The return of the Snails - A day to remember

A couple of weeks ago, we learned that our friends of the Wandering Snail had confirmed their arrangements for their return to Europe after a gap year in the UK that had not proved to be all too happy. Quite apart from the fact they had not wanted to go in the first place, a number of very unpleasant and stressful incidents meant that they decided to come back as soon as they could.

Yesterday, the truck that took them from Terneuzen in Zeeuws Vlaanderen to England in October last year brought them back again. We packed our bags in Rotterdam and drove down to welcome them home again, but the real welcome came this morning when we finally sailed the Hennie Ha out of the harbour in Sas van Gent and cruised up the huge canal towards Terneuzen to meet them.

This was our first real trip out in the Hennie Ha for three years and it felt fantastic to be out on the water again sharing space with the huge barges and sea-going ships that regularly pass us on their way to Ghent.

 There isn't any more I can say that the photos can't, so as every picture tells a story, I'll let them do just that

And now for something different....

I've written a new story in my 'proverb' series. This one is based on the saying "A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush".  I'm pretty happy with it, in fact, but am getting my two best critics to read it first before I present it to my real public, the bevy of small nieces and nephews I seem to be accumulating. And who knows, after them, the rest of the world?

I'm also hoping Jodie will be able to illustrate it for me, or maybe even Mo as she is very talented at drawing animals, and she's absolutely  brilliant at cartoons.

Then tomorrow, I'm hoping to write some more of my Breeding Eccentrics tale, as I really need to get that out.

I read a good article the other day about the important things to remember when writing and publishing, and one of the key points is to have plenty of material out there. I don't really have enough, it seems, so I need to get writing and get more on Kindle.  What I don't know is whether it's best to stick to the same genre. I have children's stories, teen fiction, memoirs and am in the middle of adult fiction. Am I being a bit too eclectic I wonder? Or would the readers of the Horse that Smiled be likely to read the Skipper's Child as they got older and then Watery Ways as adults...maybe I'm building a readership for life...it's a thought anyway.

Changing the subject abruptly, the other thing I'm busy with is teaching myself to play the violin. I'm still at the stage where the sounds I make probably constitute a serious breach of the peace, and the cats in the area are fearing for their lives, so I only dare to practise at the little house, but I do love it!

Anyone would think I suddenly have time on my hands, wouldn't they? Regrettably, that's not the case. I am just squeezing these extras into the cracks between curriculum design, lesson planning, and teaching itself. It's very, even hectically, busy at the moment.

I must say I would give a lot to cut down the teaching - not because I don't like it, but because I have so many other things I like doing as much, if not more. Ah well, Watery Ways is due out pretty soon...maybe that will be my foot out of the door!

Booking the talk and talking the book

Finding ways to promote my writing is not all that easy in a country where my audience is proportionally small because a) the language, while commonly spoken is not the language of social interaction and leisure and b) my subject matter makes my market even smaller. Consequently, I am always inordinately excited to be invited to give a book talk.

The International Women's Club of Rotterdam, otherwise known as Pickwick, invited me to talk about my first book African Ways a few years ago, and I found the reception warm, friendly and very very interested. So, when they asked me if I would come and talk to them about The Skipper's Child, I jumped at the opportunity. The invitation came months ago, so I had quite some time to prepare myself. Nevertheless, as they say, the best laid plans of mice and men find a way of going astray, and believe me, if they can, they will.

To cut straight to the point, the morning of my long anticipated talk turned, within seconds, into one big disaster.

The first thing that happened was that because I had to teach a class first and I had a lot to carry, I decided to drive to work. This is quite unusual for me, as I normally cycle, so my routine was already upset before I even started. I got my things together and then realised I had too much to carry to the car in one go, so I picked up my teaching bag, grabbed Sindy (who had to come too, of course) and the car keys and stepped out allowing the door to click shut behind me. As I heard it, my blood ran cold. I had the car keys and my teaching things, but my other bag with my other keys and my book talk presentation were all still behind the door - which was now firmly closed and effectively locked.

Now, I have a way of dealing with panic situations that's a bit odd. When I don't know what to do, I just keep going until I do know, a method that has become my modus operandi over the years. It's not always the best thing to do (definitely not when you are ploughing your boat into a bank or a harbour wall), but it does give you time to think - most of the time.

