Signing Out...off 'tramping'!

[Timbo]

A clean, hot shower at 5:30 in the morning is just the tonic after a sleepless night under canvas in a field. After the shower, I put on the kettle. Stupid thing to do really as what I was aiming for was 'trousers', so taking off the kettle I put on my trousers and then put the kettle on to boil to make Twinings Extra Strong English Breakfast Tea.

Across the field, a lady with four kids shot out of their tent. Their greyhound had escaped the tent and gone missing. As they walked around the campsite whistling and shouting (waking the noisy numpties from the previous night so I didn't have to), I caught a quick glimpse of the dog shadowing the family over the other side of the fence. I hobbled over and alerted the family, but by this time there was no sign of the dog.
"If you catch her..." started the woman before noticing the stick and my slow and wobbly progress back to the tent.

You see it takes me several hours to get everything working in the morning. The effects of a stroke, in my case, go something like this:

The brain injury caused by my initial bleed on my first stroke way back in 2001 was quite extensive. The whole of my left-hand side was affected. Now to someone who's not experienced this, and I wouldn't wish it on anyone when I say 'the whole' I mean everything. Sight, muscles and not just the ones that control speech and movement but the ones that effect bladder, etc., all stop working. There are some curious oddities to contend with such as speaking Arabic when my speech started to come back. This quickly shifted to Latin before finally settling on English. I've only discovered I had reverted to the thick Yorkshire accent I had before I attended college. Getting my brain to function is one of the hardest tasks in the morning. For example, I'm naturally sinister, and by that, I mean left handed. But that hand doesn't work; there has to be a distinct change in thought. I suppose it's like rubbing your stomach, patting your head, turning one foot clockwise and the other anti-clockwise all at the same time.

Walking, while natural for some, is a matter of conscious thought for me. I have to remember to 'think' move your left leg. Otherwise, it does not move.  It takes some time and a little contemplation to get everything working. So on occasion, I might seem rude by not replying if asked a question, or sulky. I do not intend to be so; it's just that there are so many things I'm thinking about. Back with the rubbing the head analogy, so you have the pat, the rub and both feet turning in opposite directions and some bugger asks a question which is tantamount to throwing three chainsaws at you to juggle. I tire quickly and seem as though I'm drunk. Slowly I start to drop the chainsaws; the legs go whichever way they want, so do the arms, the speech becomes slurred, I can't think of the word I wanted to use. I start to become confused, and when I'm really tired, the head twitches and the mouth sags back into its now usual downward position.

Now then, this is not some call for sympathy, nor a problem with low self-esteem. Oh no, I know I'm drop dead gorgeous. This is the reason why Geroge Clooney and Brad Pit stay the hell away from Lincolnshire. Can't stand the competition. No, this is in answer to the question of 'what's it like' I was asked by someone over the weekend.

After running down my checklist, taking my pills and potions, and waiting for them to kick in, I'm the first customer of the morning for the 'chuck waggon' at Potter Heigham. Bacon, sausage, egg and mushroom washed down with two cups of coffee. Now I'm running on 'nuclear'.

21 minutes ago, YnysMon said:

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

Meander away Helen it's good interesting stuff! 

[Timbo]

Preparing as best I can to go tramping as I'm not feeling tickety-boo. Decidedly 'not so pukka'! After a Father's Day Weekend with a visit from my daughter when it should have been a chance to take it easy, I'm more tired than I was when it started. Of course, the yearly contest between Ellie and myself on one side and the grass and hedges on the other is under way. I think we are two one down with a shoddy midfield and suspect defence. Someone's in for a 'Brian Clough' at half time!

Taking the father in law, Ben Gunn, to the airport on Saturday meant that not only did I have a flat full of my daughter and all of her belongings I also had to empty all of the tramping gear out of the car. George my cleaning lady arrived this morning and is currently undertaking an 'Up Bung and Stuff' exercise, as Uncle Albert referred to housework. Of course, this means that come the weekend I'm not going to be able to find half the stuff I'm going to want with me.

