Adventures in Amsterdam and the 'lady with the dog'.

So here I am, back in France again after an enjoyable week home in the Netherlands. Not only did I have fun with my daughter on board Vereeniging, but I also took a trip to Amsterdam to meet up with one of my memoir author friends, Lisa Rose Wright. I have to say this definitely counts as one of this year's highlights because Lisa and I have been online friends for a few years now. We beta read each other's books (beta reading is feedback given by a few sharp-eyed and discerning readers prior to final proofeading) and share a love of rural life as well. I absolutely love Lisa's writing and can recommend her books without reserve. Here's a link to her Amazon page.

Anyway, Lisa and her husband had just completed a cruise down the Rhine from Basel, finishing at Amsterdam from where they were flying back to Galicia (Spain) where they live. It happened to be her husband's birthday, so after meeting them at the station, the three of us set off to find some celebratory coffee and a snack. The only place not overwhelmed with tourists was an entertainment centre, mainly for children, which was surprisingly quiet. Our friendly, obliging waiter admitted he was quite enjoying the tranquillity since most of their usual customers (parties of noisy children) were away on holiday. His good humour was a bonus when S, Lisa's husband, asked if he could have the 'kiddy menu'. It looked, so he claimed, the most enticing of what was on offer. Whether this was true or not, the waiter joined in the spirit of the occasion and presented him with the lunchbox full of goodies, while a colleague brought him a surprise gift: a ball. S was, of course, delighted. Being a gentleman of a certain age comes with equally certain benefits, one of which is the good-humoured indulgence of wait staff.

We spent a lovely few hours chatting about their cruise and the places they'd visited, amongst other subjects of common interest, i.e. books, authors, travel and writing. All too soon it was time for me to catch my train back to Zeeland, from where I headed back to France again two days later.

Meanwhile, Koos had been keeping the flags flying locally by attending the Bastille Day barbecue in our village. He was invited to join when he was passing the gathering on his motor scooter and cajoled into accepting refreshments hot off the grill.

Where was I? they asked. "Ah, she's left me," Koos said to a collective gasp of "Oh, non!" "But she's coming back," he said, and they all laughed. At that point, someone else asked, "Who are you talking about?" and another said, "You know, the lady with the dog!" It seems that Zoe and I are known for our daily walks, but now they even know my name. When Koos called to tell me where he was, there was a delightful crowd cry of 'Bonjour, Valerie' in the background. Isn't that a lovely way to make us feel welcome?

Each day we are here, more and more people stop to chat.  I love it that the old lady opposite is the sister of the former owner of the Crumbly Cottage, Mk 2, and her brother and another sister live just down the road next door to each other; the whole family in this one village. The brother keeps rabbits and chickens and collects grass cuttings to feed them in his pickup truck, which I'm very envious of as it's a double cab model similar to the bakkie I used to have in South Africa. He also has a big German-shepherd type dog that either sits next to him in his bakkie or sticks its nose out through a hole in his garage door as we pass. I have yet to see the whole dog!

There are other dogs in the village, but apart from Colette, whom I've mentioned before, no one else seems to walk their four-pawed friends. Admittedly, they have huge gardens, but the riot from these cooped-up canines when Zoe and I walk down the street suggests that they'd love to join us. Maybe we'll start a trend? Who knows?

On a more personal front, during my absence, the septic tank was emptied and cleaned (a big relief) and we now have proper internet in the house, so blogging will be much easier. Since I came back, we've also managed to dig up all the rusting steel sheets that were  spread across the garden – Koos has cut them into strips so we can now dispose of them – and we've also cleared years of hedge trimmings and garden débris from the lean-to on the side of the house, with huge thanks to daughter 2, Mo, for her incredible help in completing the job.

The top of the septic tank and
the beginning of the steel sheet project

Steel sheets cut, piled up and ready for disposal

The last couple of days have been changeable weather-wise; the sun has been cast aside for some cloudy, rainy weather, so I'll finish now with a couple of pics taken down on the canal side when it was beautifully bright, shiny and warm.

Have a good week allemaal. Living the life in rural France is everything we hoped for. The only improvement would be an open canal, so keep your fingers crossed and I'll be back with more news from the Marne valley soon.

