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Signing Out...off 'tramping'!


Timbo

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And while I'm on the subject coffin dodgers , and those in Gods waiting room when the speed limit is 50 do 50 if not you should be persecuted as much as the speeder oh and you lot with the little dog in the back window. You might not have to be anywhere on time but others do

Rant over :wave

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One of the wonderful things about being a Granddad to a rather smart little girl is hearing her read to you. Especially as when she reads, she affects the voices of the various characters. Much to my amusement when my Granddaughter Grace reads aloud all of the Princesses have American drawls and anyone that is a cook, chef or waitress has a Manchester accent. What's not so great is being fleeced for forty quid on the sponsored read.
“Timbo I've learned a new word!” says Gracie.
“What's that?” I ask.
“Millionaire!” says Gracie
Fat chance!

Soon to be a 'BIG FIVE' we collected Grace from the playground of the main school today as the teaching staff prepare the little ones for moving up a class next year. Consequently, everything I had packed into the car ready to take down to Norfolk in anticipation of a quick getaway in the morning has had to be removed. This turned out to be a good thing as I discovered Watson had left a bag of frozen peas, we used to chill the beer, in the cool box for the week.

Amid talk on the forum of CO alarms, I've been plagued by every alarm going off in my flat today. I know the reason for this. I'm smoking a new pan. After last weekend's camp, I discovered the swish camping stove I bought was faulty. As the campsite provide a brazier I purchased a cast iron frying pan more suitable for an open fire. The trick with these things is to season them with bacon fat and then bake the pan in the oven. Once that is done you need to treat the bottom. This time smear washing up liquid over the outside of the pan and bake it again. The result is a cast iron pan that is non-stick on the inside and from which the soot will immediately wipe away from the outside. Just remember to reapply the washing up liquid and dry it out over the embers of the fire before cooking with it again.

So checking the weather for the weekend on the BBC I noticed a large wet and windy shower. I realised I was watching the election results by mistake. Now that does age me when I taught a good proportion of the Westminster Chinless remedial history so they could obtain a degree. Turning onto the actual weather forecast it looks as though I'm going to be shower dodging most of Friday while I travel down and pitch the tent.

Just a few last bits to pack in the morning, I mustn't forget the spalted beech for WildFuzz...and I'm ready to go tramping again. Greyhound Stuart?

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Just now, Timbo said:

One of the wonderful things about being a Granddad to a rather smart little girl is hearing her read to you. Especially as when she reads, she affects the voices of the various characters. Much to my amusement when my Granddaughter Grace reads aloud all of the Princesses have American drawls and anyone that is a cook, chef or waitress has a Manchester accent. What's not so great is being fleeced for forty quid on the sponsored read.
“Timbo I've learned a new word!” says Gracie.
“What's that?” I ask.
“Millionaire!” says Gracie
Fat chance!

Soon to be a 'BIG FIVE' we collected Grace from the playground of the main school today as the teaching staff prepare the little ones for moving up a class next year. Consequently, everything I had packed into the car ready to take down to Norfolk in anticipation of a quick getaway in the morning has had to be removed. This turned out to be a good thing as I discovered Watson had left a bag of frozen peas, we used to chill the beer, in the cool box for the week.

Amid talk on the forum of CO alarms, I've been plagued by every alarm going off in my flat today. I know the reason for this. I'm smoking a new pan. After last weekend's camp, I discovered the swish camping stove I bought was faulty. As the campsite provide a brazier I purchased a cast iron frying pan more suitable for an open fire. The trick with these things is to season them with bacon fat and then bake the pan in the oven. Once that is done you need to treat the bottom. This time smear washing up liquid over the outside of the pan and bake it again. The result is a cast iron pan that is non-stick on the inside and from which the soot will immediately wipe away from the outside. Just remember to reapply the washing up liquid and dry it out over the embers of the fire before cooking with it again.

So checking the weather for the weekend on the BBC I noticed a large wet and windy shower. I realised I was watching the election results by mistake. Now that does age me when I taught a good proportion of the Westminster Chinless remedial history so they could obtain a degree. Turning onto the actual weather forecast it looks as though I'm going to be shower dodging most of Friday while I travel down and pitch the tent.

Just a few last bits to pack in the morning, I mustn't forget the spalted beech for WildFuzz...and I'm ready to go tramping again. Greyhound Stuart?

Carefull Timbo you will get modded again :wave

 

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On Friday I went to the Norfolk Broads to work on my wooden boat Royal Tudor. I went by car. I stayed in a tent. I did some sanding. I had a trip on a vintage wooden boat with my friends. I had my dinner in the Greyhound Pub. On Saturday I did some more sanding. I had my dinner in the Greyhound pub. I had a drink and a chat with my friend. I came home again on Sunday by car. That's all I have to say about that.

