Timbo

Hi Nigel, Nice to 'type' you again. I wondered if you could clear something up for me? Much like a medieval cartographer I'm trying to centre my geography before I start dipping into the geology and archaeology. I came across a hand drawn map on the Ludham archive (below), but I'm having difficulty marrying it up to the other sources I have on the Great Estuary such as the Hutch Map and the Broadland NMP. Do you have some clues as to the data it was created from?

Over this last year I've been delving into the history of Broadland in quite some detail. Not I hasten to add it's more modern history, the fantastic Broadland Memories site has that area brilliantly covered, but history of the ancient variety. You see what started me pondering was a visit to St Benet's Abbey, unusually by car, to retrieve Dylly The Boat's Beagle's (DTBB) tether which I had accidentally forgotten when we had moored Royal Tudor (RT) at the Abbey the previous day for a visit with guests. As my guests had gone for a day out by car in Norwich, and I was unable to find the tether...DTBB and I took the opportunity for an extended 'mooch' around on our own. As we explored the liturgical precepts of the church ruins DTBB pulled one way on his lead as I tripped over a mole hill. On my way to the floor I spotted something out of kilter with the images I had seen of reconstructions of the church. An apse. I spent an hour or so crawling around on my hands and knees...long enough for some kindly soul to check if I had injured myself and needed assistance, whereupon after explaining what I was up to they were also crawling around on their hands and knees. I needed a little more information so once back at home I started searching and quickly retrieved the results of the Geophysical Survey conducted in 1996. Sure enough there in the report is the paragraph "Also, beyond the eastern end of the abbey some very faint linear high resistance anomalies may be discerned, apparently in the shape of an apse. However, any suggestion of a possible apsidal eastern end to the abbey must remain firmly in the realm of conjecture owing to the faintness of the anomaly and the generally poor quality of the resistance measurements obtained on the site." Now this is 'geophys' speak for 'could be, but if you find nowt' we are not to blame...don't cut our portion of the budget'. ​Here's the interpretive geophysics map...the possible apse feature is marked 11...what do you guys think? My mind is also working along the lines of 'ooh look at the position of the cemetery'! ​I set to familiarize myself with the general history of the Abbey. The work done and information provided by the Archaeological Trust is exemplary, however as I delved more and more into the records and turned to earlier secondary sources such as the 'Chronica Johannis de Oxenedes' (a chronicle written in Latin by a monk of St Benet's around 1290) I started to get a little disconcerted with the modern accounts of the ancient history of Broadland...as presented to the general public. Particularly with regard some of the propaganda circulating at the time of the dissolution. I'm still beavering away on my own 'History of Broadland' so will report more later if its OK?

Oooh the genius of the man! I think we should make an approach to Radio 4 for a new programme...Mynah Retorts, a satirical review...

having lead such a sheltered life I wondered if someone could explain something to me... Picture the scene, Tesco Friday night...every check out bar one is manned or 'womanned' by a young lady of the ginger persuasion. Now that needs no explanation...I live in a small town and I am one of the few inhabitants that is not related to everyone else living in town...no, what needs some explanation is that everyone of the ginger haired checkout assistants had dyed their hair jet black, except for about three inches of flame red hair roots. What's that all about?

It's all lies you know! I've seen MM use his moisture trap on the odd pint or two...Moisture Trap is 'posh darn 'sarf' for the cake'ole int it?

Bedding: Royal Tudor has her original sprung leather paliases, so here is my bedding list...quite comprehensive...imitation sheepskin base cover...then single duvet which is used to lay on...then a double duvet as the cover...two fleece blankets (just in case) finally two beagles to act as hot water bottles. Bog Roll: The original operating instructions for Royal Tudor's thunder-box, still attached to the door in the heads, states "Unless you have already eaten it, with the exception of two ply tissue, do not place it in this toilet." There was a further notice pinned to the back of the door by myself which reads "Do not use this appliance if there is a public convenience available within a one mile radius of the boat's location unless you have the cash available to pay for the next pump out!" I did mention I'm a Yorkshireman didn't I?

