The Beer-Fishers of Coventry

Hawkesbury Junction - Coventry Canal

There are certain things that we just can't do without on the boat; Dad's beer, my biscuits, and toilet-roll.

Well, Dad had no beer, my biscuits were just a pile of crumbs in the bottom of the box, and the toilet-roll was nearly down to the cardboard.
Mums phone has a thing on it called a 'Google', and this Google told her that there was a shop by the canal nearby in Coventry, so we set off in the boat to find out where we could park to do a bit of shopping.

After a couple of miles, or an hour in 'boat-time', we saw the shop, but nowhere to park the boat. Dad said that we would have to turn around and try to find somewhere on the way back.

The trouble with our boat is that it is too long to turn round just anywhere, so we have to go to a special place that they have every few miles, where long boats can go in and turn around.

At the place where we needed to turn, there was a couple of men and a woman who had fishing-rods and seemed to be catching beer cans in the canal.
I don't know what time they had started fishing, but we'd got there quite early and they already had a big pile of cans that they'd obviously caught that morning.

Anyway, Dad started to turn the boat round when one of the men started throwing stones at us and the boat. As the man was holding a beer can that he'd just caught, his aim wasn't that good, and luckily, he only hit the back of the boat, but he started shouting at Dad that the canal wasn't there for boats, it was there so that he could do his fishing,

While the big pile of beer cans did indicate that it was a good place to fish, Dad told him that the turning round place was there for boats to use, but the beer-fisher didn't agree and followed us back up the canal still throwing stones and shouting rude words.
Mum took some photos of him in case we bumped into him again, and eventually, he turned round and went back down the canal so that he could fish for some more cans.

We did eventually find somewhere to park so that we could do some shopping, but I think we're all agreed that we won't go back to Coventry any time soon, just in case we hit the beer-fishing season again.

Just in case anyone is tempted to go down there, here is his picture.................

XX Beau

STOP ME BEER-FISHING WILL YOU ????????

Beau and the Biking Bankers

Marple Junction, Macclesfield Canal

I'm not at my best first thing in the morning.
Not quite as bad as Dad, who often has acute attacks of 'Vague' which generally follow acute attacks of 'Thirst' the night before.

The other morning, as usual, we were about to set off to check on my local 'p-mails'; Dad was clipped onto my lead to stop him from wandering off, and I'd checked to see which side of the boat the water was on. The final check is needed because sometimes Dad parks the boat on the left side of the canal, and sometimes he parks it on the right. Getting it wrong can lead to an unwanted early morning bath.......

With Dad firmly in tow, I'd just stepped off the boat when WHOOSHHHHH.........as this machine went flying past, just missing my front paws..........

I looked up and saw, disappearing down the towpath, two wheels which seemed to be supporting a huge, shining black backside, which had a wide, dirty brown stripe going all the way up it.
This split-second image looked just like the rear view of a huge black labrador with a bad case of the 'runs'.

This near-miss was sufficient to bring Dad out of his bout of the 'Vagues' and he started a really good rant using some words that I hadn't heard since he stubbed his bare foot on the wooden step of the shower-block.
I'm not sure what a lot of the words meant but I think it was mostly to do with Mountain Bikers and Merchant Bankers, whatever they are.........

I'd pretty much finished updating my p-mails on the towpath, and anyway, Dad was beginning to drag his feet, so I pulled his lead back towards the boat, thanking my stars that we hadn't met any more Merchant Bikers during our walk.

No sooner had we turned round when there was a sound like thunder rumbling along the towpath behind us. Dad, who had quickly relapsed back into a 'Vague' whilst I was p-mailing, hesitated just long enough to nearly get trampled underfoot as a solid wall of runners, of all shapes and sizes in brightly coloured T-shirts, swept along the towpath.

All the T-shirts had the same words printed on the back which said something like 'Run For Your Life'.

After the morning we'd had, we didn't need telling twice.......................

xx Beau

                                                    I feel safer here for the moment....................

Beau and the 'Canal of Monsters'

Hassall Green Locks, Trent & Mersey Canal

After a week spent with the constant worry that we'll run into the whales, Dad has come to his senses, and we have turned round to go back. (He said that he wasn't worried, but to my untrained eye, we seem to be going back a lot faster than when we came)........

We found a turning round space near a town called El Smear, which Dad said is Spanish for dirty windows. Because our boat is so long, if we hadn't turned round there, then we would have had to go on towards the whales for at least another two days, and, if I heard Dad right, we'd have had to run over two huge 'aqua-ducks' on the way.
As if the whales and the huge sheepdogs with numbers on their bums weren't bad enough, on this canal it seems you need to run the gauntlet of outsized wildfowl as well!!

