A new Bridge for Brentford

Indeed, albeit one only partially across the Thames; from the north shore to Lots Ait; one of the islands just downstream of the Brent/canal outflow.

We spotted work starting on the old shed on the island a few weeks back - once a depot for the Thames Steam Tug & Lighterage Co (later less poetically Thames & General), whoi'd provide the motive power for trains of barges being towed from the Brentford Dock rail/river interchange into London's more central docks.

What's interesting is that while local word is that a 'leisure centre' is to be biult on the island, the internet tells me it's going to be developed as a boatyard and small business workshops, which is much more exciting; perhaps there's a bit of both.

I'm assuming the end of the footbridge is temporary; I can't imagine they wouldn't build a footbridge without ramp access these days.



here's another view of the bridge, taken through the security fence/gate on to Brentford High Street:



In a coincidence that could only be fairly called serendipitous, I spotted a previously unknown (to me) book about Brentford Dock, and the railway link to it, in the local library this morning:



It's an interesting read, and filled in a lot of the background for me, with a fair amount of canal related stuff too. When the GWR was built from Bristol to London, it was actually easier to get goods to central London's docks via canal from Bulls Bridge (very close to the railway at Hayes) and down to Brentford and the Thames, rather than by road from Paddington. Even this proved to be slow and expensive, so pretty soon the branch was built down to Brentford to get traffic straight into lighters; in operation for a hundred years until the shipping container and Beeching killed it off. There's a nice bit of snarking about the already extant LSWR line through Brentford (the current Brentford line, the station still being called 'Brentford Central' when I first moved here), too, and speculation that the three bridges road/canal/railway conjunction could have easily been avoided, and was mainly done to show off by Brunel...

The book is published locally by Dandelion Publications based on Brentford Dock itself, available, at least, in Brentford Library.

spotted in a bookshop

Not just any bookshop, but Barnard's bookshop in Uxbridge, as mentioned in Pearson's guide.



An intriguing looking children's book based on the canals, ostensibly about someone who runs away from the circus, let's just hope it's not based on John Major's early years.

From the publisher's website:

Peggy, a jolly woman of the waterway, is astonished to find a grubby 11-year-old Zed hiding in a cupboard on the narrowboat she is taking to Boswell’s Yard for repair. What do to with him? Peggy calls her friend Trip Boat Tim and his collie Barney to help. Unwilling to return a tearful Zed to his cruel uncle, they enlist the help of the local schoolteacher and policeman to contact Zed’s family and find out where he belongs.

Author Mike Simmons is reputed (as in I'm sure I read it five minutes ago but can't find it now) to live on a boat near London, and also finds inspiration in the works of Michael Morpurgo; sounds good to me.

unlikely poster boy

Tony of NB Universe was handed this on the towpath, recognised me and emailed it over. Apparently she wants more pictures of me, but I won't be playing ball - I'm barely a boater, but obviously I look like someone's image of one, and anyway, that hat is sadly now lost (actually a theatrical prop left behind by Cbeebies on one of their many studio moves).

Abandon hope, all ye who enter here

I only made it to Slough Canal Festival by bike this year, only having one day off that weekend. A few days later, however, I took Tortoise down to the road bridge to collect (a much delayed, but anyway) wood delivery. Having heard rumours of logs further down, I headed west. Access as far as the festival site a couple of bridges further down wasn't too bad, having had a few boats up and down (the trip boat did a sterling job of picking up rubbish on it's prop), but from there onwards, it was a nightmare. The rather unclear picture above is the view down the weedhatch; there's prop in there somewhere, but I'm not sure where. There's just so many platic bags, basically, and it's not going to get any better; more boats would at least pick them up out of the way for the rest of us, but there's nothing to go to on that stretch anyway, and the canal's full of plastic bags...

I gave up on finding any stashes of logs, but settled on a couple of flytipped pallets and the odd log or two which seems to have been fished out of the canal and dumped. It's a start.

man swims, press grounded

A late start at work allowed me to wander down to the Thames to see David Walliams swim past on the ebbing tide:


To be honest there wasn't much to see - a dot surrounded by support boats; it's the human endeavour that is the spectacle rather than a momentary glimpse. A few people were following him down the Kew side towpath, and on the Brentford side a smattering of pot banging, whistle blowing and flag waving marked his passing.

