The Reality Blog Award

Warm, witty, funny and above all spunky. That's how I think of Jo Carroll. She has become a true blog pal so I was just as truly honoured when my blog was one she nominated in The Reality Blog Award. Luckily, I just have to answer some questions, but they are quite challenging and really got me thinking, so...first the picture and then the answers:

This picture certainly describes many of my blogging friends, so let me see if I can come up with something to do justice to this idea and then pass on the baton to some of the others:

1.  If you could change one thing what would it be?  

All forms of racial prejudice. I know that's fairly broad, but as I teach in a very international environment, I come across it from the most unexpected sources at times. Apparently DNA archaeology has pretty much proved that we are all originally from the same stock, so no one really has a reason to see other races as different other than culturally - and cultural differences are surely to be celebrated.

2.   If you could repeat an age what would it be?

Jo said her choice was the sixties, but I can pinpoint mine to a single year. For some reason, I loved being 22. Maybe that was when I felt I became my own person rather than simply my parent's daughter.

3.  What one thing really scares you?

Oh dear, there are too many of them really. I'm the worst 'what if' worrier in the world and I anticipate disaster round every bend in the river, but, and you're going to find this curious from a boat dweller, I'm really scared of drowning. Luckily, I can swim - I made sure of that very early on!

4.   If you could be someone else for a day, who would it be?

I've never wanted to be anyone else, but let me think now. Whose shoes would I like to walk in for a day? Maybe Alison Krauss the singer. Firstly, I love her voice, and secondly, she's a brilliant fiddler. I'd love to know what it's like to be able to play the violin with such ease and dexterity instead of making the horrible squawking noises that come out of mine when I try.

Okay, so now it's my turn to nominate some of my favourite bloggers. It might be hard to find some who haven't been nominated yet, as there are so many worthy ones, so I'll branch out and suggest the following:

Fran of Bonnie of Clyde

Carol of Carol Hedges although I suspect she might well have been nominated already

Christina of Christina James

Thanks again, Jo, this was fun.

The joys of an open steering position

The Vereeniging on the day we arrived next to the Hoop in the Oude Haven

Back in 2001 when I bought the Vereeniging, I didn't really stop to think of much at all other than the fact that I wanted this barge. It had meant a great deal to find a boat that was so very much me. Firstly was its name - the Vereeniging, spelt with a double 'e' and not the single 'e' used for the word 'society' here. As many of you know, I lived in South Africa for much of my life and the town of Vereeniging (with a double 'e') to the south of Johannesburg, was a favourite with me. It seemed just right that the barge I'd fallen in love with from a photo should have such a special and familiar name and one which I associated with calm tranquillity and the warm sunshine of my former adopted country.

There were of course other bonuses to Vereeniging, the barge. It wasn't too long (19,8 metres), it wasn't too wide (3,2 metres), and it was low and sleek, meaning I could creep into places other more muscular, barges could not follow. In fact, with the charm of its ancient engine (a single cylinder hot bulb installed in 1921) and its old fashioned good looks, there was not much that could have dissuaded me from making the offer. Which I did. There and then.

Still, before I bought the Vereeniging, I'd had something of a checklist of requirements. The length and overall size checked out perfectly, but one thing I'd wanted very much was a nice, cosy wheelhouse. My early days as a resident of the Oude Haven were punctuated by spells of sitting in the wheelhouse on the Hoop, the barge I was renting from my friend, Philip. I'd sit there next to the upside down toilet (which never found its intended position and aim in life) and watch the ducks while I drank endless cups of coffee. The dogs also liked sitting there and watching Sea TV (okay, it's a river, but they didn't know that). The cast of characters never changed much: Mr and Mrs Mallard and their hundred and plenty offspring, varied occasionally by the Cantankerous Coots, hustlers of local notoriety and now and then Ma and Pa Swan whose main line seemed to be 'Give us a snack' in varying tones of aggression. At least it wasn't too challenging a script as they never seemed to forget what they had to say. Anyhow, it was really great to sit there and I was determined that any barge I bought should have a wheelhouse for sitting in too.

Well of course I forgot this completely the moment I saw the Vereeniging. It had everything I wanted, that is, barring two rather important features: firstly it was totally empty. A shell with a rotten wooden floor and only rusting iron for walls, so zero accommodation. Secondly, it had no wheelhouse. Still, I reasoned, the price was good, and I couldn't afford the Hoop anyway, so the selection committee was down to beggars, and we all know about them.