The brain and eyesight this morning was playing silly tricks. Walking 'The Boys' through the woods I could have sworn I saw a Dilong paradoxus  or tiny Tyrannosaurus running between the trees. Turns out it was nothing but a squirrel running along carrying something in its front paws. The Boys stood looking at me as though I was mental, which by now you have probably realised I am.

A small spot of excitement this morning if like me you get enthused over the delivery of some nice timber to build new stern doors for your boat. Eight planks of 8' x 8" x 3/4" Sapele with some quite beautiful figuring. The building of RT's stern doors will probably be the most complicated bit of joinery I've undertaken. I'm really looking forward to it. In the past, RT had a sliding door. Originally a solid plywood affair. More recently what I thought was a white metal door with a window. Turns out the door was plywood spray painted white. Her new doors will be double bi-fold doors, with windows in the top of each of the four doors and a panel at the bottom. So that's two doors, each made up of two hinged doors. Here's hoping I can make a really good job of it!

I still have window rail mouldings to cut on the table saw. I'm hoping to tackle this tomorrow, weather and chores permitting. But first, a coffee and a sort through the new lumber to see which bits will make frames and which bits will be the panels. I'm sorry folks but I can't enthuse about a section of plastic like I can some decent lumber.

 

[grendel]

surely with that width of timber each panel can just be cut from a single plank

[Timbo]

30 minutes ago, grendel said:

surely with that width of timber each panel can just be cut from a single plank

All the books and videos I've watched Grendel tell me that, particularly in a marine environment, if I make the panel from a single piece it will warp and twist all over the place within a few months. Now it may or may not be the case, but I'm going to follow the advice and make each panel from two pieces flipping one board so that the grain runs in opposite directions. Apparently, the boards will hold each other straight if I do this.

Uncle Albert bought me a copy of the Boat Building Manual last year.

Available from Amazon.

Although aimed at the Americans, and forty years old, it is full of some fascinating updated information. Some of the techniques I've come across elsewhere are explained in a 'this is how it's done' kind of way. But in this book there usually an explanation of 'why this is how it's done'.

[Wildfuzz]

When ever I join boards marine or otherwise I always join (biscuits) so the growth rings are opposite on each board, this way even with thin timber the twisting counter acts each other and they stay flay. this was a wand stand for a friends Harry Potter "weapon" collection, a nice piece of figured oak, I think it looks like a couple of dementors in the grain pattern.......

[teadaemon]

Steward is a set text for most traditional wooden boatbuilding courses around the world (along with Boatbuilding by Howard Chappelle and Yacht Construction by K.H.C. Jurd), indeed it was for my surveying diploma too.

For the kind of work you'll mostly be doing, I can strongly recommend Boat Joinery & Cabinet Making Simplified by Fred Bingham. Like most books on this subject on the market, it's American, but that's just a reflection of the much larger audience for a fairly specialist subject available on the other side of the Atlantic.

If you haven't already found it, I can also recommend bookfinder.com . If you know what book you're looking for (Amazon is much better for browsing and reading reviews first), it will aggregate search results from pretty much all of the major (and quite a few of the minor) online booksellers, and easily show you the best deal for buying new or second hand.

[Timbo]

Coughing, peffing and grebbing are rampant in the doctor's surgery. It sounds worse than a tramps shelter.
"I can't help it!" croaks Ellie from behind swollen eyes "I've got bronchitis" she wheezes.
She does look decidedly ill. So tramping this weekend has been postponed until tomorrow. Instead, I was forced to watch the Poseidon Adventure remake with Ellie while the Boys cuddled up to her occasionally leaping to their feet in alarm whenever she coughs.

Watson will be joining me at Timbo Towers first thing in the morning after I've made sure Ellie is comfortable and the 'Boys' have been walked, fed and watered. We will then travel to Norfolk in convoy. Ooh, perhaps we could get in front of a tractor, caravan or Lorry and slow down to an exasperating crawl?