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4 minutes ago, Timbo said:

On Friday I went to the Norfolk Broads to work on my wooden boat Royal Tudor. I went by car. I stayed in a tent. I did some sanding. I had a trip on a vintage wooden boat with my friends. I had my dinner in the Greyhound Pub. On Saturday I did some more sanding. I had my dinner in the Greyhound pub. I had a drink and a chat with my friend. I came home again on Sunday by car. That's all I have to say about that.

enough said!

 

 

Carole

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34 minutes ago, Timbo said:

On Friday I went to the Norfolk Broads to work on my wooden boat Royal Tudor. I went by car. I stayed in a tent. I did some sanding. I had a trip on a vintage wooden boat with my friends. I had my dinner in the Greyhound Pub. On Saturday I did some more sanding. I had my dinner in the Greyhound pub. I had a drink and a chat with my friend. I came home again on Sunday by car. That's all I have to say about that.

I would like to report this post as I think someone has hacked Timbo's log in.

Doug.

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Sir. I am outraged at the amount of alcohol you seem to be recklessly drinking. Further the irresponsibility of sanding a wooden boat on a daily basis just has to be considered beyond the pale.

Do you have any idea how much Co Co2 and other greenhouse gasses you have released into OUR atmosphere with these frequent trips you have been making?

I find your post utterly appalling and your conduct reprehensible. I shall be writing to my MP forthwith.

I remain sir, your most obedient servant , MM.   

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On Friday I went to the Norfolk* Broads** to work on my wooden boat*** Royal Tudor****. I went by car*****. I stayed in a tent******. I did some sanding*******. I had a trip on a vintage******** wooden boat********* with my friends**********. I had my dinner in the Greyhound Pub***********. On Saturday************ I did some more sanding. I had my dinner in the Greyhound************* pub. I had a drink and a chat with my friend**************. I came home again on Sunday*************** by car. That's all I have to say about that.

 

*Other counties are available to visit and I do not imply that Norfolk is a better destination to the detriment of any other county.

**There are other places to visit in Norfolk and I do not imply the denigration of other areas of Norfolk by my choice in visiting the Broads.

***Wood is just one material used in the construction of boats and I fully appreciate the worthiness of other materials which can be used in the construction of boats.

****Other names for boats are available. In keeping the original name of my boat I have not sort to actively discriminate against other names nor do I voice publicly my personal views on the choice of any constitutional socio-economic system to the detriment of another.

*****Other forms of transport are available and my choice in transport does not reflect any discrimination towards those other forms of transport on my part.

******Other forms of accommodation are available and it is not my intention to discriminate or exclude the use those forms of accommodation.

*******Other jobs are available and my choice in 'sanding' was made to ensure each job is given it's full allotment of my time and attention to avoid exclusion, however, I accept that I discriminated against other jobs based on their importance.

********I am aware that boats can be any number of years old and new boats are of equal value and importance as old boats.
*********The choice of a wooden boat by friends is not an indication that I actively encourage the promotion of wooden boats over boats made of any other material.

**********Other friends are available and I did not discriminate between my friends on grounds of gender, creed, colour or Nationality.

***********Other pubs are available and my decision was based upon both a biological need for sustenance and a need for a pub in a local area due to a shortage of fuel for my vehicle.

************Other days of the week are available and it was not my intention to discriminate, however, doctor I may be, but I still cannot get around the temporal nature of the calendar.

************* See *********** above.

************** See ********** above.

***************See ************above.

 

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Tim, just post your normal waffle and accept the public flagellation in the stocks from time to time when your prose and rhetoric stray a bit wide of the mark, your censored posts are no joy whatsoever, they come across like my diaries were written wnen I was 13 - got up, had breakfast - went to school- came home - had tea - went to bed. I am sure even shakespeare wrote some risque material.

ps just use long words and people will not flocinaucinihiliphicate.

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Please Tim if you are going to insist on being in the PC correct brigade, have the decency to translate into non PC for the political luddites (me) on here!

One po-faced complainant, who has probably never been near the A17, should not make a forum make.

Anyway they still have the man walking in front of a motorised vehicle.

A17 limit is 40 mph never mind what the road speed says, god knows what would happen if the A17 was made a motorway.

paul

ps. to shock you all I got a 2 week ban for doing 126-132 miles/hour, just glad I decided not to lose the unmarked Volvo behind me, which the car I had would have done.