My brush with an insurance company turned into a bit of a farce. I had a mint condition 1962 SAAB 96 Granturisimo...even the tools in the boot were still wrapped in their original greased paper. Whilst I was parked, some goon had thrown a cigarette out of a passing vehicle which had gone through my open window and set fire to my beautiful car. The car was towed away by my local SAAB garage however the insurance company insisted that the car be taken to a Ford dealership which wrote off my car. The insurance company then sent me their settlement offer which was £250! The car had cost me £10,000 and was insured for £15,000. I refused the offer and ended up contacting the ombudsman. The insurance company insisted I could get an identical car to mine in the same condition for £250. Whilst waiting to hear from the Ombudsman five months later, I received notification I had committed a parking offence in London the previous week...in the SAAB! I immediately telephoned the insurance company telling them I was rejecting their offer and I wanted my car back. I decided to leave them to stew a couple of days, but two days later there was a knock at my door and a representative of the company mumbled 'hello' gave an apology and handed me a cheque for £15,000. Apparently someone had realised the value of the car, bought it at a knock down price and had sold on. I still insisted on seeing the car, after all it was my property and it was theft. However just about all of the original interior had been replaced with modern and eventually I settled for a larger sum...in return for not taking matters further. Perhaps I should have taken matters further...but you see there was this beautiful new Honda Prelude I had seen in a garage!

The Canal and River Trust Map of Berkhampsted Now I suppose there is a clue in the title...but you would have thought the graphic designer would have realised....and what's with the strategically placed arrows? But then again I suppose if they are going to put these up on walls and signboards...it saves the kids doodling their own!

Over a couple of beers i believe it was the Great Worthy Maurice Mynah who proffered some sage advice...'the first thing to do should Uncle Albert be in danger of drowning is to make sure you've not got your foot on his head'. Seriously though, two bits of advice I can pass on to others coping with the elderly or infirm on board a boat is contact a local GP and get them to share notes with the home GP. Saves a lot of faffing about. Secondly, it took a while to locate one, but I bought one of those torches that has the yellow flashing beacon on top of it to help emergency services locate our boat in the dark. Later this year when I fit the navigation lights to Royal Tudor I will be adding a similar beacon to the mast as the torch has proved useful on occasion.