 

Snatching a spuddle

This week, Zoe and I have been back in Zeeland. We came back last Sunday so I could be here for my daughter's birthday. Jo is a Bastille Day baby, born exactly on cue, right in the middle of the summer holiday season. It's always difficult to do anything on her special day as most people are either away or planning to be. Anyway, Mo and I came back up from France so we could have a kind of birthday brunch with her on Sunday. Since then, I've had a lovely few days spending time with her on the Vereeniging. We even managed to have a short spuddle in our tiny rowing boat (bijboot in Dutch), which was absurdly good fun.

At first, Jo was just going to use it to touch up some paint.

"Do you want to get in too?" she asked.

"No, not really. I think it's fine if you do it," I replied.

But then after the job was done, she said, "Well, if you've got some oars, I'd like to go for a row."

"Ha, well in that case, I'm coming too," I said, never one to miss an opportunity for a spuddle, and so I scurried inside to unearth the oars, or rather paddles. Oars is too grand a name for them.

In fact, calling the tiny tender a boat at all is stretching things a bit. It's really designed for two children or one adult at most, but we both managed to climb in and sit cross-legged on the bottom. Armed with a bright yellow paddle each we rowed up and down the harbour around the barges and back again, looking for all the world like a couple of giggling tweenies. It was the most fun I've had on the water this year. I only wish one of us had thought to take a phone and snap a photo; it's a memory worth cherishing, but I'm sure we'll do it again one of these days.

This is a pic of the boat I took when we first got it in 2022, just to give you an idea of how minuscule it is.

What was also special was having Jo spend the night on Vereeniging while I slept on the Hennie H (aka the Shoe). It felt very much like having a mini holiday at home. I had a lovely night once I'd got used to the creaking and squeaking the Shoe made when when she rubbed against the fender on the mooring pole. The wind was blowing quite hard and with the wash from passing barges, the waves travelling up the harbour were quite forceful, resulting in lots of very weird noises. Nevertheless, Zoe remained unperturbed and I ceased to notice it after a time so a good night's sleep was had by all.

Apart from the fun, we've both been doing other jobs: Jo has had her teaching and I've been tidying the garden and collecting tools and supplies to take back to France, so my next post will probably be an update on the situation there. I had an email today suggesting there might be water restrictions in the Haute-Marne, so I'll see  when I get there.

Have a lovely weekend allemaal. May the weather gods remain benevolent to all wherever you are.

Joining the locals in Joinville

Just a quick post this week, mostly pictorial, because I wanted to share images of the morning we spent in Joinville last Saturday.

As I've mentioned before, Joinville is the nearest town to the Crumbly Cottage Mk 2, which is a real bonus for us as we love it there. It's such a delightful place with its narrow, winding streets clinging to the hillside below what remains of the castle. However, the prettiest part of the town is the Quai des Peceaux, a narrow quay lined with charming limestone houses and shops. It runs along the Marne through the centre of Joinville and looks across the river to another row of gorgeous typically French houses whose ancient garden walls dip their footings into the river.

I've noticed before that the Quai des Peceaux is often the location for town events and last Saturday there was a bouquiniste, which is a market for second-hand books. There was also art, photography and music involved and the brass band playing at the end of the Quai was remarkably good. In many cases, the books on display were not just second-hand, but antique too, and we found it fascinating to browse through them.

Koos met a photographer selling books of his own work and was surprised to find they had several mutual Facebook friends, reminding us that the Internet makes the world smaller by the day. 

Anyway, enough of my rambling. The photos below give a better idea of our meanderings along the river.

I forget quite where this was, but it looks like
an old laverie or wash-house. Don't you love
the higgledy-piggledy roof tiles?

Approaching the Quai des Peceaux with the bouqueniste
all set up

A closer view

At the end of the Quai des Peceaux is this fine old bridge.
I loved the tall, narrow house on the end.

Here's a closer view of that too!

A little beyond the bridge, it's clear to see how low
the river is now. I loved the old stone walls that line it.

Looking back to the barrage in the river that helps protect
the town from flooding. Not much danger of that now.