[Polly]

I know what you mean about conscious walking Tim, after an attention-seeking spell with Tetanus, involving several weeks on life-support, I had to learn to walk again, it was surprisingly difficult.

NB Anti tetanus jabs are a much better idea.

[Malanka]

We have refered to that shoop as La-Tharms for many years, as does Charlie Dolphin. It reminds Fiona and myself of the "Emporium" in Maldon where we lived before moving to Germany in 2003. The Emporium and La-Tharms are shops where you "pop in" to buy some super glue (other adhesive products are available) and end up leaving with a dining room table and six chairs (yes we did that), fire damaged stock out the back still in its box. La-Tharms is also useful when one wants to buy a plastic Heron as one does from time to time, mainly to deter the flying fish thieves from eating our fish in the pond (after we had moved to Belgium). Latterly La-Tharms has been a stop off just to peruse the endless shelves of sometimes useless "stuff" available in three colours and four sizes which you didn't conceive could possibly exist prior to entering the establishment. Normally I stand outside with the mighty Boris and answer the same question 50 times from Northern Origin pensioners out for the day. " you don't see many of those about these days" do you ? Well yes actually we do, we have two of them have owned Airedales for 25 years and love the little devils (ok not so little). If my daughter overhears me she comments universally with "why do you speak with a Northern Accent dad". "Cos I'm from the north hun" I reply, this never satisfies her and all the many hours practicing communications theory to get the mesage across goes out the window along with " you shout when you're on the phone in the car too dad".

So I just give up..    

 

La-Tharms is a source of some cushions for Malanka and the odd pillow here and there. Various other arty crafty stuff that Fiona comes back with too. No super glue of course but such is life.

 

Can't wait to see you all too. When is RT due to get her bottom wet by the way?

 

Very excited here as we pick up our new car at 5.0 pm today (new to us that is)

[Victoryv]

I don't go in Lat-hams unless forced, I prefer to stand and wait by the back door and make up entertaining (to me) scenarios about what people buy, last time I was there, one very wet sunday, a portly lady came out with a thousand piece jigsaw and a metre long pack of jaffa cakes, well thats her wet sunday afternoon taken care of I thought!

[Timbo]

Signed out... Signed back in again. All ready to set off to go tramping when Ellie makes a last minute plea to go and cut Ben Gun's grass. Driving back from Lincoln I got a headache. Arrived home and I was given the beagle test. Failed the beagle test so have spent five hours asleep in bed with the ginger ninjas watching over me. Will try to get down to Norfolk early Saturday morning now. 

[Vaughan]

Take it slow and steady, Timbo. The Broads will still be there when you arrive!

[Polly]

We won't get there until Sunday, so you will be ahead of us.

[Timbo]

I have to admit that my get up and go had 'got up and gone'. It took quite a bit of 'girding' of various bits of anatomy to get me out of the door with camping gear in the car and on the road to Norfolk. My first attempt had been unsuccessful my pitch booking refunded due to a booking error. So after trawling the net, I found a new campsite, this time at Repps.

The journey down was uneventful, barring the odd two wheeled leather clad idiot, under the impression I should drive in the ditch to accommodate their mid life crisis. My own being big enough to contend with I pootled along driving to the limit and the law.

I have very little in common with Jeremy Clarkson. One thing we do share is a dislike of caravans. Dreadful things. The campsite, split into two parts straddling the road to the staithe, had caravans and the toilet block on one side of the road and tent pitches the other. All very clean and tidy, but the caravans lent a decided 1970's air to everything. All swing ball and Elsan.

The tent quickly pitched, and my brand new fisherman's bed-chair installed I headed to the boat yard to check on Royal Tudor. After which it was off to the Wayford Inn for a slap up meal and an early night.