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Oh alright, I will relent...

I love maps. Cartography of all kinds has always fascinated me. This fascination has only increased with the new applications available for my mobile and computer. Before setting off for Norfolk on Friday morning, I consulted the BBC weather reports. Of course, the BBC is London and South Coast-centric, so I reached for my phone and my 'Dark Skies' application. This 'app' is one of the best when it comes to weather, tracking cloud formations via satellite. With the help of Dark Skies, I plotted my journey to time my arrival at the campsite before a torrential downpour.

First, however, I dropped granddaughter Gracie off at school, took Ellie to the shops and arrived back at home just as George, my cleaning lady arrived. While I pottered around trying to locate items I still had to pack, George kept 'putting them away'. Still, while I clattered around the flat looking for things that 'were there a minute ago' George kept me supplied with regular cups of coffee. Eventually, I was ready to leave, if only I could find my car keys!

With Lincoln Cathedral sat on its promontory, it does look a bit like Minis Tirith, I encountered the first complete plonker, other than me, on the roads that day. White Van Man. This idiot decided to overtake a long line of traffic approaching a small tight roundabout. After giving the cars in the queue the finger, he promptly ran straight into the roundabout removing his offside front wheel in the process.

I enjoyed the way in which every car in the queue wound down their windows and passed a comment to White Van Man. I borrowed mine from Martin and Malanka. Something along the lines of 'Oxygen Thief'.

I enjoyed listening to the radio coverage of the previous day's general election. The commentators on Radio 5 were almost jubilant to diss the chinless at Westminster now that it seemed they were free 'er' from their stranglehold of the BBC.

 I have something in common with Jeremy Clarkson. Well, two things in common with Jeremy Clarkson. We are both from Donny, and I detest caravans and camper vans too.

A small shower of rain meant I was getting behind schedule and had clipped a bank of cloud, putting my boot down I gave the assorted caravans the slip at the elephant poop before Sutton Bridge. In what seemed like no time at all I was at Acle but still a little behind on my timings as I encountered a somewhat stiffer shower of rain.

The other side of Acle and the roads were bone dry in the shimmering intense heat of how a proper summer should look. By now I was listening to the cricket and loath to miss the rest of the match, but I was arriving at the Hickling Campsite.

Watson has never been a boy scout. Nothing to do with his shirt lap, it's hit knot tying abilities that are suspect. The previous weekend I'd shown him how to tie a simple overhand knot in the guylines. Of course, as I raced the oncoming rain clouds I was struggling with untangling Watson's spaghetti knots. Eventually, I had them free and managed to get the outer tent erected as huge drops of rain plummeted from the sky and drummed a toccata on the car roof. This is the moment that I realised I'd left my car window open as well as the car boot and my pillow was now soaked.

As quickly as it started the rain stopped and was replaced by searing heat from a summer sun. Using the towel, I keep in the car for the 'Beagle Brothers' I wiped the water from the lid of the car boot, opened it and spread out my bedding to bake dry in the sun. I then went about setting up the rest of my camp. Finally with the bedding dry and my bed made ready for later I headed off to Martham for a few hours work on Royal Tudor.

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1 hour ago, imtamping2 said:

Ladies and gentlemen........ Normal service has resumed..........cheersbar

Erm... Timbo Normal? :D:D:D

6 hours ago, Vaughan said:

What's so special about wooden boats then?

 

Vaughan, honestly!!!  :facepalm:

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Arriving at Martham, I secured the purchase of a new sh black -water tank for RT. Fortunately, Martham had a second-hand one available. After some 'conflab' between Doug and I and Doug's statement that 'we'll make it fit and it will save some money.' made the decision easy.

Once inside the shed, I made coffee and broke out the orbital and delta sanders. I'm afraid all of the work this weekend has been yet more sanding. Picking up where we left off on Sunday where I completed sanding the starboard side I now started on the port cabin side.

After an hour I took another coffee break and noticed a missed phone call from Doug. Telephone reception at Martham is even more sporadic than the rest of The Broads. However, I have discovered that if I leave my phone by a particular girder in the shed, I will occasionally get enough signal to receive an incoming message. To make a call, I have discovered one particular spot in the carpark where with a little manoeuvring, similar to a pirate in search of treasure, I can get three bars of signal. With the offer of a trip above 'that bridge' aboard Nipper on offer, I got my nose back to the grindstone to finish the section I had set as a goal for Friday night. Apart from which, ever since Ellie relinquished put Doug in charge, he does drop in on me and does spot checks to make sure I'm working, and he gives me homework!