My first reminder of what I'd so conveniently overlooked was our maiden voyage from Grave (pronounced a gutterel Hraava in case you had other ideas) near Nijmegen in the east of the Netherlands. It was December, 2001 and we had a journey of some 120 kilometres to make. The day was arctic with winds that slashed at us in icy shards. And there we stood - at our open steering position, exposed to it all. Oh joy!

There is a an article here published by the tugboat owner who assisted us on this trip, and he took this photo of me looking clearly huddled and miserable (yes I did have dark hair in those days, but not naturally even then). It was an exciting journey for all sorts of other reasons (to be found in Watery Ways, the book), but it was also an extremely cold one.

While I have never regretted buying the Vereeniging, I still think wistfully of the Hoop's lovely wheelhouse and often scheme about how to add one to my little barge. Sadly, I have been through all the possibilities mentally and on paper, and it would not work. More importantly, it would look so out of keeping, it is not even thinkable really, but still I dream. To be confined to travelling in the warmer months in this part of the world is somewhat limiting to say the least, so if anyone has any bright ideas, feel free to send in your plans! I want something like this (see the Hoop below). What do you think?

The Hoop as it was when I  was Philip's tenant.

Sindy on the hatchboards as a youngster

A trailer for WateryWays

I wonder how this will work. My first attempt at a trailer for promoting my book.

The Vereeniging will return

This last week I had 'the' chat to my lovely Jodie about what she wants to do as regards the Vereeniging. Just to remind those of you who have forgotten or who haven't been visiting me for long, Jo moved onto my barge, the Vereeniging,  a year ago this month. At the time, we agreed she would have a year to decide whether she wanted to make barge life a permanent thing, and added to that, whether she wanted to stay on the Vereeniging.

Well, one thing is clear. She wants to live on a barge. She loves it despite the inevitable inconvenience that such a life brings. The second thing is that she realises it cannot be the Vereeniging. My little barge is too small for my daughter's myriad interests. She is bursting out of it at the seams. I saw this coming almost from the first and I am not surprised. Her books, musical instruments and art work alone take up more than all the room there is. What there is left to live and cook in is less than her ambitions in this department will allow. I know she was worried about telling me, but it was clear to me in many ways. I am only glad she's had the experience and decided what she wants.

The other and good part is that I get my barge back. And in truth I'll be very happy to receive it again. I've missed it dearly, and I'm already dreaming about what I'm going to do with it in the coming years. One thing I've learnt is that the Vereeniging is too much part of me to relinquish, and come what may, my barge and I will be cruising off into a French sunset one of these days.

Koos will of course be my first mate...

The Smell of the Water

It felt like spring today. Did anyone else notice that? The air was soft and I could smell the water. It's like the call of the wild to me. I want to be casting off the ropes and getting out onto the waterways. Job? Commitments? Paying the taxman, medical insurance, community charges? What I would give to thumb my nose at them all and take off.

Jan giving me a lesson

I am reminded of a fantastic trip we did back in 2004. It was just a day like today although slightly later in the year at the beginning of May. But it was a very special day. We took the Vereeniging upstream towards Gouda, turned left into the Rotterdam Ringvaart and went where no old barge had been in a very very long time. The waterways are very, very narrow, the bridges are extremely low and the canals very shallow. Even for the Vereeniging, it was a challenge. We quite literally scraped the bottom of the waterway over an aqueduct, and then we had to remove everything off the hatchboards to get ourselves under one particularly low bridge. It was an action packed adventure and a half all conducted at the pace of a snail. It was just one day but it felt like a complete and timeless holiday.

Leaving the harbour

Idyllic scenery on the Ringvaart

That trip was even more special, though, because my guide and mentor for the day was a very dear friend who is no longer with us. His name was Jan and he coached me in the art of steering my barge. I remember it as the one of the rare days in all the time I knew him when he looked fit, healthy, handsome and happy. I am so glad the Veeeniging gave him that day. I treasure it still.