To say my new bed-chair was comfortable would be an understatement. So cossetted was I in my bed that I overlaid and did not surface the following morning until 8:15 am. So with my washbag under one arm, I went to join the queue of caravanners waiting for the ablution block. The nostalgic 1950's, 60's and 70's was very much to the forefront, an 'orchestral romp' on autoplay in my mind, as I joined the pyjamaed throng.

The idea of communal ablutions is not something new to me. But a life spent on various digs, RN camps and universities only partially prepared me for what followed. My progress through the three 'S's accompanied by a cacophony of farts, plops, coughs, whistles, harrumphs, squeaks and quacks from fellow campers. What a horrible noise! Imagine a farmyard animal impersonation conference. Do these ridiculous sounds issue from the woman's toilet block?

A true 'Carry-On' moment ensued one morning. Chatting to a couple in a neighbouring tent one morning I discovered the pair to be keen bird watchers. As the chap surveyed the horizon through his binoculars a cormorant flapped across the skyline. At the same moment from an opposite camper van, a lithe young lady dressed only in her underwear stepped into the morning sunlight and stretched languorously.
"Ooh shag!" exclaimed the birdwatcher.
I swear I could hear Sid James' laugh!

Caravanners seem to be early risers...probably from being in a caravan, so the ablution fiasco continued for the rest of the week even on mornings when I arose at my usual time of 5:30 am. As the work I was doing on Royal Tudor was exceptionally dirty (see Tudor Reformation Post), I also spent considerable time in the ablution block in the evenings!

Although unable to make either the Wooden Boat Association Meet at Beccles or the birthday bash at Salhouse this coming weekend, I did find chance through the week to catch up with a few old friends. As much as the dodgy phone signal allowed, I received updates of where everyone was heading and mooring for the night. I caught up with Uncle Mike and Aunty Pat on board Chameleon at Potter Heigham for a cup of tea and to resolve a problem I was having with the work on Royal Tudor.

I spent an enjoyable last night on Thursday over drinks with Doug and Hele and Polly and family. With the campsite being a short walk from Repps Staithe, after a shower and quick change, Doug collected me from the staithe on board Nipper...now that is a beautiful boat! At the end of the evening, I had a brisk but enjoyable lurch along the river bank back to the tent.

My journey home on Friday was shocking. Approaching the straight before Sutton Bridge, I discovered long queues of traffic. As one driver coming in the opposite direction made circular motions with an upraised hand, my sat nav and radio kicked in to tell me the road was closed from both directions due to a motorcycle colliding with a car. I turned my car around and headed back to the roundabout and Peterborough. Once again my sat nav chimed to tell me of an accident at Peterborough and once again rerouted me, this time through Wisbeach. Two and a half hours sat in traffic negotiating Wisbeach and eventually I was back on the A17 and heading for Sleaford, legs plaited.

Home again...to be greeted by Toby (Beagle number 2). Dylan (beagle number 1) was ignoring me, giving me the silent treatment as punishment for leaving him behind. It took him until gone eleven last night for him to finally shove his fat face in mine and make sure I was okay. 

This morning I decided I may just have to use the camp-bed at home as it is far more comfortable than my bed. Finally into my bathroom where I could fart, plop, cough, whistle, harrumph, squeak and quack to my heart's content in private!

[grendel]

2 hours ago, Timbo said:

This morning I decided I may just have to use the camp-bed at home as it is far more comfortable than my bed. Finally into my bathroom where I could fart, plop, cough, whistle, harrumph, squeak and quack to my heart's content in private!

that explains the noises in the ablution block, a conversation was being held in camperablutionese, a series of challenges and counter challenges

[Timbo]

Well I'm tramping again... Spent a very enjoyable time with Brundall Navy and Wildfuzz in the Greyhound. Now sitting by the campfire enjoying a cigar, Cuban, with a Rioja and which although cheeky is not quite impertinent! 

