked Gracie. I knew there was no way Grace would be holding the fish as I explained what bream slime was for. Grandma was ready to take a quick snap of Grace and her fish 'Slimey' and the little bream was put quickly gently back into the water. There was time for another skimmer and a roach, each given a name 'Slimon' and 'Bob', before it started to rain. “Am I good at fishing Timbo?” asked Gracie. “Yes you are sweetie!” I replied. I took great pleasure in explaining a Yorkshire angling term to Gracie with plenty of volume so all could hear, especially our angling neighbour who had caught nothing. “We weren't 'water-licked' !”(pronounced watta-licked) “What's watta-licked?” asked Gracie. “It's where you go fishing and catch nothing because the water beat you!”
  13. 21 points
    Because it is not an opinion. Being a member of the Liberal Party or reading the Guardian is a choice. Being GAY is not, believe me I know and yes I have been verbally abused for being Gay whist on the Broads while eating at a restaurant in Wroxham. I'm sorry but some of the comments in the thread I find personally offensive, mainly stated out ignorance but if you have been called names in the street or spent a night in hospital due to GAY bashing as I have done you may see the World we live in, in a different light. Anyway cheers from my Civil partner, soulmate, lover and I! Fred
  14. 21 points
    So here we are again. Back aboard Swan Reflection 1. I’m posting from my phone courtesy of Richardson’s on board wi-fi so these posts may be brief! Good journey up from Essex. Nice lunch in Bridgestone’s Tea Rooms in Potter Heigham. Very good handover from a nice polite young man and out of the yard by 2. Very quiet cruise down to How Hill. Turned around and went back to moor at Irstead. Hurray! Finally I have managed to get on the staithe here! Took a walk to look round the church then on to the Boardwalk for a lovely peaceful look at Barton Broad. Beautiful even on a grey day. Now back on board with the heating on having a very quiet evening.
  15. 20 points
    Sometimes I would like to say that 'words fails me'. Those that know me will be certain that the occasion I was left bereft of words would never arise. But yesterday the words just would not work! Sauntering through the woods yesterday morning with the Beagle Brothers and Spot the collie we happened upon a woman in distress. Sobbing her heart out she was, while trying to pick up her rather large but skinny mongrel and carry it down the path. "Do you need help?" I asked a bit concerned. "I've got to get Mr Buttons to the doggie hospital it's an emergency!" I looked at Mr Buttons who gave a nervous wag of the tail as if to say 'I didn't have a say in the matter' and struggled to escape the grip of HER mistress. "What's the problem? She seems OK?" I asked as Mr B wriggled free, landed on the ground and instantly tried to initiate a game of chase with Dylan and Toby. "Mr Buttons ate a dead bird!" "I wouldn't panic, she seems OK. Dylan there was chomping on a dead seagull the other week!" "But Mr Buttons is a vegan just like me!" wailed the woman. The words just would not come. I rounded up the beagles and scarpered.
  16. 20 points
    Let's start a thread about all the wonderful things the Broads has to offer, the happy times we've all experienced, the help and support we all offer each other because we have the Broads and boating in our blood, two things we all definitely have in common Romantic times like when Jay and I sat on the bow of the boat late at night cuddled under a duvet having a glass of wine, watching the stars and listening to the water The helpful people like my Dad who once helped an elderly couple (novices) who were terrified, he climbed aboard with permission and took them back to the boat yard for extra tuition. I'm sure we've all helped someone out at some point or been on the receiving end of a helpful hand It's not all crashes, bumps and drunks Don't forget all the friendly waves as boats pass each other whether private, hire or even one of those ruddy flappy things The gorgeous pubs you can visit along the way for a few drinks or a bite to eat and not forgetting the absolutely beautiful scenery along the way too. It's summer time, here's to happy boating everyone Jay and I are kayaking soon, god help the lot of you Grace
  17. 19 points
    I would like to take this opportunity to thank everyone for their contributions to the Norfolk Broads Network this year. Our sponsors for helping to keep the lights on. The management team for making sure the bills get paid and I'm behaving myself, the technical team for making sure that everything is running smoothly, the moderation team for keeping all of us on our toes and behaving ourselves. Last, but certainly not least, each and every member that posts, reads and enjoys the forums, meetings, get-together's and work parties, it just wouldn't be worthwhile without you! I wish each and every one of you a happy, peaceful and prosperous new year and I hope to see you out on the water to make more fabulous memories very, very, soon. Timbo, Ellie, Gracie, and 'the boys'!
  18. 19 points
  19. 19 points
    An NBN Christmas Carol Grendel Scroogeloder head modelrater sat all two-square on the botty by the flickery light of a candlopper, all scowlage on the facebole and grumpymost there. In a far corm of the NBN modelrater's orifice, shivery and cloudymost of the breathloder, Maxwellian Scratchit sat doing summage while around him readling postits were the modelrators all scribbly with a quill-pen in the gloomy. “I suppole you expeckly day off tomorrole?” said Grendel Scroogeloder to the modelraters. ““Well it is Chrimbole Sir” says Maxwellian Scratchit, all mumbly and averty eye contacker. ““Chrimbole? Humbugly!” said Grendel Scroogeloder. That evelyn, Grendel Scroogeloder trickly-how down the garbage path all fumbly for the house key, when the dorm-knocky transforl into a distorty fizzog. Grendel Scroogeloder rubbage of the eyebold all disbelievey. “Humbugly!” he scrile and rushit inside. Later, all sittage by