Granny at Battlebridge Basin
Granny has just spent a couple of weeks at Battlebridge Basin. A big thank you to Martyn of Oothoon (boat and blog), whose berth I usurped while he was up in the Midlands.
Granny Buttons, for two weeks a cuckoo in his cosy Kings Cross nest, has now flown up to Cheshunt on the River Lee. As a continuous cruiser, I'm punctilious about not overstaying my allotted 14 days in any one 'neighbourhood'.
It was an interesting experience, being in a residential boat community for a while. However, I didn't spend enough time aboard to socialise with my neighbours.
I was alongside Bird-Song, which was a jolly reunification, because we tied up together for a fortnight back in 2002, at Oundle on the River Nene.
The most charming aspect of my stay was seeing the little communal kitchen garden - or is that an allotment? - which the moorers share. Tomatoes and potatoes were the only fruit/vegetables I noticed, but I'm really not a gardener, so I'm sure I missed many more.
I loved this 'allotment' in the Basin. Moorings need a domestic element, to prevent them from feeling like 'boat parks'.
Battlebridge Basin provides this garden in spades. Literally, in this case. The Basin 'allotment' is a product of the residents. Left to British Waterways, it would probably be simply another urban boat park.
The least charming aspect was finding that a tom cat had walked into my well deck during the night and sprayed his masculinity all over (see above/right).
Ugh! Two days later, the smell is still strong, and it's probably gone over my coir doormat, which will need replacing.
The moggy pictured at top couldn't have been the culprit - it's female, and was quick to come aboard and nuzzle up to me. Perhaps it was the one seen left (and hidden, above, in the grass).
As a mooring Battlebridge Basin isn't cheap - if Granny was to stay here, I'd not get much change out of £700 a month, and that's just to tie up - I'd still need a boat licence. However, it is secure, a prime mooring, one of the most convenient and best-serviced in the city, with electricity, cheap pump-out (£7), water and even a telephone line.
I think I'd chafe at being here permanently. Nestled tightly amongst other boats I was quickly feeling tied down and claustrophobic. The view is fixed, without a vista, and I was constantly worried at what the neighbours might think - if my midnight lights or radio were disturbing them, if they could sense my boat rocking as I moved from the bed to the loo during the night, if they could see me wandering about inside, half-naked.
Still, knowing I was just there for a fortnight, I milked the opportunity for all I could.