[Regulo]

On 08/06/2017 at 07:08, Timbo said:

 I don't have a problem being described as a cripple, proud to be classed as an idiot by MM and Ray,

You are in a higher class of idiocy, Timbo. I bow down before you and give due reverence.

On 26/08/2017 at 09:22, Timbo said:

Finally into my bathroom where I could fart, plop, cough, whistle, harrumph, squeak and quack to my heart's content in private!

As an aside to the thread, the radio on Sunbird has died. Rene and I will be on our 2 week autumn break in a couple of weeks. Order from herself - "Get a new radio before we go away, I need one to drown out the noise of you in the toilet in the morning". Charming, I'm sure. Still, better than having her sing to cover my "noises"! 

[unclemike]

On 26/08/2017 at 09:22, Timbo said:

I caught up with Uncle Mike and Aunty Pat on board Chameleon at Potter Heigham for a cup of tea and to resolve a problem I was having with the work on Royal Tudor.

there we were enjoying a quiet cup of tea when up rolled this dirty dishevelled figure,thought it was a tramp on the scrounge, nope just timbo after a free cuppa

[NeilB]

If you ever need another campsite the Old Vicarage in Moulton St Mary is very good and has open fire braziers you can cook on.  The composting toilets do not smell, just don't look down!  Pictures below are of it fully booked, owner keeps numbers down and there was never a queue for a shower.

Spent 2 nights there with my 2 eldest same time you were at Repps, I could have arranged some child labour for you ! 

[Timbo]

There has been much talk of late regarding antisocial behaviour on The Broads. Sadly I can report that this is not just confined to boating and appears to be pervasive in all aspects of the holiday in Broadland.

Over the last few years, due to Royal Tudor being parked on six oil drums in sheds between Wayford and Martham while I conduct her restoration, I've become acquainted with a part of the Norfolk Broads that, as a holiday maker, you don't often see. Talking to a bloke in the Greyhound on Thursday night he commented that 'you are so lucky living here'. He was surprised to discover that I don't live in Norfolk, just a frequent visitor. So in these last years I've stayed in hotels, Bed and Breakfast as well as tramped under canvas, I don't do caravans-not ever, so I suppose I get to see Broads Holiday makers of all shapes, sizes and interests.

I think many members of the NBN would be surprised to discover just how many visitors to The Broads know nothing about the boating side of things. Over this last year I've had conversations with quite a few visitors about holiday choices. It's usually the sight of me returning to the camp or hotel covered in oil, grease, undercoat and splotches of paint with a liberal coating of sanding dust and sporting a pair of size 12 steel toe-capped boots that intrigues them. Part of the time I'm sure that they think they have discovered Andy Cap's Grandson, or I'm wearing 'Northern National Dress'.

Andrew and Vaughan expressed a concern at the Spring Meet as to the lack of young people both at the meet and out and about on the Broads. The kids are still coming on holiday to The Broads, they are just not boating. The campsites are stuffed to the gunnel's with families. Judging by the number of Range Rover's, Mercedes and BMW's parked by the tents, they are not short of a bob or two. Chatting with them, I do get the very distinct impression that the boatyards have priced themselves out of the market. Take the average price of a weeks hire and the family can buy all the necessary camping equipment, pay their camp fees, eat out all week and visit other aspects of the Norfolk holiday and still have some change.

For most of this summer my base has been at Hickling. I'm one of life's 'inspector's of hedge backs' it comes from being a landscape archaeologist and a country boy. I know my mangles from beet and wheat from oats and barley. I also take an interest in wildlife of all kinds. So imagine my surprise to discover that...in two years I've only come across two couples who had specifically come to view wildlife? The first couple I met had come to see an otter. They had spent two weeks visiting nature reserves all over The Broads and had not seen a single one. I met the couple over breakfast at the Wayford Inn on their last morning before their journey home. So, being a decent sort of chap I took them through the car park and down to the river by the bridge and pointed to the otters sporting and catching fish.