the fireloder making modley of Pottley Higham Fridge from toenail clippage and ear waxage, Grendel Scroogeloder twitchy of the eardrobes at the clankage and rumbly of iron chains all draggit along the floor-boarms. A translucel apparishy appeared all moany and frightfole, wavey chains all rustly in a menacey manner. “ Grendel Scroogeloder I am Jabsco Marlers all hauntage and warny about throo spectroles planning a visit afore mordy” “Jabsco Marlers? But I saw your deceasy corpse all stuffit in the sarcophagole and ashey to ashey amen!” said Grendel Scroogeloder all quakey in the boots and widely eyebold. “Indeel, but because of greedymost life and lack of compashy for the fellow human specie, I am condemned to trickly-how in the gloomage all chain-rattly and ‘wooOOooo’, instead of all restage on a celestibole cloudy . Folly folly.” said Jabsco Marlers waggit fingerlopper at Grendel Scroogeloder. ““Bah humbugly to Ghostloppers! Must have had too many tilty-elbows!” said Grendel Scroogeloder and falolloped up the stairloder and climbage into the four-posty bedlopper. In the middly of the nightloder, anothy ghostlopper materialisey by the four-posty bedlopper and tappage on the noggin laid on the pillop. “Grendel Scroogeloder. I am the spirry of Chrimbole passit!” The spirry grabbed Grendel Scroogeloder by the handlopper and transporty over roof and housage, all pointy down at scenes of a young Grendel all smileage and chirpymost with hair on his noggin! At a Chrimbole party for the Viking Reinactole, youthfole Grendel Scroogeloder twirly on the dance florm, all wasp-waist and swivel-hippy and show a pretty girm his big chopper and moo walk. Deep joy! “Grendel Scroogeloder!” said the apparishy. “Remembole being all chirpymost and back-slappy with joie-de-vivre and skiply step?” “Folly folly! That was years ago before life all disappoil and miserabole and NBN peeploders postit argumenty with cabin feverly in winterage needy modelrating!” scrile Grendel Scroogeloder. Whoosh! With much use of cheap speshy effectloppers Grendel Scroogeloder fallalloped back on four-posty bed all aquivile! At half-past throo in the mordy, Grendel Scroogeloder awakey to a boomly voice all Brial Blessed and loud in the eardrobes there. “Grendel Scroogeloder! I am the spirry of Chrimbole present. Falollow me!” In an insty, Grendel Scroogeloder peery through the gloom and saw the insile of Maxwellian Scratchit's house. The furnishy all worn and creakymost and nothing like IKEA. Oh no! A familode all sitly round the table with knifely fork all ready for the Chrimbole feast. “Oh folly folly” says Mrs Scractchit. “A measlymost meal for Chrimbold, with no Iceland prawnly-ringloder or Markly-Spencer classymost dineage. And tinily Timbo will be disappoil that Santy Cloppers has brought only a brokel dinky car with one wheeloder; no Nintender or X-Bocker. Oh folly indeel!” Maxwellian Scratchit looks all lovey dovey at Mrs Scrtachit. “But we all togethey, and Chrimbold is not about indulgey food or expensy toys. Oh no!Chrimbold is a celebrashy of the deep joy of friend and familode. Now fetch tinily Timbo and take the Potly Noodle from the microwaveley. Deep joy!” Tinily Timbo clump into the room all wobbly on the walky stick all grinnage with not a tooth in his facebole there. “Blessage, everybole!” sprayed Tinily Timbo. Whoosh! Grendel Scroogeloder once agail transporty to the clammy bed sheets and lie there all shakey in the bones. So frightly of another ghostloder, he tried to avoil sleepage - he watched old episoles of QI and Toply Gearloppers on Dave, but eventuole, his eyebolds all closey. Grendel Scroogeloder was awakely by a mustymost smell all sniff sniff in the nostrales, and a low, moanage sound like Fiona Brice radly news. “Who are you apparishy? Announcely self! Are you the spirry of Chrimbole yet to happel?” A sinistel figure nodly head in a spookilymost cowl and pointed with skeletal fingerdrobes and transported Grendel Scroogeloder to a churchyardy. A gravestole, all covery with snowl stood all depressy in the cemetale. All engravey on the gravestole there was 'Grendel Scroogeloder'! Smoke then all whirly like NBN Chairman chain-smokely, and Grendel Scroogeloder was gazey at the Scratchit's empty room, with Tinily Timbo’s walkly stick all abandony there. “Oh deepest folly! Poor Tinily Timbo! What miserybold git I’ve beel. Folly folly!” shouty Grendel Scroogeloder. In the mordy, Scroogeloder awakely with droply sweat on the fore-noggin and with trepidashy, trickly-how to open the curtey. Outsile, snow had falolloped over streel and pavey, all brightly sparklage and cheerfole there. Snowflakers trickly-how onto treel and shrubby like diamols and glitter at an X-Factol final. Scroogeloder all dancely and skippety-hop with deep deep joy. Openy windole, he shouty at a small boyl all skiddy-skateage down the roam there. “What is todale, boy?” “Why it’s Chrimbold, Mr Scroogelopper!” Grendel Scroogeloder threw down his creddy carm to the boyl. “Trickly-how to Morrisoles and buy the giantymost Turkley, and delivery to Maxwellian Scratchit. The PIN is throo-seps-throo-fido.” “Immedially Mr Scroogeloder!” said the boyl. “And buyly self a MacDonal Sausy MacMuffer!” “Ooh gratifole!”, and the boyl falolopped down the streel to the offy to buy bottle of voddy and twenty Bensoles. Grendel Scroogeloder lean out of the windole and shouty to everybole. “Merry Chrimbold! Deep, deep joy!”
  20. 19 points
    hi, finally managed to buy the boat my wife fell in love with, at last we are back on the water, lovely mooring at Acle all sorted, thanks to everyone who's advice i duly ignored, thanks anyway. its 32 feet long 12'3" wide single volvo penta diesel (2.0 litre austin montego engine) or perkins prima. we love it!!
  21. 18 points
    I would like to say a big thank you to Old Berkshire Boy who, after reading my thread about my torn cover, very kindly offered to nip round and do a temporary repair on it. Apart from a pint in the Yare next I'm over, I've been motivated to chuck some brass in the NBN Poorbox. Thanks Kev, you're a star.