And lastly, this is the bridge over the Marne in our village
Again, you can see how low the river water is due to the
lack of rain

That said, we have had a bit of rain in the last two days; not a huge amount but it has raised the river level slightly and cooled the temperatures temporarily. As for the canal, it seems that the VNF (the French waterways authorities) are deliberately draining it, possibly to do repairs. The water level has dropped far more in the last week than could be considered reasonable. Where last week, it was just a few centimetres below the normal level, now it is at least twenty-five centimetres lower and I can see the bottom of the channel. 

My village friend, Colette tells me it will be closed for two months. How she knows, I haven't yet ascertained, but Colette has her ear to the ground and seems to know everything. I went for a walk with her last week and despite only understanding 10% of what she said (she speaks faster than a TGV train), I learned more local news in 45 minutes than I'd picked up all week.

Other than this, our DIY adventures continue, so more on that next time. Have a lovely week allemaal.

Frying in France

As I mentioned in my last post, we are now down in France at the Crumbly Cottage, Mark 2, and Murphy has been at it again to ensure we timed it to coincide with the hottest week of the year so far. We arrived last Saturday lunchtime after spending the night at Charleville Mézières a fine town roughly forty kilometres from the Belgian border. The reason we stopped was two-fold: the first being to avoid driving in the heat of Saturday afternoon, which was predicted to reach 30C (have small dog; avoid long, hot drives), and the second being to allow Koos to take a break. He has brought his 150cc scooter down to France as a handy runaround, but 480 km is a long way to drive on such a small bike, so splitting the journey seemed sensible.

I'm pleased to report he managed perfectly, but I was even more pleased we hadn't tried to do the whole distance on Saturday. It was very hot and even with the airco going full blast, poor Zoe was panting by the time we arrived.  Since then, we've had temperatures over 30C every day and today it's been up to 38C, so outside activities have been limited. 

I walk Zoe early every morning between 7 and 8 a.m., then it's been a quick 'dash and slash' now and then until around 8 p.m. when I can finally take her for another walk.

We've made a habit of heading down to the canal side where it's shady and deliciously cool at the start of the day. In the evening, the air is like soup, hot and thick, but at least the sun has lost its power by then. We pass an old ford over the river on our way and Zoe loves going for a paddle and a drink there. Unlike most spaniels, she's not a swimmer. She dipped out on that gene (sorry) but wet paws in this heat are clearly a welcome refresher.

Sadly, we haven't seen any boats on the canal and are unlikely to this summer unless we get a lot of rain and soon. Koos, however, encountered four boats moored up in Joinville to the north of us. When chatting to the owners, he learned that they'd all been instructed by the VNF (Voies Navigables de France) to head north as the canal was being closed to traffic due to lack of water. Sad news for us too as we'd hoped to come down here with the Hennie H later on in the summer. With Plan A scuppered, we'll have to come up with Plan B but that's still to be formed.

Anyway, we have achieved a few other things. I've painted the kitchen ceiling (very hot and sticky up there!) and cut the grass (while being fried in action). Meanwhile, Koos has put up an antenna to improve our GSM signal (which doesn't help), as well as fitted a new tap in the kitchen and replaced the loo seat (two minor triumphs to compensate the failed GSM booster), both much needed jobs that involve crawling into small spaces, so very hot and sticky too. It doesn't sound a lot, but we're both moving a bit slowly during these steamy days. Even the slugs on the path outside could give us a run for their money (we don't have any 😁).

So that's our local news and limited views for now, allemaal. We're hoping for some cooler days to come before the next heatwave, but in the meantime, here are a few pics of our gorgeous environs.

The Marne river looking very low

Lovely, welcome, shady trees

More of those wonderful trees

The canal. As you can see, it's totally
undisturbed

The village cross

The mairie for the village

Old ford and mill

Paddling in the shallows

Glorious geraniums

Proud home owner!

From the bottom to the top

Last week, I gave you all chapter and verse about our two weeks on the slipway, but that wasn't the end of the jobs. Back home at our mooring, it was time to get started on the upper parts of Vereeniging that had also seen some serious weathering.

There are a lot of colours to deal with on my old girl: two shades of green, red for the edges, cream for the hatch covers and black for the rubbing rail and the rim along the top of the hull. Then there's the anthracite anti-slip grey paint for the decks. Which is a lot!