Emerging from the sheds I tried to get rid of the worst of the sanding dust. Social etiquette tip here, avoid breaking wind after sanding a boat. Your dust free nether regions are a dead give away! Satisfied that I've shed enough dust to no longer resemble a member of the House of Lords, I set off in search of Doug and Hele at Potter Heigham.

Compact and Bijou. I'm fairly sure that's the breed of Doug and Hele's dogs. I'm greeted at Potter by Oby, who is my kind of dog. He's got 'sod pot' written right through him. The sight of Doug carrying Oby under one arm like a set of fuzzy bagpipes after Oby's attempts at absconding to investigate is becoming a familiar one.

The trip along the upper reaches of the Thurne was glorious, bringing back so many memories of my mum, dad and brother. Here was the spot Uncle Albert fell in. There was where mum pointed out the heron that dad swore was plastic until it flew off. Having a knowledgeable local as a guide brings a whole new dimension to cruising. As does being a member of the forum and getting to know the people of Broadland. After a very pleasant trip, I won't mention Hele's near decapitation, all too soon it was time to get back into my car and head back to my tent for a shower and a bite to eat.

After a 'Various Pie' at the Greyhound, I sat with a beer in front of my campfire. Exhausted I was more than ready for bed. So finishing the beer, I climbed into my sleeping bag sandwiched in a duvet with a fleece blanket laid on top of the inflatable mattress. I was asleep in seconds.

There are pillocks to be found everywhere. I was woken at 2 am by the sound of a car alarm going off on the pitch next to mine. Not once, not twice, not even three times but at regular intervals over the next three-quarters of an hour. Returning from the pub the twonk next door had tried to open his car, set off the alarm, and could not find his keys.  By 2:45 am I was wide awake and annoyed.

I have trouble sleeping most nights. At home, I have found a cure for my insomnia. I listen to Karl Pilkington, Ricky Gervais and Steven Merchant on YouTube, drifting off to sleep to a mixture of Monkey News and Cheeky Freak of the Week. In a tent in Norfolk with no internet, I had no chance of getting back to sleep. So I dragged out the camp stove, boiled the kettle and made a cup of tea and laid in the tent doorway to watch the sunrise. I woke up at 5:30 am ready for another day's work.

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25 minutes ago, YnysMon said:

p.s. ... various pie?

Sorry, Helen a spot of Uncle Albert speak slipped in there. I'm sure you are not old enough to remember the early days of British Pub Grub, but the menu's always seemed to include the listing 'various homemade pies'. This eventually became the frequent entry on modern pub menu's of 'Pie of the Day'. Forever enshrined in Uncle Albert speak as 'Various Pie'. He never asked what the pie of the day was, just ordered a 'various pie please'.  In this instance, it was Ham, Chicken and Leek with what seemed to be a beef gravy. Looked odd, tasted fine.

I will point out that Norfolk was responsible for turning Uncle Albert into a lager lout. He used to be a confirmed bitter drinker until we visited the Maltsters in Ranworth around 1978. He asked the barman what bitter they had adding the question 'what do the locals drink?'.
"Witches Brew!" said the barman and pulled Uncle Albert a pint.
"More like Witch P***" spluttered Uncle Albert as he took a swallow and spat it back into the glass.

From that day on he always drank lager. Of course, as an insulin dependent diabetic, he drank the brand where most of the sugar was turned to alcohol. Lots of it!

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A great read Timbo. I was actually in the shed Sunday last looking at my friends' boat Emily B she is under the end window behind you. RT is taking shape now isn't she, Like with Emily once you get that first under coat on you can see where you need to fair in with more filler. Job well done my friend. 

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My memories of early pub grub in the 70s seems to be firmly stuck in the 'chicken in a basket' rut. You must remember that I come from Anglesey where they stuck to the 'pubs closed on Sunday' rule until the bitter end.

I don't remember seeing the inside of a pub until I was about 11, and that was limited to the newly family orientated pubs that we're opening. I suspect that some of the hostelries in Holyhead had been fairly rough around the edges...it being a port and all that. Mind you, one of my great-great grandads was an innkeeper. (Maybe that's why my grandad didn't drink much alcohol.)  He had been landlord of The Spread Eagle, a coaching inn long gone. My Mum told me that he as also the town crier and the caretaker of the market hall. She used to have the bell that he had used as town crier which had his name inscribed on it. I was most annoyed that she gave the bell away to a cousin of mine. At least I still have the clock that was originally from the inn. I naturally call it my great-great grandfather clock.

Sorry...slight meander there into some family and local history, thought you might be interested. 

Helen

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