  22. 18 points
    I think perhaps I ought to explain myself, as I would certainly not wish to cause any mis-understanding. As this thread is already in the new Speakers' Corner, maybe I can have my say here, without falling foul of a moderator. I was not just reacting to a small post which "had a smiley face attached" but also to a PM which followed it up. That did not have a smiley attached. I do not feel "hounded out" by a few people who have been expressing strong views, as I welcome those views! They come from those of us who are concerned for the future of the Broads as we have known them all our lives. I don't "bash the BA" for the sake of it and I am sure the "usual suspects" don't either but we will surely identify and point up those areas where we feel the BA are not acting in the best interests of the Broads as we love them. And we will back up these opinions with fact and experience. This is our right of free expression and this forum is one of the only places left where we can still hold an un-elected quango to account. I speak as an ex member of the management of the Broads Society in the days when it was a voice of public opinion and influence on the Broads. Sadly that has just become a "damp squib" these days and I don't want the same thing to happen here. There are several threads here, where we can all have fun, talk of our holiday tales and have to guess which pub the photo of a beer was taken in. Please, I don't disparage that for a moment! Indeed I have often posted my idea of where the pub was and always got it wrong! But surely, this is just the "gravy" on the Sunday lunch? The real "meat and veg" of the forum should be much more than that! I have spent the last week reading the forum without logging on, so I have been a "guest". I have been reading back on posts in "Broads chat" over the last few years, which are all there for anyone to read and they are a fascinating library of experience, knowledge, history, technology and most important - considered opinion. Just look at this thread, about Acle road signs! It has so far been viewed by 17,490 people since it started only 4 weeks ago. You can bet your boots that those are not all "members only"! As to members' behaviour in discussion - this is social media for Goodness' sake! "Stuff happens"! When people are giving personal opinions about a subject which is dear to them, there are going to be a few rough edges. Surely we are all grown up enough to realise that? I would have thought this forum is an excellent example of comportment. At least compared to its own facebook page which is, bizarrely, supervised by the same moderators! My adverse reaction is not sudden. It has come about over several weeks and months where I have become ever more frustrated that every time we "get our teeth" into a subject which is important for all who want a good future for the Broads, it is shut off by a style of moderation which has become too risk averse. Please, moderators, don't be so frightened of honestly expressed opinion, especially when it is backed up by documented fact. If not, as some have suggested, the forum will stagnate, as others have before it. Paladin, who is an expert on the subject, has already agreed with me that you are not committing libel if you are telling the truth. That is the meaning of the law. Meantime, I have found that I am rather annoyed by it and there is no fun in that. So I will join ChrisB and one or two others (who I notice by their absence) and take a bit of a holiday. And while we are talking of posts with smileys attached, I will leave you with this one. Perhaps we should reflect on it.
  23. 18 points
    Have you ever thought: “I’m fat.” “I’m old.” “I’m not enough.” I was young once. To all my friends from 40 years and up: Most of us are going through the next phase of our lives. We're at that age where we see wrinkles, gray hair, and extra pounds. We see the cute 25-year-olds and reminisce. But we were also 25, just as they will one day be our age. We aren't the "youth in their summer clothes" anymore. What they bring to the table with their youth and zest, we bring our wisdom and experience. We have raised families, run households, paid the bills, dealt with diseases, sadness, and everything else life has assigned us. Some of us have lost those that were nearest and dearest to us. We are survivors. We are warriors in the quiet. We are humans, like a classic car or a fine wine. Even if our bodies aren't what they once were, they carry our souls, our courage, and our strength. We shall all enter this chapter of our lives with humility, grace, and pride over everything we have been through, and we should never feel bad about getting older. It's a privilege that is denied to so many.” (Mums funeral tomorrow) Griff
  24. 18 points
    Hi everyone, I am pleased to provide you all with some information below. I should caveat this by saying I've got a few areas of expertise in my life however boat engines unfortunately isn't one of them. Please forgive me if any of the below doesn't make perfect sense as I've re-written some information from one of my colleagues in the CME team. So, onto Spirit of Breydon... The original engine was a Nanni N6 320hp. This was fitted by Goodchild's to their original specs and we were reliably informed that although engines (and vessels) of this type are generally more suited to periods of operating at high speed (e.g. offshore fishing, surveying and diving) the engine should have worked satisfactorily for our purposes at Breydon Water (predominantly using at relatively low revs) due to the electronic fuel injection system. Unfortunately, this was not the case in reality and she required a new engine unit replaced under warranty within the first year due to a failure in the machining of the main block, turbo issues and electric loom issues. There were also other reliability issues following the replacement, leading to downtime. The problem of downtime was unfortunately exacerbated by the unforeseeable breakdown (no pun intended) of the working relationship between Nanni and VM motors who are a supplier who produce the engine units. This made spare parts more difficult and slower to acquire. Earlier this year we did have Spirit of Breydon, in a fully functioning condition, listed for sale with a local brokerage (who shouldn't still be displaying a poster!). However, no suitable offers were received and so the decision was made to work with what we already have. For anyone thinking about electric vessels, I was informed that we had explored this avenue although the associated costs threw up some challenges that made it something possibly for the future rather than an immediate solution. Because of the above issues, and to also support our move towards more efficient launches, we have decided to reduce the engine size to a smaller horsepower. We have gone with a Yanmar engine that is more reliable, more fuel efficient, creates less emissions and is better suited to operating at lower revs/speeds but still able to push the launch along at a satisfactory when required. I'm aware that many of you may already know snippets of the info above but I hope it's interesting to some of you to have the full picture. Although the situation has been far from ideal we have learned plenty of lessons and are looking forward to utilising her for her intended purpose once again. Hope you have a good weekend, Tom
  25. 18 points
    Meet 'Trevor the Transit' This is the replacement 'GriffTile' work horse. Trevor is a 2015 2:2Ltr 155bhp Transit Custom Sport 2900. With only 18'000 miles on the clock when I got him. A dream to drive with many optional extras as standard or ordered when new. Auto lights, Auto dip / main, Auto wipers, Heated seats, Heated front screen, Hands free voice phone, Lane assist, Traction control, Elec windows, Air Con, Cruise control, Speed limiter, Led lighting, etc etc the list goes on and on. It's a bit too plush / equipped for a works van tbh. I am getting molly coddled in my mobile office and loving it. He's been with me since the third week in August and we are just about up to spec. I've not done too much to him other than fit mudflaps - They weren't any on the front - Easy to fit. The rears had the original tiny Ford ones on. They had been riveted through the skirting kit into the body, a right pain drilling out the replacing rivets. Administered ZX1 to engine (Still to do it to the gearbox) fitted a K&N Air filter. The sign writing this time - I have gone for the magnetic written pads. Means I can go anonymous when I choose to do so. There is something a 'Bit Different' about the sign-writing on the magnetic pads - You spotted it? I was under threat of death from family members not to paint the door mirrors Red and Green. So I opted for coloured vinyl large dots - That means I'm still living having 'Got Away With It' - JUST, but still have my signature Port and Stbd markings. They aren't to enamoured with the lower rear advert pad either - Stuff em, it's my van and I have a sense of humour even if they don't. I have brought over my cherished plates of course. Although Trevor was ply lined out, I got stuck in and made some storage / racking in the back - pleased with the results. Ford didn't fit a spare wheel with this van - A right PITA that is. instead they give you a compressor and a tin of their tyre gunk. We all know that stuff ruins tyres and cannot repair a hole bigger than 6mm or any sidewall damage. So I have purchased a steel wheel and a spare tyre. Ordered a jack / handle / brace, and the kit to secure the spare wheel under the back floor panel. Once it all arrives I will get stuck into fitting that lot hopefully this weekend then chuck away the can of gunk and be a lot more confident. Talking of tyres. The tyres fitted are 235/50/18 !! What's more they are Goodyear F1 Eagles (Extra Load) - FFS! Who fits tyres like that to a van? They are going to cost an arm and a leg to replace and will be next to useless in the snow / ice I can see me having to purchase some smaller alloys with winter tyres fitted come December So the 'GriffTile' Vivaro is now away. I had that van for around 12 years of its to date 14 years and put about 160'00 on the clock. It was a great workhorse and owed me nothing when the time came for it to go. Trevor the Transit has a lot to live up to. We will see. Griff
  26. 18 points
    Whoopee! Graham and I are now confirmed members of the Moonlight Shadow syndicate. We are very much looking forward to our first week on her during the August bank holiday week. (Oh! Er! Never been on the Broads before during school holidays apart from a day boat above Potter.) It’s all thanks to SueH really. She and her husband were kind enough to show us around Moonlight Shadow back in 2017, when we happened to moor behind her at Norwich. It’s taken us a while as we had my Mam to look after in 2017 and over the past couple of years I’ve been quite restricted in the weeks I could take as leave. Given we’ve not been on the Broads during the summer madness before, can anyone offer advice on good (I.e.likely to be available) places to moor? The tides are good for getting through Yarmouth, and although I know it will be more busy ‘oop north’, I fancy having at least a couple of days on the northern rivers as we’ll be restricted to the south on our next allocated week in February. I made the mistake of listening to the Mike Oldfield song on YouTube last night. Can’t get it out of my head. Am driving Graham mad too, as I keep humming it. Still, I feel like dancing!