Luckily, I have a daughter who loves the barge very much too, so we've both spent time sanding and painting the trim around the top of the engine room and aft cabin (known here as the roef). Then, when I've had to go off to work, she's been over at the crack of dawn (literally) to carry on, bless her. As a result, much more has been completed than I could ever have hoped and I'm once again incredibly grateful for her assistance. It helps that Vereeniging is moored in a wonderfully peaceful and picturesque place, of course. And early mornings are exceptionally lovely, but even still, she's been a rock.

However, the first job was to paint the roef a fresh coat of olive green, and I love how the old iron gleams with every dent and ripple in its 127-year-old structure telling of her hard-working history.

Then came the fiddly stuff for which Jo was such a huge help. The red trim was in a sorry state with flaking paint and rust coming through. The pair of us scraped and sanded and then put rust converter on the bad patches, followed by primer. Only when that was all dry could it be painted red again.

Since Jo completed the job, she was justly proud of her efforts and took these photos to show the finished trim. But there's still more to do.  The windows need scraping and painting, as do the hatches, and then come the decks. We have yet to fix the steering properly and finish some other jobs too, but then the old lady should be fit to fare, as well as proud to parade through cities like Ghent. And we still have that trip to France on the cards...

Meanwhile, I'm leaving Vereeniging in Jo's caring hands when we head off to France by car next week. There may be lots to do, but the summer is not over yet and we're definitely hoping for some faring fun later on. 

Have a great week allemaal! Next time I'm 'here', I'll probably be posting from Koos's railway cottage!

 

The saga of the slipway

 This is effectively the sequel to my last post at the end of May, so I hope you'll understand its late arrival when I say that our occupancy of the slipway was extended by more than an extra week. The delayed start was only partly to blame; there were also public holidays resulting in two long weekends for the staff at the yard. The first was what we call Hemelvaartsdag here in the Flatlands. Literally that's 'Heaven travel day', but it is, in fact, Ascension Day, which is one of several religious feast days observed here in the Netherlands. Since it's always on a Thursday, it makes sense to many employers to let their staff take the Friday off too. That was the four-day holiday at the end of May, but then the weekend of the 7th and 8th of June was Whitsun (Pinksteren here), which meant that the 9th was also a holiday. In the end, I was grateful for the extra time to work on Vereeniging, and we managed to do much more than I'd originally anticipated. The other side of that coin was being pretty tired (a slight understatement) after a more than two-week slog; hence the tardiness in writing this blog.

I mentioned last time that we'd scraped the old tar off the upper hull and had started putting the primer on to the section below the water line. As it transpired, we painted primer on the entire hull up to the rubbing rail (berghout in Dutch), which made sense given that we'd stripped her back to the old iron. 

Doing the bottom is always a challenge, but Jodie, my daughter, had the brilliant idea of bringing two small platform trolleys she'd bought at Ikea when she moved house. We used them to sit on and scoot our way down the slipway under the boat, rolling paint on as we went. What a difference they made! Even so, it was heavy work, and we were both glad when we'd finished both the primer and the blacking of the bottom. We then put extra coats of black coating on the water line, which is always where boats get the most wear.

The next job was to finish the upper hull. What I hadn't initially noticed was that the intense high-pressure spraying to remove the tar had blown out more holes beneath the rubbing rail than I'd first seen. Unfortunately, the wood from which the berghout is made (hout means wood in Dutch) meant it was too dangerous to weld them; it is also the reason for the rust because wood holds water prompting the old iron behind it to decay. After consultation with the yard's welder, we agreed to fill the holes with two-component epoxy – not the most satisfactory solution, but given the time constraints and costs, it was the only thing to do in the circumstances. 

There were several places where the wood had also rotted, and we filled these with epoxy as well, although one of them was so big I had to use a mixture of sawdust and glue to pack it out first. Poor Vereeniging could do with some major renovations to the rubbing rail and the hull behind it, so that's something that will need planning. In the meantime, I used a length of angle iron to cover up the worst series of holes, and I realised that could also be used to strengthen and repair many of the other problem areas, but I can do that in the harbour from a small boat – I hope!