No sooner had we escaped the 'Canal of Monsters' as I had come to call it, then Dad took us onto another new stretch, which in a few days, will bring us to a town where, he says, they make all the salt.
With the amount that he puts on his chips, I expect we'll be buying it by the boxfull.....

In the meantime, I'm going to lie on my bed and dream of less stressful times, when all I had to worry about was whether Mum would be putting homemade gravy on my bicuits, or whether Dad will find a place to park the boat where I can have a game of football.

As for the 'Canal of Monsters', well I won't be too sad if we never go there again.
Dad says that I worry too much and that loads of boats go up there every year.

He didn't say how many of them came back though.....................


xx Beau

                                         Keeping an eye out for the massive Aqua Ducks..............

Watch Out!!....Here Be Whales....

Willeymoor Lock - Llangollen Canal

Dad's taken a diversion onto a canal that we've not been down before. The book he's been reading says that it's mostly nice countryside, but, if I've heard him right, after a couple of days we'll be running into whales...............WHALES!!!....are you kidding me???
I've seen the programmes on the telly.........and they are huge; even that Attenborough bloke said that they are the largest animal on the planet, and Dad's cool about running into some, on a narrow canal, in the next couple of days!!

Mum says 'Don't worry, Dad knows what he's doing'....
That might have been true in the past, but he's been putting away the rabbit cider for the past couple of days and I'm not sure that his 'compost' is entirely 'mentis' if you know what I mean.

Whilst we've been cruising headlong towards certain cretacean doom in the shape of the worlds largest animal, I've noticed that other animals around this area are much bigger than normal as well.
Take for instance the size of the local sheepdogs......
Dad took a photo of one the other day and it's absolutely massive......Definitely on different biscuits to the stuff I have in my bowl everyday...(thank heavens).
It would appear that they aren't that clever at remembering where they live either, because nearly all of them have got their house number painted on their bums in case they forget...



A Local Sheepdog with its House Number on its bum....

I'll let you know how we get on with the whales.

xx Beau

 



"Are You off a Boat??"

Audlem Locks - Shropshire Union Canal

I dont like roads......everything seems to happen so fast when you're by a road.

Living on a boat that creeps along slower than Dad can walk back from the Pub means that, when you do come to a road, it's a real culture shock.
For the past few weeks, the fastest thing I've seen is a poodle chasing a pidgeon, which wasn't exactly scintillating; but when we got to a place called Market Drayton, Mum and Dad needed to go to the shops and decided to take me with them so that I could help them find their way back.

Apparently, when they were here last time, they went to the Market Drayton Midweek Market, (try saying that with a mouthful of Wagg Complete Worker Biscuits), and they found a butcher selling rabbits. Now Dad, being an afficianado of anything that can be cooked in beer or cider, decided that they should try and get some more to put into the freezer, (the rabbit, not the cider).

Anyway, it was whilst we were on this quest that we were stopped by a woman of a certain age who demanded to know whether we were 'off a boat'.

How could she know..........was it the nautical bandana which I wear with such a jaunty and carefree elegance?, or was it Dad's rolling walk down the road, reminiscent of sailors back on dry land after months at sea.
Could she have been on one of the boats that Dad has accidentally 'made contact with' in the last few weeks, heaven knows there has been enough of them.

It turned out to be none of the above; the lady had walked past our boat by the canal and had seen pictures of me and my other 'blog' stuff in the back window, and, remembering my stunning good looks, had recognised me in the street!!

Notwithstanding this demonstration of the fame, (but not the fortune) of having a wide-ranging blog audience, the hunting trip itself was a failure and Dad didn't get his rabbit. According to the butcher, we'd had the wrong type of rain, or some such rubbish, over the Winter, and there wasn't a rabbit to be had, anywhere.
But Dad, ever the optimist, bought the cider anyway...........just in case.......

xx Beau 

'Quick!!!  There's another Collie like me in the water!!!!

Bedding Down, Stourbridge Style.....

Wombourne, Stafford & Worcester Canal

Now that he's filled up the boat with beer and bacon, we have left the big shopping place at Merry Hill and Dad says that Birmingham's behind, is behind us.

We went round a place called Stourbridge, and if I wore a hat (which I don't because of my ears), I would take it off to the local people in praise of their consideration towards the canal wildlife.
They have selflessly (and apparently without bothering about the cost), provided the canalside ducks, coots and moorhens with an array of quilts, sleeping-bags and old mattresses so that they can be nice and comfortable at night. I think that they run a sort of food-parcel scheme as well, because the empty plastic boxes and bags, and the shopping trolleys that they were brought in, have all been left out to be picked up by the local good folks the next day.