  27. 18 points
    This is what the view from Thorpe Green used to look like in the 1950s and 60s. The first one shows the hire fleet on a Saturday in August, 1955, and was taken by Fred Low, who was resident photographer for Coes of Norwich. He was well known and liked, as he also took all the society wedding photos around the county in those days! I suggest to Paul and other new members that they might like to have a look at the history section of the forum, where there is a thread called "Vaughan's memories", started by our dear departed friend JillR, and where he may find the answers to most of his questions. There are also two ciné films taken by my mother, which show what the boatyard was like, and life on the island as it was then. This is where the forum can provide such a valuable archive of history and other information, in a way that facebook never can.
  28. 18 points
    Well it has been an exciting time. I have bought an Alphacraft 29 Sports bridge, re named her Legacy because that's how I could afford her. A friend and I are still getting to grips with a thorough clean through and a bit of varnishing as well as making her dog safe. Chugged up and down a bit and practised mooring, peered at the engine checked the bilge pump and tried to look like I am an old hand! This Saturday another friend and I are on a hire boat, Sonnet 3 from Barnes. We decided to still have this holiday as Legacy isn't quite kitted out for a week yet, so hope to get some waves as we cruise by "the hand type not like storm Doris last year, very choppy"! I will do photos later in the year.
  29. 18 points
    Finally, at last, and those that know will tell you there were times we thought this would never happen. Then again it's all part of the ritual that is wooden boat ownership. Just got to finish the 200 or so little jobs that crave my attention, like fit the galley
  30. 18 points
    James Knight is a district counsellor. South Norfolk Council have appointed him as a full member of the Broads Authority I bet his high and mightiness is spitting feathers Griff
  31. 18 points
  32. 18 points
    Being both a boater and an active Angler, I too have a trotter in both camps. With regards to those that quote scientific argument on either side of maintaining or abolishing the closed season - I don't give a toss - Not even a nanno. I do however have an opinion and complete any surveys related to this hot topic I come accross I want the closed season maintained just as it is, not reduced but maybe extended if owt. My reasons are not scientific but they are my reasons, opinions and I'm entitled to them all the same. I do not expect others to agree with my opinions, just respect my right to voice them whether they are agreed with or not. I'll list a few of my reasons to continue with the closed season on the rivers of the Broads in no particular order. My list is not definitive and I maintain the right to add to it as I see fit:- 1) It gives the banks / fauna a respite. 2) It gives nesting birds a respite. 3) It give none nesting birds a respite. 3) It gives all riverside wildlife a respite. 4) It gives the fish a respite. 5) It gives boaters a few precious weeks of not having to keep a wary lookout for bank anglers camouflaged or otherwise. 6) It gives the rag-n-stick brigade full use of the river without having to worry about anglers. 7) It removes any potential arguments with regards to mooring / angling for a few precious weeks. 8) It gives no end of partners a respite from the Angler onboard a vessel choosing a mooring based on the prospect of fishing. 9) It gives non fishing partners the opportunity to 'Get Stuff Done' by their Angling other halfs. 10) It sometimes gets my blood pressure up witnessing out of season fishing but a chance to 'Do the right thing' - Report them! and finally 11) I like the closed season Griff
  33. 18 points
    Not a wedding anniversary or anything like that, but 46 years ago today, Doreen and I hired our first boat on the Broads, Sanderling No4 from Sandersons in Reedham. I remember it cost £29 plus the extras. We had never been to Norfolk before, let alone hired a boat so this was something completely new to us. Infact this was 18 months after we met and Doreen still lived in London at the time. To be honest, I just regarded it as a love-nest which was far from the madding crowd, well parents and nosey brothers anyway. We both loved it, probably for the uninterrupted time we had together, not to mention the new adventure we were on. It was so memorable I can still remember the "itinerary", which I have detailed below. Later that year Doreen asked if I would like her to buy me a new swish radio/record player for Christmas, but I declined and asked instead for a second week on the Broads, in November aboard Santa Lucia from Harvey Eastwood in Brundall. much better present! That was the start of the "addiction". It's funny how things get into your blood. The Broads has played a big part in my life, not just holidaying but working as well. Yet some people go once then never go again, or perhaps leave it for another 10 to 20 years. Saturday 3rd March. Reedham to Yarmouth Yacht Station We arrived at Reedham Station around 2pm thinking there would be a queue of taxis to take us to Sandersons. No such thing. It really did feel as though we have got off a train in the middle of nowhere. Thankfully someone gave us a lift down to the riverside. The 20ft Sanderling looked huge as we pulled up. I had read about the tides at Yarmouth and to be careful and as luck would have it, low water was at 4.15pm (about) so we arrived without mishap. I always think it's because we did Breydon etc on that first trip, that the fear you hear other people have of crossing over, never bothers me now. I can remember we went into the White Swan on the quayside for our night and there was a darts match on so it was packed out. It was a good night and we partook of the sandwiches and pork pies which were offered free of charge! Sunday Yarmouth to Wroxham We moored outside the Kings Head so we must have gone under Wroxham Bridge, though I don't remember that. Monday Wroxham to Neatishead. I can remember cruising down Lime Kiln Dyke standing with my head out of the canvas hatch above the wheelhouse, holding an umbrella above me. There were passing boats, even in March and quite a few laughed at that sight. Tuesday Neatishead to Acle (ended up at Upton Dyke) I have told the story before of how we ran out of daylight, mis-turned up the Thurne when heading for Acle, before turning around at Thurne Dyke and coming to a halt at Upton in the driving wind and rain - no mooring posts so rhond anchors. What a miserable night that