Once all the holes were filled, we finished the painting. Jodie and I focused on the rubbing rail and the red stripe above it called the boeisel in Dutch. (I don't know what it's called in English, but it's what forms the rim around the barge that stops you falling overboard from the deck 😊). Koos focused his attention on getting into all the nooks and crannies where the first coats of black didn't reach. The following photos are a record of what she looked like when we'd finished. Isn't it sad that we'll never see all our work like this again? Most of what we've done is now below the water.

That said, I can't thank my 'team' enough for all the work they put into those two weeks. Vereeniging is my barge and was my principal home from 2001 until 2020. But that aside, I'm ever conscious of her place in the history of the Dutch waterways, and I'm as passionate about conserving that now as I was when I bought her. As a result, I feel humbled that Koos and Jo are so willing to help me with her. When we came to the end of our spell on the yard, I was, as always, a little melancholy. It's such an intense period and I appreciated having the chance to give so much attention to Vereeniging, so while it's a relief that it's over for another two years, I would also have loved to have still more time.

Anyway, we are back home at our mooring now, and I'm happy knowing my old girl has had one of the most thorough maintenance sessions we've ever been able to give her. So to finish this blog, it seems fitting to share the video Jodie made of our descent from the slipway and our short trip back to our harbour. For those who might be deceived, the descent into the water is the actual speed, but the trip along the canal has been sped up to shorten the video. Our actual pace is a very leisurely 7 to 8 kph, not the rapid progress we seemed to be doing on the film.

I hope you enjoyed faring with us, however briefly! Have a great week allemaal and I'll be back when I've reset to normal life again.

Tar tears

This week we are on the slipway (helling in Dutch) with Vereeniging. It’s been months in the planning, but I finally got confirmation of my booking last Friday, which was a great relief. The weekend was spent preparing to go: battery charged, fuel tank filled, stern grease replenished. With everything in order, we left the harbour on Monday morning for the short trip south to Zelzate where we were hauled out just after lunch. Things moved slowly to begin with as it's a busy yard, but on Wednesday, the hull was cleaned with a super high pressure hose. That's when the fun began, though.

On our way to the yard.

Waiting for the lift-out

We had to tie up next to those poles to make 
sure we were on the trolleys

Koos chatting to the yard boss

Now we are being hauled out. There's a
powerful winch on the yard that drags the trolleys
up the rails you see ahead of Vereeniging.

Tied to the poles and on the way up

The trolleys underneath

On Wednesday, she was put on blocks ready for
the work to begin.

Random photo of the yard

A track leading out of the yard which makes
a nice stroll

Once she was up on blocks, one of the yard staff cleaned off her bottom but when he'd finished, he commented that there was still a lot of old tar on her hull. I knew this and have always baulked at stripping it off because it's a big job. Sand blasting would be the best choice but very expensive. However, Alex, the yard's main maintenance man, pointed out the risks of leaving the tar in place. I knew he was right and the evidence was clear. The old tar coating that skippers used to paint on the hull has a tendency to move. When it's hot, it softens, melts and shifts; when it's cold it contracts and cracks. I could see the ripples and breaks in the paint for myself, as this past year has been particularly hard on my barge.

So, I decided to have a go at scraping it all off. With the help of my wonderful daughter, Jo, we've just spent two days manually removing the thick layers of tar that remained on the hull. It's been a really tough job resulting in both of us having seriously smarting skin from the 'tar burn'. We both wore protective face masks and glasses as well as hats, but even so, the fine dust from the tar crept through the cracks and, worse still, into the corners of our eyes. Ouch! Tar tears are pretty painful tears, but it is at last done.

Me and my scraper

port side done; starboard still to go.

Our beloved pooches were so patient, sitting in the car. They're
happy as long as they can be together

But with the scraping done, on the port side, the painting could
begin, thanks to Koos. This is a primer coat.

Koos heading down to the water's edge to take
a photo. What else?

Tomorrow, we'll finish applying the primer and hopefully begin on the top coats. There are some anodes to replace and a couple of holes above the water line to be welded, so we'll probably be there until the middle of next week.

For now, though, I have the satisfaction of knowing we've done a thorough job and I can collapse into bed with my sore face and tar tears. I'm sure it will all feel better tomorrow when we can really get painting in earnest.

Have a good weekend allemaal. If it's a holiday for you, enjoy it! If not, I hope the coming week is a good one.