Dad was quite upset when we accidentaly picked up one of the ducks quilts around the propeller thingy at the back of the boat. He had to stop the engine under a bridge so that he could pull it all out. I can understand his concern at having ruined one of the ducks beds, but looking around, there were plenty more that they could use instead, so I couldn't quite see why he was getting so wound up about it.

Anyway, once we got the engine going again, we finally left the Stourbridge wildlife paradise, and have now turned onto another canal which is going to take us Northwards on the next part of our Spring adventure.

One thing I noticed straight away is that there are no mattresses, quilts, sleeping bags or food boxes round here, so it's hardly surprising that there isn't much wildlife either. On the up-side, it might mean that Dad isn't going to get upset at slicing a ducks bedding to pieces with the boat again, at least for a bit.......

In the meantime, if you are around the Stourbridge canal area and you see someone throwing bedding into the canal, do take the time to have a chat to them about their wildlife conservation work, otherwise they'll think that nobody cares................

xx Beau

If only we had some to spare, this would be a great place to throw in some more bedding for the ducks.....

Farewell, Windmill End

Dudley No.1 Canal, Merry Hill

Well, we stayed a week, but the time has come to continue my adventures. So it's farewell to all my mates in the Windmill End Gang.
I don't know many of the names of the guys that I met, though there were definitely two called Max, and Max the Collie was an ace footballer even though his owner didn't know it before he met me.
I met Alan who already had a Collie, and now has a young pup to look after. I've seen the pictures and he's really cute (the puppy not Alan), but then again, I was cute at that age, and look at me now........

The trip along the canal to the Black Country Museum went quite well, at least Mum and Dad seemed to enjoy it. I, apparently, wasn't allowed in unless I was in the Guides, or some such silly rule, so I had to stay and guard the boat; which has its compensations, such as having the whole double-bed to recline upon instead of having to share it.

We've come a few miles along the canal to a big shopping place called Merry Hill so that Dad can replace the beer and bacon that he had to 'get rid of' when the electric thingy that made the fridge work broke.
While we were going along, (or 'gooing' as they say round here), we came across loads of guys on the towpath sat on stools and dressed in green Army clothing.
They had really long poles with hooks on the end, which they seemed to be using to pull all sorts of plastic and rubbish out of the canal.
One guy had a huge lump of it on the end of his hook, and although his mates were laughing, he didn't look that pleased. If he'd had gone a bit further along the path, there was a massive patch of stuff caught under a bridge and he could have pulled out huge chunks of it all day with his pole.

Got to go now, 'cos Mum and Dad are back from the shops and I need to get off the bed and pretend I've been on guard all the time they've been away

xx Beau





Note the absence of ducks and geese on the banks............

  

'Brum' Revisited

Dudley No.2 Canal, Windmill End

On our travels last September, we went round one side of a place called 'Brum', which I think Dad really liked, because he said that he was glad that he'd seen the back of it.....
Which is all the more confusing because on this trip, we've come around another way and Dad said 'I thought the other way was bad!!'......
Anyway, whether we like it or not (and I'm not sure that we do), it seems that to get to wherever it is we're heading for, we've either got to go around the front side, or the back side, and I'm still not sure which Dad actually prefers.
Personally, I've had a great time, 'cos there are loads of other dogs here to play with, and I've picked up some really good tips on stalking and bashing the geese and ducks that have gathered near our parking place.
Mum says that the geese and ducks have gathered here to look for their mates, but obviously they've got their dates wrong, because they've been here over a week now and their mates still haven't turned up. Unlike the geese, Dad normally meets his mates in the pub. In fact, more often than not, he relies on them to help him remember where he's parked the boat.

This weekend, we're supposed to be going to a 'Living Museum'. Mum says it's a place where all the people dress up in old-fashioned clothing and pretend to work just like they did in the old days.......sounds like Dad will fit right in............

xx Beau



The old decoy duck routine still works....

Aint sleepin'............Just thinkin'.........



We're Still Here...

Wootton Wawen, Stratford upon Avon Canal.

Things have moved on since last I wrote....but we haven't. The thing at the back of the boat which makes the electric for the fridge where Dad keeps his beer and bacon has stopped working.

There's been a lot of teeth sucking, head scratching and trips to a shop which sell bits and pieces for broken cars; which is a bit odd 'cos the thing that's broken is on a boat.