was! Wednesday Upton to Oulton Broad Yacht Station There were no dramas crossing Breydon. I do remember arriving at Oulton Broad Y.S and seeing that two houseboats had been moored against the quayside. I asked one of the attendants where we could moor and he said at the floating jetty. We did so and I can recall accidentally dropping my earlier mentioned umbrella into the water and it disappearing into the depths when we were returning from a night at The Lady of the Lake, I think it was. Despite fishing for it with the boat hook and the fact that it was still erect when it went in, I could not retrieve it. It could still be there if anyone is short of a brolly! Thursday Oulton Broad to Brundall We moored outside the Riverside Stores which used to be at the head of the dyke leading to Brooms basin. I remember plenty of other hire boats there at the time. We spent the evening in the Yare Inn, which looked nothing like it does now. It was still big with two bars. We occupied the tap room/public bar or whatever it's called as that was where the jukebox was. I remember we had chicken in a basket with chips - one of the few meals we could afford to eat out. Friday Brundall to Loddon to Reedham We just went down the Chet to see what Loddon was like, spending a few hours there before returning to Reedham where we moored at Sanderson's yard. Cannot remember much about this day. Saturday Reedham - Home. Just to say that traveling by train, as many other people did at that time, involved changing trains at Norwich and Peterborough to get home to Leeds.
  34. 18 points
    Sunday 3rdFebruary We were awake by about 06:00 on Sunday morning – I’m usually up at about 04:30 and the wife by about 05:00 during the week, so sleeping in is unusual for us both. I got up, put the kettle and immersion heater on and peered out of the windows. It was a cold, frosty morning and the sky was clear, so hopeful of a photo-worthy sunrise, I pulled some clothes on, readied my camera and waited to see what developed. Debbie had taken Harley for a walk, leaving me to my own devices and as the sun rose above the horizon, I ventured outside, being extremely careful not to slip on the icy decks. The river was still as I wandered about, snapping happily away, until the first of many rowers passed by. The rising sun was casting some interesting light over the trees on the far side of the river and additional digital images were committed to memory card. The wife and the dog returned and went inside to warm up and I followed shortly after. We had breakfast of buttered crumpets and tea, before taking it in turns to shower and dress, ready for the day. I suppose it must have been around 09:30 when we started Moonlight Shadow’s engine and cast off, heading for Norwich. There were plenty of others on the river as we headed up the Yare, but only kayakers and rowers. The journey was uneventful and we cruised slowly into the ‘Fine City’, or it was until we reached the bridge at the Yacht Station. Unbeknown to me, there was an angling competition in progress that morning. I moved as far too the left hand side of the river as I could, trying to avoid the branches of the weeping willows as I went and headed very slowly past them. I hope I didn’t cause too many issues, though. We moored at the far end, between Pulls Ferry and Bishops Bridge and readied ourselves for the walk into town. It was a cold, crisp winter morning and even with the sun shining down, the pavements were still slippery from the overnight frost. Taking our usual route along the Riverside Walk and turning towards the Cathedral behind Pulls Ferry, we made our way carefully there. I wasn’t intending to go into the cathedral on this visit, but had a quick wander around the cloisters, and entered the building near the copper font and was greeted by the sound of the magnificent organ, still being played after the morning service had ended. I had a quick mooch round before going back outside to re-join the wife, who was decidedly put out by the fact that the bench she usually waited on, by the Edith Cavell memorial had been taken away. There were a couple of photographers with heavy duty telephoto lenses mounted on tripods aimed at the spire, so I wandered across to have a quick chat. It turned out that the Peregrines were out, taking in the sun. I chided myself for not taking my long telephoto with me, but took a few shots with my zoom compact camera, which does have a long telephoto lens (without resorting to digital zoom) and had to satisfy myself with the results. We carried on into the town, stopping at Greggs for some cakes (and a couple of sausage rolls – well it would be rude not to, wouldn’t it) before heading for Tesco. The city streets were busy with shoppers and several buskers, some of whom were very good, were playing in various locations. Shopping done, we sauntered back to Moonlight Shadow, retracing our steps past the Cathedral, along Riverside Walk and back over Bishops Bridge. I stopped to take a few pictures of the Cathedral, across the deserted school sports field, looking magnificent in the winter sun. Debbie made some rolls for lunch, with some ham bought from Tesco and we cast off, heading for our overnight moorings at The Ferry House, Surlingham, via the boatyard for water. It was a pleasant cruise back along the Wensum and Yare, with no anglers remaining at the Yacht Station to deal with. We chugged back to the kiosk at Brooms for water, only to find that the hose had been turned off. A sign indicated that water was available near the boat hoist, so we carefully passed the expensive craft that were moored nearby and manoeuvred close to the hose to top up with water, before heading the short distance back to the Ferry House to moor. I had booked the mooring earlier and had been told that it would be okay to moor side on, where there is usually only stern on mooring allowed and connected to the electric post. There was a substantial amount of credit on it, for which we were grateful. It was only then that I spotted a water hose at the pub, at the opposite side of the seating area and later, when we went in for our meal, I checked how much they charged to use it and was told it is free to patrons. A point well worth remembering. I set up the aerial and we watched TV for a while, before I went out to take a few photos of the setting sun. Dinner was booked for 19:00 and as ever, lived up to expectations – a warm welcome in a cosy pub and great value food. With the meal over, we left the warmth of the bar to take Harley along the lane to the village, before returning to the boat for the night. We watched Vera on TV, before making a hot drink and retiring to bed at about 22:30.
