Abingdon, 0 miles, 0 locks
Had a difficult night last night. I was convinced that I could hear sounds outside the boat and lay awake trying to hear them, or if I dozed I was convinced that the boat would break free of her moorings and be swept down the weir. Of course it's probably all residual stuff from last year, but it meant that I didn't go to sleep until late and slept badly.
When I awoke, the weather wasn't bad—certainly not the rain that I'd been expecting. I got up and had bran flakes for breakfast, then wandered into Abingdon for some shopping and to visit the Chandlers. On the way I stopped at the lock to check with the keeper that I was okay to be moored where I am, although he was slightly distracted by operating the lock to allow the chap from the small boat from yesterday in. I walked over to talk to him as his boat rose and he seemed to have found cheap diesel—87p a litre—and pointed out that I should fill up my tank while it's cheap and to avoid condensation. I asked if he'd heard the weather forecast and he impressed me by looking at his watch instead and announcing that the barometric pressure had dropped by 4 millibars since breakfast, which was indicative of rain! Apparently his watch was a Casio Sea Pathfinder, which has all kinds of things, including a compass, and that he needed to know all this stuff back in his old sailing days.
Abingdon is a nice little town with a smallish square in the middle, near the site where Abingdon Abbey once stood. This was eventually given to Henry VIII when he dissolved the monasteries and all of the stones were taken to London and used to build palaces, leaving almost nothing behind. Now it's a large green park with some excavated areas showing where the building used to be and with good interpretation boards. After wandering through there, I headed for the nearest Chemist, as Laurance had txt'd me to say that he thought I might have the Norrow Virus. Service in the chemist was terrible, with it taking a few minutes for anyone to appear and she had to go off and ask the pharmacist whenever you asked anything. Eventually the pharmacist looked over the partition and asked me to come over, since it would be quicker to tell me directly. After reading to me from what looked like a BBC News web page, she decided that I should try to eat 'light' non-taxing food and buy some Immodium to stop the diarrhoea, some Pepto-bismol to calm my stomach, and some Dioralyte to replace the missing minerals etc that I was losing down the loo. I don't like Pepto-bismol much, so just bought the Dioralyte, having Immodium at home.
Next was a trip to Morrisons. I wasn't sure what I wanted really, but ended up buying some rolls, cream and melba toast. Walking back towards the river, I popped into the Baker's Oven to buy a loaf, and ended up buying a sausage roll too—the smell was irresistible. Back at the river, I popped into the chandlers at Kingcraft Abingdon boat centre. All I really wanted was another impeller, in case the current one failed, but I also bought a telescopic boat hook and a battery box for the battery I'd bought in Halfords in Coventry. The impeller was surprisingly interesting: unlike the one fitted in Welford or the one I bought in Brinklow, both of which had come in olde-worlde cardboard boxes with a quaint Jabsco logo in squirly writing and the ITT logo looking like it was done on a typewriter, this impeller came in a clear plastic bubble pack with a new logo and 'Genuine Jabsco Service Parts' and the names of five countries. It also included a new gasket. I suddenly had a flash of inspiration and dread: what if the impeller fitted in Welford had been some 10 year old part that was getting brittle and ready for disintegration (which would explain why it failed) and did that mean that the currently fitted impeller, which was similarly packaged, was equally ancient and ready to die at any moment? It was both comforting to think I might have guessed why the old impeller failed, but disturbing to think that the new one might go the same way real soon now.
Back to the boat to start the engine and have a little lunch. I started the engine and opened the back deck to fit the new battery into the new box. Turns out that the box, while perfect for the battery, is too large to fit into the space left in the engine room. Oh well. At least by lifting the deck I cleared up one mystery: turns out that water is leaking in through the stern gland. Every time the boat vibrates with the engine, a small spurt of water comes in the top of the shaft. I guess maybe the gland needs repacking, which I'm told they do from time to time. Still no explanation for the coolant loss, although I had meant to check it before I started the engine.