If I've got it straight, there's bits for cars which can be used as bits for boats, but bits on boats can't be used as bits for cars unless they are Land Rovers or Tractors.....I hope that you're following this....
Anyway, the bit that should be used on a Land Rover (if it was made just after the war, but not on a Friday afternoon), can be used on a boat as long as it's green, and is exactly the thing that we had to have to get the power back onto Dad's beer and bacon fridge, otherwise all the beer will have to be drunk, and the bacon turned into butties to stop it all from going off.

It's taken so long to get the boat bit from the car place that there isn't much beer or bacon left anyway, so I'm wondering why we're bothering, but doubtless there will be a trip to the beer and bacon emporium before too long in order to re-stock the fridge now that the electric is, apparently, working properly.

When we finally get moving again, I'll let you know where we are. 

xx Beau

P.S.      Not many berries left in the hedgerows...................................

On The Road Again....Sort Of..

Wootton Wawen, Stratford Canal

After 5 months of doing not a lot except for keeping the Wharf a 'Duck Free' zone, apparently, the time has come for us to go out and about on the boat to meet the public at large, (and since Christmas, some are larger than others!!) No offence Dad......
This week has seen a lot of to-ing and fro-ing, with Dad and Mum sorting out the final, essential bits and pieces, without which, apparently, its not safe to set out on our travels. A lot of these 'essentials' seem to be in liquid form, which Dad says is easier to transport than solids.
I'm pleased to see that a sack of my 'working dog' food has also made it onto the back of the boat although Dad did say he wasn't going to buy it any more because, after 4 years of putting it in my bowl, I've never done a days work yet....I could be wrong, but I think that he's trying to be just a little bit cheeky.

So far, we have made it to a place called Wootton Wawen which is only about 10 miles from where we started out from, but it has taken us 2 days to get here. Dad says that we are heading 'up North' towards a place called Macclesfield.
I've seen the map and its right near the top, and though I might not be the the sharpest pencil in the box, I've worked out that (a) We haven't packed enough dog biscuits for me, (b) we haven't packed enough beer for Dad and (c) I'm going to be a lot older by the time I get back.

Got to go now now because there is some large public coming past that might not know how cute I am....

Keep watching this site in case something interesting happens.....

xx Beau



Watch Out Ducks!!!!!




Beau.........Stile Guru



It's That Time of Year Again

Stratford Upon Avon Canal

Since we got back from our travels in September, I don't seem to have had 5 minutes to myself to update my Blogsite. My computer seems to have been in constant use by Dad, who is either playing games, fixing 'bugs'..( in summer, he just swatted them), or trying to find even cheaper sausages to supplement my meagre dog food rations, on something called a 'Google'.

Apparently, this time of year is called 'festive', and involves Mum and Dad going out nearly every day to buy more food and stuff than we used in the whole of the summer, and then complaining that there isn't anywhere to put it on the boat. There's so much stuff in the pantry that Mum and Dad now have to sit on the other side of the boat to stop it from tipping over, and the freezer door is being held shut with a piece of wood jammed against the wardrobe.
The back of the boat is full of carrier bags which Mum says that Dad is not to look in, (though I've caught him sneaking a peek when she's not around). The back of the car is full of carrier bags which Dad says that Mum mustn't look in either, but I guess that she's also sneaking a look while he's not around............(and they say that Border Collies are devious...............

There's a lot of stuff being cooked and baked in the oven, some of which has come my way by using either the 'cute' look or, if that fails, the 'half-starved pathetic' look. (Which is how I got re-homed from the Dogs Trust all those years ago.........it never fails!!)

There is a wonderful smell of cooked ham wafting around the boat at the moment, so I'll have to go and put my miserable face on.....you never know, something tasty could come of it.

Dad is doing some planning for our next trip in the Spring, so I'll be continuing my tales of boating adventures sometime in March. In the meantime, I hope that you all have a good 'festive' season and will join me again in the New Year.

XX Beau

'STILL LOOKIN' GOOD....................

Back to Base, and Back to School

Stratford upon Avon

Well, 6 months after we left, we're back where we started from.
Dad says that we've covered over 700 miles, and Mum says she KNOWS that she has done over 600 locks!....

I've been to some great places while we have been away........Thanks to Rosie the Rottie, I learnt to play football in Berkhamsted, saved an ungrateful man from getting carried away by a kite in Hackney, and won a prize in a Dog Show at the Rickmansworth Festival.
Between times, ducks, geese and pigeons have learnt to be a bit more alert on the towpath in the mornings, but in Tewkesbury, the sheep didn't seem to be that bothered.........

I've met some great people.......(who could forget 'The Boys from Norway' that we met in a pub at Lowsonford)...in fact, most of the people I met seemed to be at pubs............there's a story in there somewhere.....