So, totally stymied by what I had just done, I took Sindy to the car, got in and started driving, and as I drove, I figured out a way through the mess. The upshot of my in-transit scheming was that I went and got poor Jodie out of bed, arranged with her that she would fetch my spare keys from her sister, go and collect my bag and presentation, and then after my lesson I would come and fetch everything from her and make a mad dash to the venue where I had to give the talk.

Luckily for me, and thanks to my wonderful daughter, this time it all worked out. I had a few other incidents in the meantime to make me think I should never have got up that morning, but I won't go into those here. Jodie's prompt, willing and timely help are all that really matter for this story.

Having rushed out of class and collected my goodies from Jo, I arrived at the rather grand conference venue, Lommerijk, exactly at the time I was due to arrive. Distinctly dishevelled, somewhat stressed and exhausted before I'd even started, Jean van der Heiden (charming, Scottish, married to a Dutch man) heard my story and sat me down with a cup of coffee to catch my breath. The only thing I wish is that she'd given me something to catch my hair too, as in the photo that she took after the talk, I saw just how dishevelled I really was!

The one good thing about my early morning misadventure was that it made a good ice-breaker to introduce myself with...nothing like a bit of drama, disaster and self-mockery to start things off with!

That done, I proceeded to give my talk. To set the scene for the reading, I gave each of those attending a map of the 1962 route that Arie's family took in their barge, as well as a photo of the real skipper's family (Koos's) and a brief bio of the family history. As I started explaining about what had inspired me to write my story, I realised how interesting it must all seem to 'outsiders'. I am now so used to this watery world, it's all quite normal to me, but as I watched my audience and saw their response to my account of the background to The Skipper's Child, I understood that in fact, I'm very privileged to have been part of something rather special.

I then read them an excerpt from the book. It's one I am especially fond of as it starts with the Kornet family eating their evening meal on board the Rival in Ghent while they listen to the news on their new transistor radio. It follows with Arie leaving the warm barge for a freezing walk into the city centre where he is struck by the beauty of the gracious waterside buildings. The passage finishes with his return to the barge when, from a nearby bridge,  he sees a shadowy figure creeping along the gunwales and disappearing into his own sleeping quarters in the bows of the barge.

I'd hoped to read another extract - one in fact that Hans Astrom had suggested - but time was now running short, so I decided to leave it at that moment of suspense. It was a shame I didn't get to read the other passage, also one of suspense and drama, but it was probably the right choice, as there was a collective sigh (I hope of disappointment) when I said I was stopping.

After that, I answered a stream of questions about the story, the family and barge life in general. The genuine interest was fantastic. Even better, I parted with sixteen signed copies, and one lady took a second one to give to the head of English at the school her son attends. She told me very enthusiastically that this was just the kind of book they would like to have in the library because it combines Dutch culture with Dutch history as well as English language in a digestible form for youngsters. I wasn't about to disagree!

In the end, the book talk was the highlight of my day, my week and probably even my month. The reception I had from the members of Pickwick was so genuine, I really enjoyed myself. I think it's true to say that nearly all Dutch people have some connection to the world of commercial skippers, and while most of the women at Pickwick are imports, like me, their spouses are generally Dutch, so the connection is there. And, it doesn't matter who you are or where you are from, a life on the waterways is so different from the norm that it can only be fascinating for those who live on the land. It's a kind of parallel world that we can all see, but only very few actually experience. I am so lucky to have had even just a glimpse of it.

Thank you very much to Jean van der Heiden and the members of Pickwick for giving me this opportunity and welcoming me back so warmly.

Handing over

Just a few months over ten years ago, I endured my first insurance inspection as owner of the Vereeniging. It was a traumatic event. The inspector came with his merciless hammer and belted holes the size of pigeon eggs along the length of the hold of my precious barge.

The story of that inspection was documented in my book Watery Ways. It resulted in a week of heroic hard work, help and goodwill that I will never forget (once again - thank you so much especially to Philip, but also to Frits, Joram, Peter and Koos, not to mention all the other wonderful souls who mucked in to help). Five years later, I had another inspection, and barring a few minor patches, nothing of any significance was needed. Between 2002 and now,  I have had the Vereeniging out of the water every two years to clean and re-black the hull, always careful to have anything that looked suspect repaired, so this year, when a further inspection was due, I wasn't too worried. I have looked after my little barge with what amounts to tenderness and a lot of love.