  35. 17 points
    On hitting the grass, my first fooparr dawned on me I had my lightweight soft soled trainers on, should have been my boots. I grabbed the headrope whilst MrsG took charge of the stern rope. 'B.A' was sitting parallel to the bank, broadside onto the wind about 6ft off. In seconds she was squarely making her way out to mid river, my trainers were failing to purchase and I was slipping on the wet grass. I noticed the slightly raised quay heading, foot ware firmly engaged, headrope round my back, forget using back muscles (Dangerous and asking for injury) engage leg power - ALL of it. I was at full strength, had no more to give. 'B.A' stopped her parallel march for the far bank BUT was not responding to my heaving by coming back towards me on my bit of port bank. By now she was a good 15ft away from us. Glancing to my right I didn't quite know whether to laugh or be horrified. MrsG was valiantly hanging on for dear life to the stern rope. She did have her boots on, not that they made any difference, she was being pulled inexorably into the river, boots and all I had visions of 'B.A' being blown over to the Stbd bank, nestling against moored craft, head and stern ropes in the water, engine running, out of gear with me on the wrong bank AND MrsG in the wet and crinckly stuff. This was already serious and getting worse by the second. Some quick logical seamanship thinking was required with a fast solution, immediately if not sooner I bellowed at MrsG - 'Let go of the rope RIGHT NOW' there was no gentle please or thankyous besides the wind would have vetoed that, this was a direct order MrsG did as instructed. This did two things. Firstly it saved her from getting pulled into the river, (I do wonder if she would have let go without being told to?) secondly it eased the strain I was experiencing and reduced my 100% effort down to about 70% as the stern immediately swing out into the river enabling 'B.A' to go bow into the wind, between us we were then able to pull her bow closer to the bank, get a rhond anchor in and the head rope made fast. Her stern was well out at 90d to the bank but she was safe. My legs were on fire, MrsG was doing the tears thing, she got a major fright and also thought I was going for a dip too. (No chance, us Yorkies can walk on water if no one it watching). My legs were on fire. We had a quick hug then I got set to again, we were not out of the woods just yet. Joining two ropes together I made the stern rope long enough to get ashore with it, every time the wind took a pause I heaved the stern a little closer to the bank. MrsG couldn't assist as I had her standing on the fwd rhond anchor to stop it being pulled out of the ground. Little by little 'B.A' came back to me and was soon alongside where she should have been ten minutes ago. Canopy / screens down - after stowing below all gear that could have been blown into the river, casting off was a 'Breeze' (Pun intended) and in no time at all we were through the bridge, a Stbd bank mooring was safely achieved by simply disengaging drive. Canopy / screens etc back up, all gear returned and relax - Wow. I was in so much shock I almost forgot to put coffee in my Rum (Almost, I did say Almost) Debrief - Just how the hell had I not taken account of the wind FFS ? It's not like it wasn't obvious. That mistake could have resulted in damage to 'B.A' and other craft, ok so realistically me and MrsG weren't in serious danger although both of us would have aches and pains for a couple of days. With another male crew member onboard things would have been easier, full crew - no problem but that is no excuse, there was just the two of us. It just goes to show, even with the experience I have gained of approaching 60 years visiting the Broads, 24 x Yrs in the RN - I can and did, still get it wrong, badly so. Three days later, I brought 'B.A' safely first time alongside the moorings at St Benets prior to entering the Ant. One does learn and is never too old to do so Griff
  36. 17 points
    Just realised I forgot to unload one of my cameras after our holiday in May this year! These are not the normal forum type photos, but they are right beside the river and it is a lovely walk on a fine spring day. You can wild moor at the end of a little dyke which leads up to what was Cromes Broad, just downstream from Irstead. The path becomes a track, which then becomes a lane, which joins Sharp Street, on its way to How Hill from Catfield. You can also start from the other end, by mooring at How hill, turn left into the lane out of the car park, and then left again in about half a mile.
  37. 17 points
    I have used my drone to take images of 11 points on the Broads over the last 12 months and have posted some of them on here as part of my holiday tales. I have managed to get some more stills from the video produced and together with the originals, you can see 61 images on a carousel linked below on a web page on my site. The originals are now orientated better and in some cases enhanced where they were either too dark or too light. Each location is taken from separate pages on my website so not all are captioned on this one long rolling carousel, which is not for general public viewing. To stop on a particular image, just hold your mouse over it. Needless to say, they are best viewed on a laptop, tablet or PC. The link: https://www.norfolkbroadsboathire.biz/map_viewer.asp
  38. 17 points
    Monday 4thFebruary We woke on Monday morning to a pretty miserable day. It was raining and the wind was quite strong. The wife pulled on some clothes and took the dog for her walk and I turned on the immersion heater and kettle. I made a cuppa and looked out of the window. What a difference from the sunrise the previous day. Debbie soon returned, rather disgruntled. She had somehow turned the wrong way just as a particularly strong gust of wind had blown up, which had inverted her favourite umbrella. I was obviously concerned, or tried to sound it, however the thought of attempting to remove what was left of it from a sensitive part of my anatomy curtailed my chuckles!! We had toast and marmalade for breakfast and once again, took it in turn to get showered and dressed. Before casting off, we topped up with water, using the hose at the pub. My intended destination was Oulton Broad, so we headed back through Brundall and along the Yare. The wind was blowing quite hard and the wiper on MS proved absolutely useless in clearing sufficient of the screen to see clearly the river ahead. Still, it wasn’t exactly busy – I think we only saw one other boat between there and Reedham, which was deserted as we cruised through. I turned down the New Cut. Anyone who thinks the Bure between Stracey Arms and Yarmouth is monotonous, needs to go along the New Cut which really is monotonous! It was already lunchtime, so Debbie heated some soup, which went down well with a couple of slices of bread and butter. As we turned onto the Waveney from the New Cut, the weather began to improve a little. The wind had dropped slightly and the rain had eased. We easily passed under the bridge at Somerleyton and still hadn’t seen another boat on the river since much earlier in the day. Debbie put down her cross- stitch, which had kept her engrossed for much of the journey and stood near the helm, watching out of the window. She pointed to a shape swimming, ahead and to the port side, thinking it was an otter as we approached the turn into Oulton Dyke. By the time I looked where she was pointing, it had disappeared, but it resurfaced again and I saw it was a seal. I slowed down and we travelled side by side along the dyke until the river turned sharp left at the entrance to the Broad and managed to snatch a few photos as it surfaced and dove back down again. And that proved to be the only excitement of the day, really. We chugged across the Broad and found our mooring on the outside of the pontoon that we had reserved by phone earlier in the day. With the boat secured, I set up the aerial and we watched TV for a while. By then, the weather had calmed down considerably and it had turned into a pleasant evening. The sun began to set and I went for a walk with my camera whist the wife took Harley for her evening walk. It was soon dark, so the oven went on to prepare dinner and we enjoyed a glass or two of wine whilst we waited and another glass or two as we ate. Such decadence!! With the resulting washing up done, we settled down to watch TV until it was time for bed. Granted, the weather had been inclement, but in reality we had relaxed and enjoyed the surroundings, which is what it’s all about when you’re on the Broads.