Anyway, 'back to base' means that it's also 'back to school', because, for over 6 months, Dad's not done any agility work, (except for carrying a tray of beer glasses down the pub steps), which means that he needs to get back in training.

For those that don't know, Dog Agility takes place in a big field which has got up to 20 numbered obstacles set out on it.
The dog owners walk around the field, taking note of the numbers of each obstacle..........then they each take it in turns to RUN around the field, as fast as they can, making sure that they go round the obstacles in the right order.
Just so us dogs don't get bored, we are allowed to run around with them, and sort of 'drop hints' as to which obstacle is next...............
The winner of the game is the owner who gets all of the obstacles in the right order, in the fastest time.

When I first started taking Dad to Agility, he was hopeless! He kept missing out numbers, taking shortcuts and generally not keeping his mind on the job. Even when I barked at him to show him the next obstacle, he would go the wrong way, or trip over me.....I began to think he would never get the hang of it.......
Well now he hasn't been to school for a while, I've a suspicion that he's forgotten everything I've ever taught him, so it might be back to the 'bottom class' for a while...................the shame of it!!

I'll let you know how he gets on....

xx Beau

'You MUST remember this!!!

'Where's he gone NOW!!'

Beau on 'Brum'

Lapworth, Stratford upon Avon Canal

At last, things are back to normal. To coin a phrase, I am now 'back in good odour', my collar has been restored to its original colour, and apart from a few muddy droplets on the ceiling above Mum's chair, you'd never know that our last 'misunderstanding' happened at all.

We are now heading back to our base at Stratford, but we have taken an alternative route back, 'Just to see what it's like'.
So, for the last few days, we have been going round a place called 'Brum', and it certainly is 'different'.......

Brum is a really warm place, all of the year round. I know that, because most of the buidings I saw from the boat have had holes put in the windows to let more air in. The really warm buildings have had their roofs taken off as well.........

Brum has a lot of artists, who have been very busy brightening up the canals by putting writing and pictures all over the sides of buildings and most of the bridges.
Because it is such a long way round 'Brum' on the tow paths, every few yards or so, the usual number of bench seats has been added to with matresses, and I even saw some old quilts and sleeping bags for people to use if they got really tired.

Another popular facility seemed to be places along the towpath where you could buy drinks. Nearly every alley way and bridge had a group of people who had been served, and there were piles of cans and bottles around, so there was obviously quite a demand for the service.
Dad had been complaining that there hadn't been many places to get beer round 'Brum', but I reckon that if we'd stopped and asked the guys under the bridges, they could have sold us some, or at least told us where to go............................

Even though the colour of the canal water had been different to what we'd been used to, I thought that 'Brum' was a very interesting place, and a real change to some of the towns we've been through.

I know that Dad thought it had been worth coming this way round because he said that he was 'glad to see the back of it'. I guess that means that one day we'll go another way round and see the front of it.

xx Beau

OK, I promise, no more rolling!!

Local artists really made an impression

Beau and The Soap Opera

Autherley Junction, Shropshire Union Canal

Well, a few days have passed, and things seem to be getting back to normal.
I've been thinking though, how, even when doing things for the best of reasons, misunderstandings are apt to arise.
Take, for example, the recent Incident of the Unknown Substance ( see previous Blog posting 'Beau Smells Trouble'.

Misunderstanding No.1
I thought that Dad would share my curiosity regarding the stuff that I rolled in and brought back to the boat; I WAS WRONG...Having got it all over his hands when he grabbed my collar, he was, selfishly, only interested in wiping it off on the grass.

Misunderstanding No.2
I thought that, if Dad wasn't interested, then Mum certainly would be, so I ran down the boat and put my head in her lap so that she could get a good look at what I'd brought back.
THIS WAS A MISTAKE....Mum just shouted 'MIKE!!..He's rolled in something!..Get him out of here!!

Having just finished cleaning off his hands in the grass, Dad heard Mum shout, and came running down the boat..

Misunderstanding No.3
In case he tripped over me on his way in, I thought I'd better get out of his way, so I jumped up onto the bed.
THIS WAS ANOTHER MISTAKE....Seeing me lying on the bed, Dad grabbed me by the collar to get me back onto the floor, but, as my collar was still carrying a reasonable quantity of the unknown substance, Dad, once again, had it all over his hands.........

The sticky stuff that I had brought back to the boat was, by now, starting to flake and drop onto the floor in lumps, so Dad decided that he had to get me cleaned up as soon as possible. His decision was to utilise the shower. THIS TIME IT WAS HIS MISTAKE........