Last Monday, we moved the Vereeniging from our mooring to the 'helling' (the slipway). The inspector came on Tuesday, and after his usual bashing, only two small plates on the 'kimmen' were needed - these being the curved parts along each side of the barge that come between the straight sides and the flat bottom and are particularly vulnerable to 'thinning'. Despite my anxiety over certain other parts of the bottom, the inspector proclaimed that the Vereeniging was extremely fit for her 114 years of age. The rest of the week since then has been the usual exhausting, but satisfying blur of painting as many coats of tar substitute on the bottom as it will take, while working around Daan, our brilliant welding craftsman as he bent and shaped the patches that he then attached with supreme neatness and precision to the hull.

However, this 'helling beurt' marks the fact that other things have changed too. In a sense, the inspection was something of a handing over. I am no longer living on the Vereeniging. My daughter Jodie has moved on board and is set to take it over for the longer term. This 'keuring', as the inspection is called, was also to ensure that everything was in a fit and healthy condition for her to assume responsibility. This is hard for me, as you might imagine, but many things have occurred over the past twelve months that make it the practical and sensible solution for all of us - and Koos and I still have the Henny Ha...(see previous post). The long (or the short) of it is that Jodie has the best part of a year to decide if she really wants to pursue this life, and part of that is winter - a testing time.

I won't dwell on my somewhat mixed feelings at this stage, but will leave you with the photos above of the Vereeniging that I took today. The yellow clad individual under the boat is Jodie using the high pressure hose to clean parts of the bottom that had not yet been treated.

You could call this a sort of baptism for her - just as it was for me ten years ago. I wonder if she will write a book about it too...

Back in action

The photo above was taken on a happy day in September 2008 when the the barge in the picture, the Hennie Ha, was newly ours and we had just finished sprucing it up to take it to its new home in Sas van Gent. We were celebrating our delight with the work we had done. However, the four years since have seen troubled times for our little barge. At the insurance inspection we'd had done in Rotterdam, the inspector told us we would have to have the steel plates that had been used to 'double' the bottom removed and replaced. They were too thin to be acceptable and we were given one year to have the work done.

Shortly after this happier photo was snapped, we made the journey through Zeeland as far as Hansweert, where I left Koos to go back to work in Rotterdam. Koos continued across the Westerschelde, an estuary so busy with sea-going ships and so riddled with sandbanks and shallows that you need a special licence to navigate it. He made the crossing without mishap, but just as he turned into the big sea canal from Terneuzen to Gent, the steering shaft broke. Some of you who have been reading my blog a long time might remember this episode. It was traumatic for Koos but a blessing that it happened so close to a lock and not out in the middle of the main shipping channel.

He was given a tow to Sas van Gent, and since then, the furthest the Hennie Ha has travelled under its own steam is from Zelzate (four kilometres towards Gent) back to Sas after having spent nearly a year at the shipyard having its bottom replaced (so to speak).

It took close to the year we were given to organise these very necessary repairs as we couldn't find anyone to do the work at a price we could afford.  Some of you might also remember that at the first attempt, the yard at Zelzate could not lift the Hennie Ha with their crane because it was too heavy, so she had to be towed back to Sas by our narrow-boating friends, Olly and Anne on the Wandering Snail. That was on 2 July 2009

The second attempt  was made early in 2010.  In the intervening months, we had looked at several other options, all of which were too costly and the Hennie Ha just lay sadly at its berth. Except for the fact that Koos managed to fix the steering and I did my best to keep up with the maintenance, it could not go anywhere. Had any problems occurred with the hull, we would not have been insured, hence we were effectively 'gated'.  In the end, another arrangement was made with the yard at Zelzate and Koos risked the trip back. This time the barge was pulled up the slipway - where it remained until February 2011.

On that cold, but exciting day, we brought the Hennie Ha back to Sas van Gent again, but that was not the end of the story. The steering was still giving problems and we needed to set up the cooling system. It had only ever been a botch job, so now it needed doing properly.