  39. 17 points
    Before the next instalment I should like to congratulate those who have made it this far. If you stick around a little longer then I promise that my Hinge and Bracketesque "random jottings" will begin to encompass the Norfolk Broads, especially Oulton Broad and the Waveney Valley as seen through the eyes of a schoolboy. I'm writing this as I go along, and although it's all in my head somewhere, finding certain bits of it takes a little longer than it once did. Please forgive me if the interlude between instalments is sometimes a little longer than would be polite. If you are expecting a new edition of Swallows and Amazons then accept my apologies now and return to your daily life before I cheat you of time irrecoverable. Our adventures were, in hindsight somewhat more mundane. There will be no mysterious castings off to investigate, no tales of derring-do as we attempt to evade the attentions of hullabaloos, though, as you will see, Arthur Ransome had a big influence upon us. I woke early this morning, as I always do, if you can call it waking. Sleep is a luxury mostly denied to me now. Days are punctuated by brief periods of restless recumberance, itself perforated by nocturnal wanderings between bedroom and bathroom. Titter not, you will find out what I mean one day. My early rising did however afford me a glorious sunrise this morning. Firstly, as I always do, I checked that I was still breathing, I consider that my main goal in life. Each day that I can "tick that box" is one more minor victory. Another night successfully negotiated. Was it Edgar Allan Poe who said "Sleep, those little slices of death. How I loathe them? There would be little for him to loathe in my nightly routine. Last night was clear and crisp, very crisp in fact. The garden was icy this morning, shining bright silver in the half light which all too briefly perforates night and day. Standing in the sack yard on top of the old "coal hole" puffing away on the "e-cig" gadget which some years ago replaced the Woodbines I stood and watched the first promise of the day to come as the sun rose between the two plane trees at the bottom of the orchard. It was quite a Stonehenge moment. It was about then that I decided to pen this minor interlude. Originally it was my plan simply to divest myself of each episode as and when they became available, inflicting them upon an unsuspecting world through the vessel of your wonderful site, without comment or explanation. This morning I changed my mind. I do that a lot just lately. So at this point I would issue a word of warning. Some of what I write, if not much of it really happened. "The stories are real, the people are real", oh golly, too much daytime TV me thinks. To that end the names have been changed, what do they say, to protect the innocent? On this occasion it's perhaps more a case of protecting the guilty, but either way changed they have been. I have watched this site for many years, awaiting the moment when it seemed germane to dump this diatribe upon you all and I am aware that there are those amongst us who will know the area and the time, and perhaps some of the people in my story. One or two here I may well have met during the period covered. I would ask that if anything thing, or anyone seems familiar then ignore that familiarity and just go with the story. It will all make sense in the end. Sense? Who am I kidding, but stick around, nonetheless. Finally I should like to issue two apologies. Firstly for the somewhat coarse manner in which I ended the previous episode. A vulgar and unpleasant word however you didn't know the dog. No more polite descriptor adequately portrays the vehemence of the flatulent pyrotechnics of which that animal was capable. And secondly? Please excuse any errors of logography, my grammar and spelling are not what they might be. Occasionally I may invent word which doesn't, but which in my head should exist, hopefully it's meaning will be clear by the context in which it sits. All my life I have been a little dysexlic, though I try not to let it show.
  40. 17 points
    Just to let you all know that today I forwarded £1000.00 in cheques to the Neuro Care Charity in Sheffield from family and friends in memory of Tan. Regards Alan
  41. 17 points
    We the mods of NBN are, Reading all your posts from afar, Jokes and opinions, (BA posts, the sticky 'uns) Smoothing the things that jar.  Ooohh watch that post, the naughty one,  Just too far that joke has gone. Shall we hide it? Let it ride? It's Bound to cause a lot of fun.  Christmas comes but once a year, it's the season for good cheer, Post of boats and cheery notes Of quarrels we'll steer well clear.  Ooohh watch that post, the naughty one, Just too far that joke has gone. Shall we hide it? Let it ride? It's Bound to cause a lot of fun. The Forum's in a holiday mood, Lots of gifts and plenty of food. Friends we recall, God bless us all Mods wish you a great New Year.
  42. 16 points
    What future a wooden boat? I write this seeking ideas, advice and feedback from you all regarding the future of wooden broads cruisers in general. As most of you know, I am quite heavily involved in the wooden boat scene and I am painfully aware of the amount of old cruisers sat out there rotting away unwanted and unloved yet, on here there is such enthusiasm for these graceful old ladies. What has also become apparent is that, whilst everybody rather likes the idea of having a wooden boat, the horror stories that come along with wooden boat ownership are enough to turn even the most hardened enthusiast into a nervous wreck. In the meantime yet another phone-call comes my way with an offer of an abandoned project (I get a couple a month these days) which, “if you cant rescue it this week, is heading for a meeting with a chainsaw”. Of course we could never save them all but maybe saving one or two wouldn't go amiss? But how do we do it? Syndicate ownership? Works superbly well for the huge range of syndicate boats out there. There are many different syndicate formats, some run by their own management committee's and some through commercial companies. Would syndicate ownership be the way to go? Buying into a syndicate normally means that your capital investment is safe because you can sell your share again and recoup that investment, give or take a bit. However, as we have already said, people are scared of wooden boats because of the unexpected bills. Selling a wooden broads cruiser is pretty hard and owners can, and sometimes do, wait years for a buyer. Yes, of course there is a certain amount of over valuing to take into account which doesn't help but how easy would it be to sell part of a wooden boat? Another possible issue with syndicate ownership is that you would still be liable for the ongoing costs until you do find a buyer and that could include winter maintenance programmes Syndicates tend to have management committee's who vote for upgrades, maintenance etc as part of their day to day running. That may be a perfect scenario for a wooden boat or may be counter productive if maintenance was compromised in favour of upgrades etc. I think syndicate ownership is possible for a wooden boat once its finished but would value your thoughts... Shared ownership? Not that dis similar to syndicate but on a smaller scale run and managed by the owners rather than company and management committees. A very good idea and works really well for Broad Ambition (eg.) though her running, maintenance and upgrade costs are a bit eye watering! An equal share of a boat with everything split evenly. Shared ownership needs a group of very like minded friends who are in it for the long term rather than syndicate which can potentially be dipped into and out of more easily. I know of a shared ownership wooden boat that had two owners pull out when a restoration was needed. Fortunately the remainers were able to keep going and the end result was a success. I also know of a shared