Dad got the shower running, opened the door and tried to shove me in. Out of politeness, and as it was me that had got him covered in the stuff, I thought that he would probably want to come in too....
So, whilst Dad shoved, I suddenly walked forwards....and viola!!...not a huge amount of room, but we were both in!
APPARENTLY, THIS WAS ALSO WRONG!!...For several reasons.....
1. Dad still had all of his clothes on, though to be honest, they would have needed washing anyway
2. The shower door was still open, and the bathroom floor was already awash
3. The nice-smelling squirty soap that he needed, was still outside of the shower.......

Dad turned off the water, got out of the shower in his wet clothes and said 'WAIT! while I get a towel. (I suppose he wanted to dry himself off).

Well, I couldn't wait for Dad to come back, and I knew that Mum would want to see me now that I smelt nice again, so I ran down the boat and shook off all of the dirty water in front of her so that she could see how lovely and clean I was.......

But apparently, that was a mistake as well...............................

xx Beau

Beau Smells Trouble

Norbury Wharf, Shropshire Union Canal

There's a certain pattern to the start of my day....it's been honed to perfection during my time on the boat, and Dad hasn't been the easiest of people to train; but I'm getting there.

It's my duty to get everybody up and about,..... whether they want to or not.
If Dad pretends to be asleep, even though its gone 5:00 in the morning, then a lick on the elbow, or the foot will normally be enough to stir things up..- failing that, a cold wet nose applied to his anatomy will generally do the trick.

After I have breakfasted heartily on dried biscuits, mixed with low-priced, low-pork, low-taste sausages, it's time to leave the ship....or as Mum puts it, "Get him out from under my feet", ...I think that she's talking about Dad, but I'm not really sure.

Out on the Towpath, (so called because it's where dogs tow their owners along), and it's time to pick up my P-mail, leave replies and do a bit of waste-disposal.
Being well-trained, Dad always picks up behind me, predictably saying " Good grief Beau, what HAVE you been eating?"

I take the view, "Well, you're the one that fed it to me.....it's low-priced, low-pork, low-taste lookalike sausages...You know what they say, Rubbish in, Rubbish out, so what do you expect?"

At this point, we would normally return to the boat, but today, I was getting a sniff of something rather interesting a bit further up the track....something that had to be investigated.
Dad didn't really want to go any further, his mind was already on toast, peanut butter and a hot cup of tea on the boat, but such considerations are as nothing to the curious collie................

Dad called me, (I think), and started back to the boat. I adopted the cunning disguise of the half-deaf  sheepdog which has served me so well in the past, and carried on towards the distant, inviting smell.

When I got there, I have to admit, I couldn't really work out quite what it was. It certainly smelled nice, it was a greenish, yellowy, brown-black lump of stuff that reminded me of Dad's experiment with Curried Faggots..........

Dad was still heading back to the boat, so it was no use waiting for him to come and identify it....I didn't have anything to carry it back in, so what else could I do but smear a bit under my chin, round my ears, on my back and under my collar..........
Having made sure that I had a good sample, I ran back and caught up with Dad just as he got to the boat.

He looked at me, turned up his nose, and his eyes began to water......He grabbed me by the collar to stop me getting on the boat.......
"OH BEAU!!...What in heavens name have you rolled in!!!!"

I thought, " Well, now you've got it all over your hands, You tell me"..........

I don't think we've heard the last of this episode...

xx Beau

Beau and The Silence of The Lambs

Tewkesbury, River Avon

We've had to leave Evesham.

Since the episode of The Phantom Spaniel, I've developed a bit of a twitch when the hedge rustles, and I suffer from separation anxiety when I can't see my food-bowl.
Dad said that if we didn't move, then he'd have to take me to Harley Street..........My God!..they've even named a road after him!!!!

So, on the run again - another 3 days on the river and we've parked in a town where our river, going down, meets another river, also going down. I can't help but feel that one decent-sized river would have been better.

Anyway, the day after we arrived, Dad took me along the road to a place called The Ham. He said it was called that because, in the old days, they used to keep pigs on it;....but now............my word!...it's full of sheep, hundreds of them, as far as the eye can see.
Dad just said 'There you are boy, what do you think of that lot'........WHAT DO I THINK!!!!....
Listen, I've seen that telly program 'One Dog and His Man', they only use about half a dozen really old stunt sheep that have done a deal with the sheepdogs to go through a few fences and stuff, whilst some old guy, who has to lean on a stick, tries to whistle through his false teeth, and keeps shouting things like 'Awee!', and 'Lidoon!', and 'Coom Buy!'.

Now, I've got a rough idea what to do, but with this lot?........please....................

My Collie intuition told me not to look at the whole thing, but to break the problem down into bite-size-chunks, and deal with that.