In May 2011, we attempted a trip out with some friends, but once again, the steering gave problems. By this time, our confidence in the little barge had dropped again, and it never really recovered sufficiently to get things moving again during 2011. Apart from that, the rest of the year brought other priorities that needed our attention and so the Hennie Ha lay in its berth again.

This summer did not really materialise until this month, weather wise, and again, there were other priorities that prevented us from testing out the new cooling system that Koos had set up in June. Still, (and yes, you knew I'd come to the point eventually) we finally did it.

As I mentioned in my last post, after some very necessary testing  - and I won't bore you with the details - we were finally satisfied the Hennie Ha was ready to go again. So, today, we did it. It took some resolve - after all, our faith in the boat had taken some knocks - but we finally cast off and went for a test run. The silly thing is that it was so thrilling and so exhilerating I totally forgot to take any photos!

We didn't go far. Bit by bit, you understand. Next time, it will be further, and we have a special trip in September to aim for. The point is, though, we did it. Out and back without a problem. Are we pleased? We are. More than just a bit.

Catching Up

Rooftops at Rennes Le Chateau

I can't believe it's been so long since I wrote a blog post! I really can't. But when I think about it, it's not so very surprising. Since I officially finished work on 20th July, I've been either away or very busy much of the time.

Sunflowers near Salle sur L'Hers

The first week was spent on my first real holiday in ages in the south west of France. I was lucky enough to get a real bargain of a flight from those wonderful Irish carriers, Ryan Air. Just to put it in perspective, my return flight from the Netherlands to Carcassonne (around 1500 kms distance) cost less than the return train fare from Carcassonne to Agen (less than 200 kms distance). It would be so great if train travel were the more cost effective, wouldn't it? I much prefer it for many reasons, not just the sense of real travel. Anyhow, I was also very lucky to have friends and family down there to stay with and I had a wonderful week. The sun was hot, the sunflowers pure gold and I literally wallowed in the warmth. Just what I needed, in fact. Carcassonne itself is a beautiful, historic city steeped in legends and drama, and for anyone who is interested in things to do with Cathars, Knights Templar and Holy Grail stories, this is surely the place to revel in them. I came home with a book on the subject that I am finding hard to resist, but know I will have to if I want to get other things done at all. It's called The Holy Blood and The Holy Grail by Michael Baigent, Richard Leigh and Harry Lincoln. It is quite a tome, but from what I have read so far, absolutely fascinating.

An enduring image of Carcassonne for me - sun, steely blue skies,
colour and above all, historic battlements

The only part of the ramparts that are still in the original
style with wooden walkways and palisades

The streets of 'new' Carcassonne - still lovely

When I came back on the 31st, I stopped overnight in Rotterdam to sort a few things out and give a final lesson, but then I sped on down to Zeeuws Vlaanderen to join Koos and Sindy at our usual haven of peace and tranquillity. We spent a few days pottering, painting and doing the garden but achieved a golden triumph when we got our little barge, the Hennie Ha, running on its new cooling system. What a moment that was! What a relief too, as it's taken forever to get it fixed. I also started doing the summer painting that's always necessary on boats so hopefully, this weekend, we will take a short test run in our ongoing project. I can't wait to be on the water again...

The Hennie Ha after its smooshing last weekend

Then on Monday, it was back to Rotterdam again to work on Koos's Luxor. It was in need of some serious TLC, so we've just spent the last few days cleaning, scrubbing and clearing the detritus of ages out of the old barge. We hefted an unwanted fridge, various other electrical appliances and heaps of old wood up to the tip, and then attacked everything with soap, scrubbing brushes and a high pressure hose, not to mention a good dose of strong will. It was hard, dirty work, but worth it. The Luxor now looks almost respectable again - just in time, as it seems someone is interested in taking it on, which will be another relief, especially for Koos.

We are now back in Zeeuws Vlaanderen once more and it is well into August, but the time has been well spent. We are hoping to have a few days of rest and relaxation, plus another foray into France, but more importantly, I need to finish some assignments for my studies and prepare things for next year....yes, already....sigh....