ownership boat that looked for and found someone to come on board part way through the restoration when money was running out which also ended in success though these examples are rare yet relevant. There have been many many more wooden boats broken up and destroyed in the last couple of years than restored and that is a fact! A Boat Buddy Scheme? I had never heard of the boat buddy scheme until Chameleon (Mike) told me about one he was involved in some years ago. His scheme didn't quite work out for him but he was able to just walk away and do something else which is a point mentioned above. Now here is where it (possibly) gets interesting. A boat has a set of costs for a season, tax, insurance, moorings, servicing, maintenance etc. These costs are divided between the boats owner and boat buddys – friends of the boat. The owner retains ownership throughout and the buddies pay whatever proportion is agreed in exchange for use of the boat. Its not hire, there are no damage waivers and you would be responsible just as if its your own boat whilst it is in your care. Absolutely no profit is made from boat buddy schemes and the spending is transparent for all to see. The advantages of this sort of thing with wooden boats is that you get to walk away, no millstone round your neck so to speak. End of the year, season or whatever period is decided you can just move on. Maybe such a scheme is just what the wooden boat scene needs to encourage new blood aboard? Water Rail In the meantime, while all this was being talked about Water Rail came on the market and was offered on this forum amongst other outlets. Of course WR attracted lots of interest, not all of it favourable, but ultimately there were no genuine buyers... until we had a chat! Anyway, the upshot of all this is that I have bought Water Rail with the proviso that Liz has first opportunity to buy her back in the future should circumstances dictate. WR will continue her guardship duties with Liz should she be required as well. With this in mind I took things a stage further and did some pricing, took advice from the Broads Authority regarding appropriate tolls, Navigators about the insurance requirements, got a quote for gas bottles, breakdown cover, prop cover, section 10 bss (that includes all the safety requirements that hire craft comply to) gas safety check, a couple of oil changes and a lift out for end of season inspection and antifoul etc, oh yes, and an accessible mooring with parking! Water Rail works out at £4539 for the season give or take a bit (one or two prices were estimates and obviously next years toll will be a bit more). With a season from Easter to October thats a what... £250 a week roughly? All restoration costs are mine alone as her owner by the way. Whatever Boat Buddy type of scheme we put together, if any, is purely based on the years running costs. I would love Water Rail to be enjoyed by people who are as enthusiastic about her as I am and who are interested in our historic fleet. Water Rail is a little darling, almost 90 years old and offers a true boating experience from the past. So I am throwing it out there to see what you all think, and whether there is any genuine interest in being involved in Water Rail for the 2020 season? And yes, I am mad!!
  43. 16 points
    Thanks all of you. So kind xx Griff
  44. 16 points
    Ludham is a great place to live and like any village, you get plenty of village gossip. When a shop is for sale, there is bound to be a lot of speculation about what the new owners will or won't do. This is especially true for a shop like Throwers which has been in the same family for over 100 years. I have heard most of the stories in this thread repeated in village gossip starting pretty much as soon as the shop went on the market. However, until the shop is actually sold there is not much point in speculating about what the new owners are going to do (or not do) since we don't actually know who the new owners will be. The Ludham Butchers recently changed hands and there were changes as a result, but the shop continues and I still get my meat there. When Throwers changes hands we will undoubtably see changes there too. Change isn't necessarily a bad thing. In the past there were a lot more shops in Ludham than there are now. At the time that the Thrower family bought the shop, the village was largely self sufficient and you could get everything you needed locally. If you wanted to go shopping in Norwich, it was an all day trip on the carrier's cart and not worth the effort for most people. Times have changed and you can be in an out of town shop very quickly now and we are all buying on-line too. Village shops are not immune to these processes. Let's hope the new owners can keep the shop going and the business viable for many years to come. Nigel (Ludham)
  45. 16 points
    Yesterday we were moored at Ludham Bridge, just upstream from the demasting area. The kettle had boiled and coffee was on the go. Out of the corner of my eye an orange boat was looming close by, too close, too close by far. Their bow was at about 45 degrees to the bank and we were subjected to a scrape along the starboard side. I called out to the crew and they responded (too rude to repeat), and made off without stopping. Now the good news, I phoned Richardson’s and explained what happened. They offered to visit at our home moorings to assess the damage. I suggested that as we were on the way to Stalham we could call in. We arrived this morning to be greeted by two members of staff (Tony and Carl). The damage was minimal as it turns out and within the hour a cut and polish restored Chiltern Lady to her usual pristine self. Thanks to Richardson’s for some good old fashioned service.
  46. 16 points
  47. 16 points
    Hi all, Just wanted to let you know that after the furore on Facebook the other week, works to replace the missing channel markers on Breydon Water have commenced on Monday this week and will be running for approx. two weeks. We're replacing the missing ones with more durable steel posts and will be swapping out the temporary buoys that mark out the channel for new posts too. All vessels are asked to exercise caution when navigating in the area. Thanks, Tom
  48. 16 points
    We are all too aware of the bin crisis currently occuring around the broads however there are still bins to be found on some moorings provided specifically for boaters use. Last week while at Wroxham about 19.30 in the evening we witnessed a council type truck pull up beside the bin enclosure and the driver deposit a large number of black bags into the bins pretty much filling the lot. I made a note of the reg number and intended to fire an email off to the authorities saying bins were hard enough to find when afloat without their staff filling them etc etc. Anyway, a few evenings later and we are moored for the night at Neatishead when around the same time, the same truck arrives and fills both their bins completely. Recognising both the truck and the driver it was out with the camera and we caught it all on film so to speak. Turns out one of the parish councils was desperate to catch whoever had been abusing their facility but they had assumed it was boaters and were looking to possibly remove the bins completely. And that is the reason for this thread. The bins at yacht stations, staithes and moorings tend to be marked 'for boat users only' and are being abused by other people. In some cases those bins could be lost if it continues. Should you see anyone abusing the facilities in such a way, any information you can offer to the parish councils etc would be useful and may just keep these sites open for us boaters. Most sites have the bin providers details on them. Cheers
  49. 16 points
    Beautiful sunrise over the early morning mist on the water.
  50. 16 points
    Someone who knows which way round a boat should be when going under a bridge. :-)
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