Uncle Albert’s Fireworks My Dad is an ex Humber Keelman, and ex Royal Navy, so it is not without surprise that you should learn he is known as ‘Uncle Albert’ in the small Lincolnshire village we call home. There is not a craft, military or leisure or commercial, that he hasn’t been aboard. Likewise there is not a body of water in the world that he hasn’t floated on...or more probably in Uncle Albert’s case, fallen into. The only thing that we have in common as father and son is a love of water, boats and fishing. Life afloat with Uncle Albert can be pretty stressful. Let me correct that, life anywhere with Uncle Albert is stressful...afloat is more so. You see Uncle Albert has dementia, as well as one lung, a triple heart bypass, and diabetes. I wish my dear old Mum had slept around a bit, you know... just to give me a medical chance in life, but unfortunately I look too much like my Dad for that to be the case. A typical day on board our boat Royal Tudor starts early for me, and I do mean early!Typically I’m up in time to witness that curious phenomenon of the false dawn. A faint lightening of the sky then darkness again. A celestial application of WD 40 before the engine of the morning roars into life and the sun finally peeps over the horizon. This is the part of the day I consider to be mine. Even Dylly The Boat’s Beagle (DTBB) is still snuggled under the duvet as with a mug of fresh coffee, Old brown Java, in one hand and a roll up, a Burley and Virginia blend, in the other I venture on deck alone to enjoy some peace and quiet. Just as I finish my second mug of coffee DTBB pokes his nose out of the cockpit, gives me enough time to grab his lead and an empty plastic bag, before he makes his leap to the bank and we set off for our morning walk. An hour and a half later we are back at the boat and the days work begins. The kettle goes back on, and I start to lay out Uncle Albert’s clothes. Jogging bottoms, t-shirt, gansey, Regimental Blazer complete with ‘Engine Room’ badge, and his Breton Sailors hat complete with RN cap badge. I often wonder what happens inside a man’s head when he reaches the point in life when he starts to dress like a complete tit without fear of social consequences? With my tablets taken, and Uncle Albert’s laid ready, insulin etc ready to hand it’s clock watching time. As soon as it is safe to do so...the engine goes on. I need hot water. Lots of hot water! Fortunately Royal Tudor’s layout mean’s that Uncle Albert’s cabin is directly opposite the shower and by a clever opening and closing of doors means he has an on suite cabin with plenty of room for me to maneuver him. Donning my rubber gloves and disposable pinny I swing into action. Uncle Albert is out of bed and plonked in the shower. Bedding and night clothes are bagged and into sealed plastic boxes. Duvet is out onto the cabin top and scrubbed, before I scrub down the berth and mop out the cabin. It’s usually at this point that someone will hammer on the side of the boat to complain about the engine noise. I do try to pick a mooring away from others but sometimes I will need the local services...shops or sometimes a chemist or doctor. I used to be apologetic in the extreme, I still make sure I go around our neighbours in the evening to warn them of the noise the following morning. However these days if the sun is up, I’m up and I’m busy. The sight of someone in their pyjamas hurrying away from an irate Yorkshireman in rubber gloves and plastic pinney is a common one around Royal Tudor. With the duvet scrubbed and everywhere mopped and dried Uncle Albert emerges from the shower and dressed. A slurp of his cup of tea to take his tablets and a jab for his blood test and another for his insulin and I use the remains of his cup of tea to coax him up into the cockpit and down into the galley for breakfast. While Uncle Albert enjoys a leisurely breakfast it’s my turn to hit the showers and finish putting the cabins to rights. Then it’s time to do those chores around the boat, check fuel, water, clean the decks, stow everything away etc before planning the day’s activities. A final walk of DTBB and it’s on with life jackets...and we are away! First port of call to refill Royal Tudor’s water tanks and find a suitable rubbish disposal site. Uncle Albert enjoys, occasionally, doing things for himself. However his activities are often ‘not boat friendly’. Should he make a cup of tea he will insist on allowing the kettle to blow steam while he potters about fetching cups, milk, tea bags...reads a bit of his paper, dismantles something, decides to trace a wire from an old electrical switch taking off cupboard doors in his pursuit. By the time he gets round to putting water in the cup the kettle has either boiled dry or the headlining has peeled off of the cabin roof. God forbid he decides to make toast while we are underway. He will invariably burn the toast then scrape off all of the black bits all over the galley worktop and floors. By lunchtime I need to find a place to moor and locate a newspaper. Once he has his newspaper I can guarantee that Uncle Albert will be quiet for an hour or so as he reads his paper and then falls asleep. It’s at this point that I walk DTBB and then try and grab an hours kip myself ready for the afternoon. It was after an afternoon nap last year that disaster nearly struck Royal Tudor and her crew. Before I go for a nap I shut down all of the gas, close the cabin doors etc. After a particularly arduous day my nap had gone on a little too long. Fortunately my eighteen year old daughter was with us and looking after Uncle Albert. When I awoke it was dusk. Disorientated I made my way from my cabin, past Uncle Albert’s and up into the cockpit. Uncle Albert must have been pestered by midges as the scent of sandalwood joss sticks wafted up into the cockpit. “Finally!” said my daughter as she pushed past me and into the heads. I bobbed down to poke my head through into the galley to watch Uncle Albert who had reached across picked up the galley matches and the joss stick packet, strike a match and light another joss stick. Suddenly the galley erupted into brilliant light. Uncle Albert chortled and started to wave his hand around in blinding white circles painting patterns on my retinas. It took me a while to work out what was going on. The galley was filled with acrid black smoke as I snatched the ‘sparkler’ from Uncle Albert’s hand and dropped it onto the bank. “Fetch Holly!” exclaimed Uncle Albert “While I light another one!” he continued. I grabbed the matches and packet of joss sticks from him. On closer inspection the packet of joss sticks contained six more ‘sticks’ two of which turned out to be more sparklers. The packet was consigned to the safe in my cabin and locked away along with the box of matches. Back at home after scrubbing the black smoke marks from Royal Tudor’s galley all the while remembering how lucky we had been...I still have cold sweats...I researched the company that packaged the joss sticks. An Indian company that also packages fireworks. I contacted the importers and trading standards but have never heard anything back. I think we are almost at the point now where Uncle Albert’s adventures afloat are at an end. I hope not, there may be one more voyage left in the old boy...that is me I’m talking about not Uncle Albert. Both Uncle Albert and I and Royal Tudor have had a rough year this year but we will see what next year brings.

very useful bit of information as the Broads are notorious for not getting a signal depending upon location and network.