Jan and me

Jan checking what was up ahead on the Rinvaart

Before and After

Two weeks ago now, we went to France for the day. Cambrai to be specific. It was beautiful weather but very cold, so we didn't enjoy it quite as much as we normally do. There was another reason for that, though. What we didn't realise as we were taking in the beauties of this particularly remote area of northern France was that Koos (he with the real photographic talent for those who don't know him) was busy building himself up for a week in hospital. He might have told me (I complained to him later) but Koos being Koos simply muttered about being cold (very rare for him), turned down the chance of a luscious creamy dessert when we had lunch (almost unheard of and cause for concern in itself) and asked me to drive home (something he hardly ever never does when we are in France). Actually, now I come to think of it, he asked me to do most of the driving there too (I should definitely have been warned then).

On the way there, though, we'd stopped by this remote, but still used railway line - although the station is out of use (spot the Koos in the photo before while he got cold). It was so quiet, so tucked away, so far from not just the madding but any crowds at all that we both felt that kind of hush that creeps over everything and makes you want to whisper. In fact, the lane I was standing on where I took this photo was cobbled. Only the part around the railway tracks had been tarred. It made us feel as if we'd stepped back in time, or at least into a parallel world.

When we reached Cambrai after a few more detours, we found lunch in a great restaurant with the wonderfully cross cultural name of 'Le Jolly Sailor'. It is run by an Englishman with his 'vairy Franche friend' and they do a brisk trade in excellent food which combines well with the impromptu 'vaudeville' style songs that John (not sure if that's his real name), the Englishman performs, accompanying himself on the piano. The lunch weighed heavy on our tums and so called for a walk along the canal before we decided the cold was too cold and headed on home. Koos slept much of the way back (not all so surprising as he often does) but by the time we got home, he seemed better and we spent a normal evening together. By four o'clock the next morning, though, things had changed again and this time, we were calling an ambulance. Just as well it seems. To cut a long story short, Koos is home again now with some extra bits of tube keeping the blood circulating through his heart.  It's an op he's had before, so we knew the signs, but I'm very glad it's over. I can now look back on the 'before' and know now for sure that it's 'after' - and that it's alright.

Get the violins out

Owing to one thing and another, I have not had much in the way of me time of late. As I've mentioned earlier, this is a busy time of year anyway, so it's normal. But, the thing is, and it's become quite a thing for me, it has interrupted something that I have grown to love doing (although everyone else around me is probably much relieved): my violin practice.

Up until the last couple of weeks, I was managing. I could practise three of four times at the weekends and once or twice during the week, but now I haven't touched it for fourteen whole days and I've really missed it. So to console myself, I have  started planning how to upgrade my little student violin. I've been looking at new strings especially for fiddle playing, and I've also been lusting over carbon bows. Can you imagine the excitement? You think I'm joking, don't you...

Maybe I'll give myself a treat and order them. It will give me the push I need to get back into it again now the period of hectic activity is drawing to a close. Not to mention the fact that with the cost of the bow alone, I'd better make sure I make use of it.

I wonder what the neighbours will think about the resumption of the cat's chorus. They'll probably take to turning up their TV's again. It's either that or they'll be wondering whose animal is in season!

Are any of you trying to learn an instrument, or do you remember the feeling of worrying about what the neighbours might think of your early efforts to become your own Yehudi Menuhin?

And for my next post, I hope I'll have some good news about my new (getting old now) book....it's about time I finished it (two years down the line), so the fact that it's nearing the end is quite a triumph in itself. Another reason to treat myself...

Exciting news

What it really means, I don't know, but I've just learnt that The Skipper's Child (see below right in the sidebar) is one of the books that has reached the voting stage of The People's Prize. Just the idea that people can vote for my book, or that it has reached such a stage and page seems mind boggling to me. I'm really thrilled about it. Even if it doesn't go anywhere and gets zero votes, just being there seems amazing. Needless to say I am squandering all the goodwill I have from my friends on Facebook, Twitter and everywhere else (yes, even here), who will probably get sick of me plugging it for the next couple of weeks. I'll make it up to you all soon, I promise! Once I've got over this busy hump and re-charged my failing batteries, I'll be visiting blogs, tweeting and chatting again, but for now and as long as I can keep my eyes open, I'll bask in the pleasure of seeing my book on The People's Book Prize: 

The link is here: http://www.peoplesbookprize.com/book.php?id=848