So I spotted a group of about a dozen or so sheep that looked like they might like to play, so I crept forward and gave them 'The Collie Eye'.
This is where the inate power of the sheepdog is used to dominate and control the sheep in order to do his bidding. What normally happens to sheep given 'The Eye', is that one or two of them will give the alarm and they will attempt to run.........which means that 'The Chase' is on....

Except that these sheep didn't......
    
Didn't sound the alarm
            Didn't scatter to the four winds
                   Didn't stop eating grass
                            Didn't care less..........................

Barking, standing on tip-toe to look big, rolling on the ground whilst balancing an orange squeaky ball on the nose.....................nothing impressed these sheep.

Maybe Dad will learn to whistle, and get me some old 'TV Stunt Sheep' to play with for Christmas.....

XX Beau

Beau gives them 'The Eye'

Beau and The Phantom Spaniel

Evesham Marina, River Avon

The days of climbing ladders to go to bed are over.....After what seems an age, (only 5 days actually), Dad's bottom is now apparently sufficiently coated in black paint that it will not rust or leak for the next 4 years.......
Personally, I can't see the difference, but Mum says that she can when she looks at it from a certain angle!!

With things getting back to what I call normal, I've had a lot more time to relax and become attuned to my surroundings.
It was whilst I was 'attuning' on my day-bed, that I first thought I saw the rear-end of a Springer Spaniel disappearing through a hole in the hedge, near the front of the boat.
I didn't see it again that day, and put it down to a trick of the light.
However, the next day, there was a distinct rustling in the bushes, and though I admit that I wasn't at the peak of my alertness, I would have sworn that I saw the shape of a Spaniel, silhouetted against the fence.....but again, it didn't reappear; although on my excursions later in the day, I definitely caught the unmistakeable whiff of Spaniel near to one of my p-mail sites.

Nothing happened for a couple of days after that, so I naturally assumed that I had been mistaken, which, I guess is why I let my guard drop just a little.......because the following day, I almost, definitely, possibly, might have seen the Spaniel shape once more, outlined against the fence,... but this time I was ready....

                         Off the boat......head down......tail up.......nose in search mode...............
There was definitely something there......in the hedge, moving steadily and with great purpose.

So, into the 'Collie-crouch', head down, bum up, cunningly concealed behind a blade of grass...the perfect ambush position!!

It's all about stealth, cunning, and great patience you know.... You don't learn it; the Border Collie is born with it...at one with Nature, and Master of the waiting game........so I waited, and I waited...................

Being a master of the stealthy ambush, I am also quick to realise that if the trap is not sprung after an hour, then something has gone wrong.
Was the blade of grass too small, did my ears give it away, was the smell of 'eau-de-fox' dabbed under the collar a bit too much ???

Either way, it was getting late, and the Inner Dog needed to be fed, so it was a somewhat sad return to the boat, but with the prospect of tucking into the remains of my chicken and biscuit breakfast to cheer me up.
...............Except that when I got there, not a scrap remained...........

The bowl?....licked clean and sparkling like new.
The plastic floor mat?...ditto. 
Under the kitchen units?...pristine...........

How he'd got from Stratford I don't know, but Harley had been....had hoovered up....and was gone.........

xx Beau

I was never there!!

The art of concealment!!

Beau and People in High Places

Evesham Marina, River Avon

I've hardly got over the shock of taking 4 months to get to London and back when Dad said that we were off again!!
If I heard him right, he said that he had to get his bottom painted black this week, or it would go rusty and start letting water in. Apparently getting it painted once every 4 years is sufficient to keep him watertight.

We left early in the morning, before even my mate Harley (the Springer Spaniel) had called into the boat to hoover up the last of my breakfast biscuits.
Despite our early departure, there were a couple of people about to wave us goodbye, which seemed a bit over-the-top when we were only going off to get Dad's bottom waterproofed.
There were loads more people around when we went under the bridge into town. This time they were pointing at me, taking loads of pictures and talking in strange languages.

After 3 long days on the river, I was getting really fed up, but finally we arrived at a big boat park which was so full that Dad had to park right under a huge rusty crane that didn't look too safe, so we all got off. It was just as well really, because no sooner had we stepped onto dry land when this huge machine burst into life, picked up my home, swung it right up into the air and dumped it on some concrete, right by the side of the river.

I decided then and there that the people in this boat park were crazy.....there we were, all standing on the grass and they've put the place where I live on blocks of wood so tall that we can't get back onto it!!!!

Where are we going to sleep?.
                                         How's Dad going to get his beer?,
                                                                                      HOW AM I GOING TO GET MY TEA???!!!....