All of this year I have been keeping an ear out for mention of 'National Park' amongst tourists. Nothing. Nada. Not a sausage. Talk to them about it and they have never heard of it. Ask them their reasons for visiting and it comes down to two things. Boats and cheap family holidays with access to the coast. 'Family time' is something you hear a lot of. A chance to unwind, unplug and play footie with the kids.

So I was extremely perturbed to find that upon my return to my tent on Friday that someone had been 'mucking about'. All of the zips were undone, someone had been laid on my camp bed and my wicker hamper that I keep the food in had been unbuckled. Friday night was abysmal with drunk women braying with laughter until three am and some twonk playing the bongos until two am. Arriving back at the tent on Saturday tea time someone had piddled all over the back of it. It stank! I took down the tent, packed the car and drove home, arriving back in Lincolnshire at around 9:45pm.

So tramping...yes I'm back next week. But I'm leaving nothing in my tent!

[Wildfuzz]

Hmmmmm not a good advert for my home village, but being only a stones throw from your campsite I didn't hear anything, there was a "do" at the barn with the usual drunken braying at the end, I guess you must be in a "lower" postcode than myself................. Still, peeing on someone's tent is a step too far, wire it up to the mains, that`ll stop them!!!!!!

[ChrisB]

I am very sorry to hear this. There seems to have been an escalation in anti-social behaviour in Norfolk this year.

I wonder if it is because of the sorry state of the pound, that the type of person who has given certain resorts in mainland Spain, Ibiza and Cyprus the reputation that decent folk and families now stay away, is staying at home but wish to behave in the same fashion.

Norfolk tends to be cheaper than alot of other holiday areas, maybe they look for that leaving more to spend on getting legless. I don't know but it is a trend none of us wish to see be it we residents or genuine visitors.

 

[TheQ]

I've just for the first time read this thread, Reading your comments bring the thread to life. Especially having spent so much time on the A47 /A17 in my life.

We were at one point in the thread just a few feet away from each other, you were stuffing yourself in the pleasure boat, while I, and 3 three others, were  sat in a motor boat on the end of the Sailing clubs pontoons counting them round the buoy on the 3RR. If you are there next year come over for a chat!!

Your wood work is a better standard than anything I have the patience to achieve, which is one of the reasons I've a fibreglass boat....

[grendel]

when I came to the spring meet at Salhouse, I was camping at the campsite there, the only other campers were all young things, one tent with 4 girls, and a set of 3 tents of lads (they were separate parties when they arrived) there were some canoeists, but they were all young and fit (its almost a pre-requisite with the campsite nearly a mile from the car park, the older campers seem to prefer easy access to the car, I know it seemed to take forever getting there with a wheelbarrow full (walk 3 minutes - stop- take 5 minutes to get my breath back, and repeat)).

there was some noise at night, what with the lads scouting for firewood, and then the lads and lasses chatting around the fire. when it came time to leave I did have to empty the one wheelbarrow supplied to get your gear to the campsite, the boys group had left it full of their provisions, some bread, bacon and 4 cases of beers, they were all still sleeping off the previous night around the camp fire.

All in all though it seemed quite peaceful there.

[HEM]

10 hours ago, ChrisB said:

the type of person who has given certain resorts in mainland Spain, Ibiza ...

I (we) have had many excellent holidays on Ibiza.  All to the same place (German-speaking) near St. Eularia on the East coast.
11 times with the kids (last time aged 20 & 17!) & twice again with just my wife.  Lots of sports etc.
Our son learnt to play the guitar there.  Our kids never went near a disco...
RIP Club Cala Pada 1.0 - why did they have to hand it over to a big concern & kill the atmosphere?

Anyhow, on at least one occasion whilst waiting for our luggage to appear the neighbouring conveyer belt was obviously for a flight from North of Hadrian's Wall.  I felt really sorry for the poor kids - their parents had obviously gone for "in-flight refuelling" and the kids seemed to be to be surplus to requirements.  In cases like these I don't speak English...