Royal Tudor has a little bit of memorabilia aboard. For a number of years I was friends with 'Bill' who lived a few doors up from me. A spry old chap in his late 90's, and about six stone wet through, whom I first met while he was in mid pursuit of some miscreants who had been throwing stones at his windows. A firm friendship soon developed with Dylly my beagle stopping by to pay Bill a visit whenever we passed daily and Bill insisting I take a drink with him. When I first told Bill we were purchasing Royal Tudor he dragged out his box of 'odds and ends' from his families and his days in the Royal Navy. Four generations of Royal Navy men At the bottom of the box was a medal...a VC. I later found out that Bill had been a crew member aboard HMS Amethyst. By this time Bill was very frail indeed and I asked him who had played him in the film the Yangtze Incident? "Oh I wasn't in the film." was Bill's reply. "Why ever not?" I asked. "Well, John Wayne couldn't do a Lincolnshire accent!"laughed Bill. I never found out what Bill was awarded the VC for, but his stories of his time in the RN and especially his tales of escorting US prisoners in his role as an M P were enthralling. Bills passing was a sad occasion, he'd called me for help after a fall on the pavement and I had to escort him to the hospital where they found he was suffering from aggressive cancer. Some weeks later there was a knock at my door and his house keeper presented me with a brown paper parcel. "Bill wanted you to have this and told me to frame it for you.' she said. Unwrapping the parcel I found a framed 'Battle Ensign' from a submarine Bill had served on as well as a set of first day covers featuring the Royal navy. Now we don't fly the battle ensign but it does sit proudly in RT's cockpit as a reminder of a brave man who would often ply me with whiskey and brandy and tales of the sea from four generations of his family. I do miss him and his sense of humour...John Wayne indeed!

Now you see I am wondering if Pat is the Captain? Firstly your point blank refusal to wear a proper boating hat...complete with fake gold braid and anchor...and secondly pat is the one showing all the boating battle scars...so I'm wondering do i have to provide her with appropriate headgear, eyepatch and hook cum crochet needle? Nice to see you all and I look forward to having a look around that spiffing boat of yours!

So this morning I received another letter from Norfolk Plod...apologising for a mistake they had made. 'Yipee!' thinks I. I just knew I wasn't speeding. But no, that was not the mistake. Comparing both notices of intention to prosecute it seems they have mistaken the direction in which I was travelling. In other words it seems they don't know whether I was coming or going...or indeed, upon reflection, it seems whether they themselves are coming or going.

Thanks everyone for the advice...I'm determined to learn all of these skills, but if you see me waving at you as you pass me by... please do heave to and make sure I've not nailed my hand to the deck?

For some time now, I have been having a running battle with Uncle Albert regarding which ensign should be flown from Royal Tudor. Uncle Albert feels he is allowed to fly a blue ensign...while I know perfectly well that he's not. Up until now we have flown the 'red duster' from Royal Tudor. As a compromise I employed a young seamstress (the sewing variety) to make me a copy of the Tudor ensign to fly from the blunt end. I was showing a colleague the design for the 'historical' ensign of green stripes on a white field with the cross of St george in the upper quadrant as per the other ensigns. The colleague thought it apt that Royal Tudor should fly the Tudor ensign but pointed out that I would require permission from the mistress in residence at SW1A 1AA. I have written to ask permission by the way. My colleague told me that there are certain flags that a British Subject can not fly from a boat...no matter the boat type or their location, sea or inland waterway. Flags included in this prohibition include the Union flag (and I've seen a few of those on Broads) the governing law is section 4 of the merchant shipping act 1995. Apparently there is a £1000 fine for each offence. Casting my mind back to this time last year and dear Ray (regulo on'tother forum) had some rather spiffing Union flag bunting all over his fine vessel...now a grand per flag...makes your eyes water!

