West country canals – a forgotten dream?

I grew up in Devon but by the time I lived there, there wasn’t much in the way of navigable canals left. I remember going on a school trip to see Cann Quarry Canal, a two mile waterway that connected with the Plymouth and Dartmoor Railway. I think it was only working for ten years. There’s a little five mile long canal in Exeter from Exeter Canal Basin to the River Exe estuary. There’s also a little canal near Tiverton which I think runs a horse drawn boat trip. There are several more abandoned canals around Devon but they have long since fallen into disrepair. So it wasn’t until I grew up and boldly went to seek my fortune in London that I really began to discover the thriving canal network that is still navigable for 2000 miles across the UK.

I lived in a flat in Kentish Town near Camden and watched with fascination the painted boats that would pass through Camden lock. The romantic gypsy in me began to realise, some people actually live on these boats! A seed was sown, and I have since become someone who lives on a narrowboat, and has travelled the canals of London and Hertfordshire.

I can never take my boat on the long forgotten canals of Devon where I grew up; the short canals that remain are not connected to the main system. By default then, I have always thought that the way to connect my boating life with my West Country roots would be to travel west as far as I can by canal. This is why the Kennet and Avon canal has become the journey that I have yet to do.

Having spent my adult years building a career, and then a family, in and around London, do I still hear the call of the West Country? Do I see a white horse carved into a Wiltshire hillside in my dreams? Or a famous flight of 29 locks at Caen Hill near Devizes?

This is the boating journey that I never got to do. Now that I am settled on a residential mooring near a good school my cruise down the Kennet and Avon must be done as a holiday trip someday. (If you are single or a couple, it is cheaper to go by hotel boat than to hire a boat.) I’ve seen the charming historic buildings of Bradford on Avon and the Georgian architecture of Bath on weekend visits before, but that is fleetingly, by car.

Exploring by narrowboat is a slower pace of life, more connected with nature. In a city we are surrounded by man-made creations. But travelling through England’s countryside on the water I feel more connected with real life.

“What is this life if, full of care,
 We have no time to stand and stare.”
(From the poem ‘Leisure’ by William Henry Davies.)

So one day, I will let the Kennet and Avon take me slowly back west. Where will it take you? Read more about the highlights of the Kennet and Avon on the Devizes to Newbury cruise or the Bath to Devizes via Bristol journey. Or read more about why Devizes is high on my list of places to visit by boat.

Disclosure: I was paid to write this post on the Canal Voyagers blog. I re-published it here because it tells a little about me, my narrowboat life and my dreams.

Canal Voyagers are currently offering a £50 discount on the first 12 cruises of the year.

Beside the sea side

When I was little we lived in a village beside the sea. I wanted to write a beautiful and lyrical post about being connected to water, but in the end I think these pictures speak for themselves. Our narrowboat is moored about the furthest distance you can get from the sea in England, so my girls have rarely seen it. On this day in half term I took them to the beach near where I grew up and enjoyed watching them discover sand, shells and rock pools.

What part of your childhood would you like to share with your children?

Memory Book – Hobbies

Dear Daughters,

When I was little my hobbies were reading, writing and drawing. I have always loved books and we have read to you two since you were babies, so now you love books too! I remember enjoying learning to write my letters at infant school and writing poems and short stories at junior school. I was so proud when a short story I wrote was on the front page of the junior school magazine. By the time I was thirteen I was reading Jackie and Bunty comics and creating my own versions. I would pain-stakingly draw picture stories with speech bubbles for the characters. Then I would feed the pencil –coloured pages into my car boot sale typewriter and type words into the speech bubbles.

In my later teenage years I wrote angsty poems, dreamy poems and funny poems. I loved studying English literature and writing essays about Wuthering Heights. I did Art, English and Theatre Studies for A-levels and then spent four years at Art College. After a patchwork career that took me through the building industry, music industry, Friends of the Earth, the NHS and hypnotherapy, I finally got back in touch with my first true love: Writing. I became a performance poet, then a blogger and now a professional blogger and writer.

So what can I tell you about hobbies? Take notice of what you love. Do what you love to do. Never give up. Follow your heart and follow your dreams. It’s not just that my dream was to write. It’s more that I could no more stop writing or not write than I could not breathe.

Follow your dreams.- poem for my daughters.

Love

Mum

Xx

Memory Book is a monthly slot on The Alexander Residenceblog where Penny writes down some memories for her children, there’s a theme each month, and a linky.

When I Was 5 I Ran Away From School

When I was 5 I ran away from school. Mrs Roberts told the class to get their maths books out. I hate maths, I thought.

“Mrs Roberts is a poo!” I muttered to myself. The boy next to me looked shocked.

“I’m telling on you!” he exclaimed, and went to stand at the end of a long queue of children waiting to speak to Mrs Roberts. I surveyed the length of the line, and thought;

By the time he gets to the front of that line I could be out of here.

I ran to the classroom door and out to the cloakroom. No time to button it – I put the hood of my coat over my head and my coat flew out behind me like Batman’s cape. I was already clutching my school bag which smelt of Penguin chocolate biscuits. I ran out of the portacabin classroom, down the steps, across the playground and towards the school gates. I’m not sure at what point I realised the classroom assistant was chasing me. She was an older lady with permed hair, an A-line skirt and sensible shoes. I was headed for home. I raced out of the school gates and along the pavement towards where the corner of the road became a slight cul-de-sac. As the crow flies the quickest way home would be to cut straight across the road and the classroom assistant was hot on my heels. But I was not allowed to cross the road on my own without a grownup. I lived only 5 minutes from school and it was possible to get home without crossing any roads. So I opted to run around the long way, along to the end of the cul-de-sac, keeping to the pavements.

She caught me.

She put me over her shoulder and I kicked and screamed all the way back to class. I saw children in classrooms stare through windows at me. Back in the classroom Mrs Roberts gently asked me if I wanted to join the class doing maths, or go into the book corner and read books. I went into the book corner and read books and did colouring-in for the rest of the day. Result.

At the end of the day Mrs Roberts and my mum talked about me in hushed voices. I kept on colouring in.

Tomorrow my eldest daughter starts school for the very first time. I’m very proud and a little sad. She looks so smart in her uniform. Like all mothers I can’t believe how my baby has grown. She has seemed more excited than anxious. The other day I quietly asked her if there’s anything she wants to ask me about starting school.

“Yes,” she said solemnly. “My new water bottle that you bought me for school: I don’t think I can take the lid off by myself, to re-fill it.” I smiled and we went in to the kitchen to practice opening the water bottle together.

I’ve told her an abbreviated version of my running away from school story. She thinks it’s hilarious. I’ve made it clear that running away from school, without a grown-up is Extremely Dangerous and Very Naughty Indeed.