Life then is never dull, and while I hope I can get down to some writing as well, I know that will be the luxury I might not have time to afford. I do hope so, though. It's what makes life worth living in the long run. Well, it is for me, anyway, and this, our getaway retreat, is the best place for inspiring me.

End of the year

This last week has been crazy. The end of the academic year always seems to be chaotic with everyone panicking that nothing is really ready for September when it all starts again. It never is and it never will be, so I don't know why they panic...just part of the routine, I suppose.

I don't know if I've mentioned it before, but since last September, I have been teaching two mornings a week at the Rotterdam Business School, which is itself part of the Hogeschool Rotterdam, a sort of university college. RBS, as it's otherwise known, is where International students  are generally enrolled, and 90 percent of these tend to be Chinese. RBS has a reciprocal arrangement with Shanghai University to take students who have done some studying there and give them a European academic education and degree. This kind of programme is driven a little too much by commercial interests for my liking, but I enjoy being there very much because of the students - they are just great and I really like them immensely.

Working with students from such a different culture, language and educational background is also a huge challenge, and I find it endlessly stimulating. It rather puts the teaching of English to European students in the shade as far as the variety, creativity and new approaches that are needed are concerned. Anyhow, once the exams for the year were over and the students had graduated to the next stage, the scramble to look at the new curricula, timetables and division of classes took over and that was much less fun.

There was, however, one very delightful interlude in the midst of all this. I decided to take a group of my students out for a kind of farewell treat, so I arranged with them that we would meet in the harbour and then go across the river to the Hotel New York. This is a famous and rather ornate building where the great America Line ships used to moor up and where throngs of hopefuls would embark on their way to a new life in the US. There we had coffee and pastries and I gave them all a small gift. Then we took the water taxi back over the river and had a nice walk around our harbour where I showed them the Vereeniging and all the other ships lying there.

Are we having a good time, or what?

He's so cool, but then so is she!

Happy faces

More happy faces

Looking ahead in the Water Taxi

What pretty girls, and so very sweet too!

View of Rotterda's skyline from the Water Taxi

It was a happy day. The sun shone warmly for us and my lovely students were all charm and smiles. What a sweet group they have been and what a pleasure to teach. It makes all the administration hassle worth it to know I have somehow been a small part of the academic machine that is helping them on their way.

One Dog and his Man

Over the past forty eight hours I've been getting closely acquainted with a certain labrador by the name of Oberon. He's a canny soul, slightly posh,  remarkably well-versed and with a healthy contempt for the gullibility of his Lord and Master as regards his ability (the Lord and Master's that is) to resist or avert Oberon's attempts to get his own way.

To explain, Oberon is the narrator and 'I' character in the book titled One Dog and his Man by Mike Henley. This is a charming and very humorous view of the world from Oberon's perspective, hence the title. As anyone who has owned a labrador knows, they are obsessed with two things - food and comfort. Oberon is no exception and his accounts of how he manipulates his master into making both these things easily available to him are so familiar, I have been chuckling my way from page to page.  He has his master taped to a capital 'T' and provides a very useful guide to up and coming young hopefuls on how to sabotage their humans' intentions, kitchens and even love life with exceptional canine cunning.

It's not a long book. Interestingly, there are no page numbers, but the Lulu.com blurb says it's 109 pages including the title page, copyright page and extras. It's also beautifully illustrated by the late, Larry, who was a well-known British cartoonist, so given the amount of space pictures take up, it is a book you will romp through with ease over a weekend, or if you are a quick reader, even an evening. By the way, the drawings are a treat in themselves and would make me want to own the book just to look at them now and then.

Mike Henley is actually an actor and voice artist, but he clearly has some talent with the pen as well. I knew Mike at college long long ago (in those days, we both had long hair!), and had not seen or been in touch with him until we both re-emerged on Facebook and became contacts through the agency of mutual friends. I still have not met him again in 'real life', but even at college, he was known as a 'bright spark'. I see from his FB repartee that his wit has only increased with the years, and this is evident in his writing as well.

I hope this is not the only book he is planning to write as it would be good to read the feline side of the story too. I believe he has a cat called Nigel. That aside,  I can recommend getting hold of a copy of this one, especially if you have a dog, and more particularly, a labrador. You could learn a few things, and not only about dogs, while being very entertained in the process.