As Mr Walliams moved on, though; the following boat, containing the gentlemen & ladies of the press, er, didn't, just sat there revving it's outboard. There's a bank of gravel where the Brent joins the Thames, and they found it. At first the fourth estate took the opportunity for a photocall:


but, as the Walliams entourage disappeared around the corner to Kew Bridge, it was clear they weren't going anywhwere this side of the tide. Eventually the PLA launch 'Chelsea' came to the rescue and took off the journos:



The launch & crew just had to sit there; they were still there at midday as I left for work, and had another few hours to wait for the water:


Meanwhile, the tiny dinghy originally following the whole lot, protesting the levels of human effluent put into the water (but alas only so there's more fish for them to torture, being an angling organisation):


got into trouble itself, running down the outside of the press boat and beaching themselves on the island, before eventually heading off again:


Many thanks, by the way, to Mike Mason of dutch barge 'Serendipity' moored at the mouth of the Brent, who emailed me the press boat photos, which all happened after my camera battery had died. I've published them small deliberately; if any press types want to use any of them, I'll happily put you in touch with Mike but you can't nick them from here...

Oh, and...

Nice to see some of your have been using the little tickboxes below the posts, and possibly not without irony, either.

The were originally added to gently satirise another blog's self-aggrandisement options; but, like Lehrer giving up satire when Kissinger got the Nobel Peace Prize, that very blog I realise has either finally tipped into insanity or must be satire itself, it's the only explanation. So, bye bye tickboxes. Few noticed or cared.

testing, testing

after nearly a week of [mostly] traditional music, morris dancers, mud and cider, it seemed only appropriate to dig out something I did many, many years ago, albeit largely as a test for fun yet to come.

With apologies in advance to Kath & Neil...

Books: priceless

The image above was being pointed to on the internet here and there, and I approve wholeheartedly.

Books are a comfort, a reassurance that there's always more to discover. With a paperback in my pocket, I'm prepared for the most tedious of journeys, even being stuck for an extra two hours sitting just outside Crewe. I have more books than I have time to read, but that's OK, as I can see myself having a phobia of the opposite condition. I'm OK about weeding out the chaff, occasionally, stuff I'll never read, or more likely never read again. There's plenty more, and more will come in, from car boot sales, charity shops and the like.

Chatting to a homeless guy in Shepherd's Bush - about the book he was reading - he pointed out the free bookshop that was running in an empty unit in the shopping centre - Books for free*. You could debate whether money could be made for a charity for those books, but the concept that stuff can just be passed on is vital; whilst we have freecycle, and local arrangements such as leaving stuff out on the pavement, free shops should be much more widespread. Too much is thrown away as being no use to one person, when it's perfect for another.

And yet - at the other end of the spectrum - those books need to be made, and paid for. We found ourselves almost duty bound to support the little independent bookshop in Uxbridge, struggloing just off the High St. I love being able to go online to Amazon or Abebooks to find exactly what I want there and then, and I know I'm just as much as part of the problem as anyone, not to mention having a book as a few hundred kilobytes of data on our gadget of choice. We saw a lovely traditional bookshop in Deal in it's closing down death throes. Much as I love words, and the books that hold them, I don't pay enough for them. It's just like food; we should pay more for good food from local suppliers, and we don't, we buy crap from the supermarket.

To avoid finishing on a complete downer, here's how much I waste words; a colleague redacted a recent email, leaving the bits he considered relevant. Although I like to paint the bigger picture, he was largely right:



* more waffle - the book I found in here, like in a lot of places, something I would have never been looking for - is a book by Fred Basnett, a social romp based on his experiences as a young worker at Sellafield. I grew up in the area a few years later, but it's a serendipitous find, and a book I'll probably hang on to.

Another canal that isn't

This time, the Royal Military Canal




These two pictures are from Hythe, near the eastern end; it continues around what was the old coast, kind of, skirting the expanse of Romney Marsh & Dungeness. It wasn't really built for transportation, and last did any in 1909, I think, but now you can at least get an electric boat from town to the steam railway terminus. It has regular kinks to allow soldiers to shoot straight down it in the event of a Naploeonic invasion.

Back at Dungeness, taking dramatic pictures is akin to shooting fish in a barrel, although I know which activity I'd prefer. Here's a shot I suspect everyone takes*, taken around ten or more years ago, and a few days ago. It's a pretty timeless place anyway, only the missing mast shows the passage of time.






* even the mats on the bar in the pub where we waited for the bus had a variation on this view

Pallet Furniture

by the East London Furniture Pallet Project, seen at Camden Green fair last weekend. It's not just firewood...