Had lunch of Scotch Broth with some bread and a glass of the Dia-calm. It's surprisingly nice and you do feel better for it. After lunch I had pretty much psyched myself to get on and move the boat, if only so I didn't have to move off the 24-hour mooring in the rain, but by the time I'd completed my last remaining chore of emptying the loo, raindrops were falling on my head. It was a light shower, though, so I figured that I could still move down to the moorings next to the town (the lock being slightly upstream from it). I got changed into suitable clothes and went to the back to open up and was dismayed to find smoke coming from the engine. A quick check of the temperature gauge showed that it was up to 90° which did not bode well. In the end I stopped the engine, but without any cooling the temperature quickly rose to over 100° so I re-started the engine. I figured that this would also be a good test as to whether the pump was still working. After increasing the revs, in order to increase the pumping, the temperature did start to drop and eventually got just below 90°, but not enough to stop occasional whisps of smoke from drifting up from the engine. This was very bad news. I couldn't tell whether the problem was lack of coolant, since I hadn't checked it before starting the engine, or lack of pumping, as the amount available at a little faster than tickover hadn't been enough to cool the engine, although running the engine faster had (except that the engine got hotter as a consequence). There was nothing to be done until the engine had cooled and I could see how much water was left in it, so I stopped it and left the back deck open to allow it to cool.
The rain had stopped by this time and for no obvious reason I decided to try chopping up the fence post I'd found with my new axe. You only need to have hit a piece of wood a couple of times with an axe to realise that you need safety goggles, so I put some on, although I'm not sure that they conform to the ANSI standard mentioned on the handle of the axe. Chopping is also surprisingly hard when you've never done it before, as each chop seems to miss the last one. Eventually, though, you start to make progress and there was a definite deep cut appearing in the post. I rotated the post, figuring that the outermost layers of bark would probably break easier than the dense inner layers, and after quite a bit of chopping, I cut through the post. Not the neatest cut it has to be said, but very satisfying. With that done, it was time to make kindling from the chopped-off bit, which is what this was supposed to be about. I've seen other people doing it and the gist seems to be to hit the wood from the top to separate it. To my surprise, it was quite easy. If you get the positioning right, the wood splits right down the grain. My chopping wasn't sophisticated, so the bits of kindling were a little on the thick side, but I pronounced them not bad for a first attempt. Quite therapeutic too.
As I wasn't going anywhere until the engine cooled, I went back indoors and played Animal Crossing for a bit, then researched Norrow Virus on the internet (there's surprisingly little). Before I knew it, it was dark and I wasn't going anywhere, so that made life simple. I listened to Johnathan Ross' Podcast for a while, then put the remaining half of yesterday's Delia "Cheat" Shepherd's Pie in the oven to reheat, covered with some tin foil. Yesterday I'd forgotten about the instruction to 'let it rest for 10 minutes before serving', which was probably why the seconds were nicer than the firsts, but today, having had 24 hours to 'rest', it was even better. I don't know why I'm so impressed, considering that the only thing I actually cheated on was the use of a tin of lamb mince and some ready-chopped carrot and swede—something I could have done myself in a few minutes—but I guess I'm not thinking like a proper cheat or indeed someone with a well-stocked freezer.
Paul txt'd me to say that he'd been to Brewster's in Animal Crossing to see K.K. Slider play and I'm glad he did, because I'd forgotten that tonight is Saturday. K.K played 'Imperial K.K.' for Paul, so I decided to request it when I went to hear him play. I once again recorded it on the computer and it's good, with a bit of howling in it, which I love.
Tomorrow is going to be an uncertain day. The forecast is for rain, but I might have to move if the lock keeper insists, which means firing up the engine in it's uncertain state. At least if I need to call RCR out to fit yet another impeller, I have confidence that this one is modern and likely to work. On the other hand, it might all hold together if I rev the engine enough, which I can probably do on the river. I'm trying not to worry about it, if only because there's a boatyard down river and I'll bow-haul her there if I have to.
Oh and the clocks go back, so I'll be completely lost time-zone wise and it'll get dark at 5. Boo!
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