Dad went to speak to the man that had picked up our boat, and I guess that he must have told him of my worries, because he came back with a huge set of steps, pushed them against the back of the boat and left, saying 'There you go'...                  THERE YOU GO!!!.......I'm a dog, not a rock-climber!!,
I don't know about stairs, I've never had to climb ten foot to get to my food-bowl before, and I don't think Dad's used to high altitudes either.

Naturally I thought that Dad was going to take me up the steps by carrying me, like he did when I was a young pup...but I was mistaken!!.....
Dad thought that because I go over jumps at Agility, that I would do the steps.....but he was mistaken!!

Mum, of course, as the most practical person in the family, came up with the answer....She simply said 'If you two don't stop faffing around and get onto the boat THERE WON'T BE ANY TEA!!'
So, putting our worries aside in the name of family harmony, and desparately in need of sustenance, we were soon up the steps and leaning over the back rail to look at the ground...many feet below, and got to wondering how, now that we are up...how do we get down???...
                       ...........and after all of this trauma, when and how are they going to paint Dad's bottom?? ...

Doubtless Mum will have an answer for that as well...

xx Beau

Beau and The Hidden Box of Torture

Stratford upon Avon, Stratford Canal

We've been here for about 10 days so far, and I think that Dad is getting bored. He's polished the boat - twice, and even scrubbed off the black gooey stuff that comes off the chimney onto the roof in Winter. He's put black polish on the stove, cleaned my paw prints off the radiator in the bedroom, and now he's really getting under Mum's feet. (So that makes two of us!!)

There's been a black box behind Mums chair for as long as I can remember. It's had books on it, been covered with an old dog blanket, and I think that Dad used it once to stand on when he fixed a light in the roof.
Anyway, yesterday, with a shout of "I know what I'll do!!", Dad leapt, (as only a 61 year old can leap), dived into the corner behind Mums chair and dragged the long-hidden box into the daylight for the first time in years.
From out of its depths, came an object of shiney red, with little white buttons all over it. Within seconds, Dad had pulled it apart and pressing some of the buttons, produced a noise like an asthmatic cat being scalded with boiling water.

Squeezing and pulling and pressing of white buttons went on for what seemed to be several lifetimes; my ears were ringing and Mum had long ago left in search of some peace, standing under the loudspeakers at the railway station.
Dad finally said that he'd practised enough for one day and carefully put the squealing red monster back into the black box.
Peace and quiet eventually returned, my ears stopped ringing, and Mum came back with a small bag from the B&Q place.

The black box has gone back behind the chair again, but now it has a shiney padlock on it.....I could be mistaken, but last night, I thought I heard the tinkle of keys being quietly dropped over the side of the boat.

xx Beau

Time Travel

Stratford-upon-Avon, Stratford Canal

We've arrived back to the place we started out from. When we left, there was snow on the ground and my p-mails were frozen within minutes of being posted. Now that we are back, its raining and there is thunder and lightning, which doesn't really bother me, but Dads a bit worried about being zapped on his shiney bald-spot, (or solar-panel as he calls it).

Anyway, as soon as we got back, my mate Harley the Springer Spaniel, who had obviously missed me, made himself at home by coming onto the boat and clearing my food-bowl.....twice!!   He even hoovered-up all of my spare biscuits that had gone under the kitchen units and behind the cooker that I kept for those moments when I felt snacky in the night.....

Although I was a bit miffed, Mum said that the sharing of food is the sign of true friendship, but I don't think that sharing was uppermost in Harleys mind, and true friendship wears thin when night-starvation sets in......

Sometimes, when I appear to be asleep, I'm really listening in to conversations that are going on around me, listening out for key-words like 'Vets', 'Chicken' and 'Walk'. Anyway, Mum and Dad were talking to some people about our latest trip, when these people said how strange it was that it had taken us 4 months to get from Stratford to London, when we could have driven there in a couple of hours..............A COUPLE OF HOURS !!!!!....are you kidding me??  I've been stuck on this boat for 4 months, I've been tied up outside pubs, been dribbled on by Rotties, growled at by Staffies with tattoos, been shouted at by kite-flyers, taunted by sheep and disrespected by ducks...............all to get to London when we could have got there and back in a day!!!!!!
Mum tried to calm me down.....she said that a chap once wrote 'It is not about the destination, it is about the journey'. Well, all  I can say is that the destination wasn't all that good, and the journey took so long that when I got back, I had to forfeit my biscuit stash to a Spaniel......I bet that chap never thought about that when he wrote his book......

I'm going to lie on my bed and stare at flies on the ceiling for a bit.....

xx Beau