Norfolk does not have Boyes stores but I do recommend them for cost conscious anglers. It's possible to pick up some serious bargains. Major and Minor don't need a rod licence but senior does...well he would on the waters where I am a bailiff. Although the adult is not fishing there are times when he will have to pick up the rod etc to demonstrate to the kids. When I was taught to fish as a kid Dad went into the importance of holding a license, so much so he held it up as 'badge of honour' to hold one, so as soon as I was old enough to warrant the junior license I was as keen as mustard to get one...'real angler' then you see. I've passed that philosophy onto my lad who is proud as punch to have a license, and we also pass it onto junior members of our club. They way we do it is to let them know that you can do some serious damage with a fishing rod its a bit like owning a gun. Dramatic I know but it does get the message across about the license and 'good' fishing practices. As they have a haberdashery department the other thing that Boyes is a good source of is 'stitch counters'. As we don't allow keepnets on our waters we give the kids one so they can keep a track of the fish they catch...number of fish over size or weight of fish. I have to admit I get a bigger kick out of teaching the kids to fish and how to target a specific species that I ever did in things like fishing matches.

Sometimes they just have to learn the hard way. Last year my young crew member (16) point blank refused to wear a life jacket, no matter how many times I told them to wear it, every time I turned around the jacket would be hanging off the wheelhouse door. Leaving Ranworth and part way up the dyke I heard a call. Expecting to see the dog in the water (he does wear his life jacket) I saw my young crew member bobbing in the drink with the Boat's Beagle sat on the deck doing the head swivel between me at the helm and the crew member in the water as if to say 'have you seen that?'. My first thought was 'what's that prat doing in the water, other than the breast stroke that is'. I calmly stopped the engine, dropped the mud weight and strolled to the blunt end where I threw out the life belt and retrieved the crew member. Cold, scared, surprised at how much water they had swallowed, at how deep the water was, how black it was just below the surface and at how fast the water in the dyke was flowing... that crew member now never leaves the cockpit without a lifejacket.Not ever! And there indeed did endeth the lesson, a lesson learned the hard way.

Among the lists of things to do on Royal Tudor, under the heading of 'stop getting wet' is the repair of the canopy. RT has a canvas canopy supported by four wooden spars, curved to allow water run off, that are fitted snugly into slots on the cabin sides with the aid of brass shims. Now since we got rammed by the Herbert Woods Cruiser last year the canopy has been playing up. The rear spar would always twist in position so it hung upside down making the canvas canopy into a water reservoir and has since snapped in two. Repair to the actual canvas itself is not a problem (20 years a Scout Leader and I'm a dab hand at stitching and proofing canvas). Where I am coming unstuck is with replacing the curved spar and the brass shims, some of which went missing in the collision. What I wanted to know was, is there any where I can take a new spar to and ask them to steam it into shape? And if so how much is it likely to cost me? Also is there anywhere that can make up the shims for me? The diagram is neither to scale or with the right number of components. Fingers crossed Tim

It was the "anglers hoping to hook an eel or a pike" that raised my eyebrows...an eel? Hoping to catch an eeewwwwwk eel?

I'm usually all for the conservationist types (or beardy weirdies) but when they start releasing these things on the Broads the inevitable outcome is going to be my size 12 making contact...with a little added grinding motion just to make sure!

Thanks for the tip...will be painting decks shortly and that has saved me some money!

Thanks for the link Paladin...at least I'm not the only numpty that's been caught out! Hi Jonzo, it's the new Qashqai system. Although it does make me wonder how these new self driving cars the government are planning for in 2015 are going to work...particularly in Norwich. "Yes Mr R2D2 I know there was no sign, have three points on your digital license and install this software on stealth taxation!"

After another phone call and a trip down to my garage for a print out of my Navvy computer apparently my offence took place on the A1074 Dereham Rd at 09:43, now the only camera I can think of is the one by the BP garage. The print out from my navvy does show that I was doing 33 MPH at 09:42 at that point so yes I am guilty, however the last speed sign read by the car was a 40 MPH. I shall take my slapped wrist, points and fine...or a lecture. What bugs me is that I traded in my big engined car, after not getting a ticket at all while I had it, for something more sedate and 'wallop' ticket first trip out. I shall have to employ one of those chaps to walk in front with a red flag although he'd need to be a bit nippy for when I travel the M62.