Perivale - Leafy Morocco

Not far down the canal we embark on Perivale, our next destination on the central line. It's not long before we realise we have reached the wholesome paradise we have been dreaming of. A picture postcard of Autumnal loveliness, weeping willows, smoking chimneys, lush shades of evergreen and a view of Horsendon hill on one side. We moor up and go for a wander, half expecting similarly juxtaposed urban landscape as Greenford however we are pleasantly surprised by the surrounding area. The road to the station is bike friendly and has a homely peaceful suburban vibe to it with a large Tesco and a park 10 mins away.  Further along we come across an amazing cluster of Morroccan Shisha cafes and restaurants, bustling with hardcore Moroccan domino players and glowing majestically with lanterns and open coal fires. We could happily stay here for a while.And we do. There is a closure for 5 weeks further up the canal so we stay put for 6 weeks in total and get quite attached to the place.

Greenford - Soviet Russia

After a full day of driving we reach Greenford and are lulled into a false sense of security with the lush leafy canal. We moor up near a jolly looking pub called the 'The blackhorse' and fill up with water. According to the map there is a central line tube station 15 mins away. Perfect - connected to a legit tube that could get us all the way to work but with wholesome countryside vibes -What more could we want? Well not quite. When we go to explore we find ourselves in a grim post apocalyptic landscape riddled with industrial estates and angry looking characters bopping about.  The walk to and from the station was a catwalk of the best of these aspects and i suppose it didn't help that it literally rained every single day that we were there. There was an overwhelming feeling of hopelessness in the air and not a decent food shop or restaurant in sight. Despite this, the canal was beautiful and we stayed for the full 2 weeks, popping into the blackhorse for the odd pint and lapping up the bleakness in the knowledge that it would be short lived. We learned to almost enjoy the suburbia but when the feckless fortnight was over we gladly moved on with no love lost.

Dipping our toe in the big smoke

So after 5 weekends of driving the boat down we finally reached a destination that could technically be deemed as London - Uxbridge. Zone 6 on the tube, we'll take it. The canal is pretty here and there is a charming cluster of boats not far from the bridge leading to the station. It feels like we're still in the countryside. When we go to explore we find a cute looking town centre with a smearing of pigeonshit grottiness, gregs and more poundlands than hull. There's a decent indian restaurant for us to stuff our faces in and supermarkets to stock up on rations so we can't complain but not exactly one for tripadvisor. We stay here for 2 weeks, on the brink of nowhere, obeying the rules like eager school kids with a shiny apple for the canal and river trust monitors. Within that time our neighbouring boat sinks before our very eyes, such a grim thing to witness, is it an omen? We move on the day after, hoping and praying we have a solid hole free hull.

riddled with locks

there were literally hundreds of locks to get through,  all enormous and weighing tons. We took it in turns to drive/do the locks and the morning after always felt like we had been thrown down a flight of rocky stairs. Gonna have guns like hercules by the end of it.

License to cruise..

Every weekend we commuted straight from work to go and drive her further down towards London. It was clear we had so much to learn.  How could it be this easy for buttheads like us to acquire a 'License to cruise' with no experience whatsoever. We could capsize someones home, split a fibre  glass hull in half or endager wildlife but apparently you don't need to pass any test. There were several near crashes and we got stuck in shallow waters and reeds too may times however thankfully nothing fatal. The countryside from northampton to the Grand Union is stunning and the highlight was definitely going through the 'Blissworth tunnel', 45 minutes of total eery darkness with only the faint headlamp to light the way. When you come out of the other side it's like emerging from the ebony womb of satan and into the fluffy radiant fields of heaven. Our sallow skin has never felt so refreshed and our lungs can't gulp down the fresh unpolluted air fast enough. We could get used to this rural way of living but it so happens were making a b line for that urban jungle we are shackled to for the time being.

we bought a boat!

Such an honour to be able to own a home, especially one that moves! Way more exciting than paying off a mortgage for the rest of our lives to one that stays in the same place. We picked her up in North Hampton. She's a beauty, all rigged up for a self sustainable existence, plenty of solar panels and a diesel fuel burner to keep us toasty in the harsh upcoming winter months, 57 foot long which means she's suitable for the locks all the way up to Liverpool as this is the exact maximum measurement (seems like fate as im a scouser).
Now for learning to drive and getting her to London in one piece....

Land Vs Water

Having lived on boats in London for five years, permanently moored in the comfort zone of a marina, I had a very tame experience of living on the water. I loved everything about the lifestyle, from feeding the ducks and swans through my port hole in the morning and getting rocked to sleep by the gentle sway of a ship in the wind; to belly-flopping off the roof in the hot summer days.
A lot happened in those wonderful 5 years including boat hopping to various sized vessels and housemates coming and going. I found love, got married and lived on a pirate ship with a mast for a year next door to the huge ship I had called home for so long, but thankfully still spitting distance from the portholes of my aquatic friends. The pirate ship alas was sold and we had to.......move onto land.
I never thought this day would come but there seemed no other choice at the time.  It was devastating to leave our marina family whom we had become so close to. A top floor council flat in bustling Shadwell seemed a million miles from the serenity of boat life, however we never would have foreseen that it offered an unexpected kind of peace. Being so elevated connected us with the sky as opposed to water and we appreciated a whole new element for a year. I reveled in having so much space for the first time in years. I felt like a plant that had been re-potted.  It felt incredible to be able to stand up tall, even reach my arms up and not touch the ceiling.  We could lavishly buy plants and charity shop furniture without worrying where the hell they would go. It wasn't just the abundance of space making us so chuffed, there were so many aspects to land life that most would take for granted as normal factors to daily life but to a boater seem like the most luxurious treats. We could FLUSH the toilet (even after a number 1). My old landlord always had a motto up on the wall 'if it's brown flush it down, if it's yellow let it mellow'. It took me months to get into the habit of flushing in the flat and putting my toilet roll in the loo rather than a bin (to this day I still do this everywhere I go out of habit). We could DRINK THE TAPWATER, I cannot tell you how great that felt, we couldn't gulp it down our dehydrated gobs fast enough, what a precious commodity to a boater. We could shower for more than 2 minutes and as often as we liked, by God we could even have a BATH.  We could have more than THREE friends over at one time, it felt amazing to show off such a large habitat to our mates.  We were, for the time, land -lubbing converts. 
After a year of lapping up landlife, the estate agents upped our rent and again we had to find another home. A beautiful boat came into our path and it dawned on us that the fates were bringing us back to our roots to the cheapest and most fulfilling lifestyle on the table. We were willing to trade in all of the luxuries of the flat for the excitement and simplicity of boatlife once more. Who were we kidding, all fur coat and no knickers, there was only so long we could stay away. This time we wanted to do it properly, marina life was great but it was glamping compared to living on the waterways. We got a loan out and bought our very own narrowboat. The aquatic betrayal was short lived and we were beckoned to the waters by the hardy self sufficient sirens of the london canals.