'No Regrets' (Listeners' questions - 1)

JOURNAL ENTRY

14^th September, Thursday

“Thin drizzle.
The jackdaws sound like
Monosyllabic gulls this evening.
Woundwort heals the breach between
The canal and me.
Red berries.
Some days that is all you need:
Rain and red berries.”

[MUSIC]

WELCOME

The new moon is hiding, although the sky is polished clear and dark. There is barely a breath of wind and the canal is mirror flat. The night waits in anticipation for its silvered sliver to appear.

This is narrowboat Erica narrowcasting into the night to you wherever you are.

You made it! I am so glad you came. I was hoping you'd be here. The night air has gained that damp autumnal chill, so come inside where it is warm and cosy. The kettle is on, the biscuit barrel is full so step aboard and make yourself comfortable and welcome aboard.

[MUSIC]

NEWS FROM THE MOORINGS  

Last week’s heat has broken. On Sunday night, in the west a huge bank of cloud strobed and pulsed with silent lightning. A strangely eerie and compelling sight. Gradually the temperatures have subsided. The smell of woodsmoke in the evening and early morning as some of the boaters have resorted to lighting their stoves. If the days retain at least a hint of summer, the evenings and early mornings are more than a little autumnal.

Mornings are decorated with spiders’ webs and flecked diamond with dew. Sunsets have roared bronze-red over the valley. Once the rains came, the Cotswolds and further west the Malverns have carved their purple-blue spines onto the skyline. Nearer to home the dew has hugged the shadows until late morning.

It’s been a week of returning. Old faces reappearing, boats slipping into the mooring rings that they had wintered at. Flurries of activity. Getting the jobs done.

There’s a returning in the sky too. Wheeling flocks of rook, jackdaws meandering from tree to tree. The honking rasp of raven. On Friday the rooks and the ever-present sprinkling of jackdaws were in an uproar. Circling high in the sky, a smoke trail of them flustered and mobbed a buzzard. At least I think it was a Buzzard it was far too high for me to see properly, just a speck being mobbed by a fury of smaller specks. I have never seen rooks that high before. I have never really thought whether different species of bird have altitude ceilings. These rooks must have been close to theirs! Were they aware of the dizzying height that they had reached? Do they see perspective? The buzzard or whatever it was thermalling. Riding the uplift. The little dots wheeling around sometimes flailing across its path. It was having none of it and just carried on, holding its tight circling or warm rising air on unflapping wings. It was probably juveniles. They win their youthful spurs by these bouts of daring-do. From time to time one or two rooks peeled off rushing earthwards with ragged wings. From time to time, one would hector and parry with another, tumbling and clawing the air. Like children playing rough and tumble. That adrenal-fuelled rush. It all looked so human. You could almost hear their excited chatter. Higher up the buzzard and his harassing band had reached cloud base and vanished out of sight. I waited for a while to see the rooks return but the sky remained clear.

[MUSIC]

CABIN CHAT

[MUSIC]

QUESTIONS 1

12:22

What sort of 'mooring' do we have?

22:41

Can you cruise at night?

27:39

What prompted the move onto the boat and what did Donna feel about it?

35:06

After leaving the canal did we have any holidays on it and do you have any regrets?

SIGNING OFF

This is the narrowboat Erica signing off for the night and wishing you a very restful and peaceful night. Good night.

WEATHER LOG