Saturday 29 Nov — King’s Cross: Cold, Dark, and Full of Regret

It was cold.
Not “wrap up warm” cold.
Existential cold.

James and Tommy joined me at 7am.

Tommy — who is 18 and therefore legally required to be asleep — immediately began rotating through a series of strategic cat naps. By mid-morning he’d perfected the art of sleeping while technically standing.

We lit the fire, boiled the kettle, and convinced ourselves this was all part of the adventure.

The engine, however, was unconvinced.

She refused to start at first.
James, lips turning the colour of an Icelandic glacier, reassured me:

“Old diesel engines just need coaxing.”

After some persuasion, prayer, and possibly bargaining, the JJ finally coughed into life — waking Tommy, who promptly went back to sleep.

We untied her from the mooring she’d called home for four years.

Then…
No propulsion.

Yes, she was in gear.
No, she wasn’t moving.
Yes, I blamed the cold.
No, the cold was innocent.

Camden: Oil, Panic, and an Unexpected SAS Manoeuvre

We crawled through St Pancras Lock and limped toward Camden at a pace that offended pedestrians.

We pulled over. Engine covers came off.

Diagnosis:

The gearbox was basically empty.

One lonely litre of oil was found and added — enough to function, but not enough for confidence. So James was dispatched in an Uber to Euro Car Parts like a heroic errand boy.

While he was gone, Tommy and I dragged the JJ through two Camden locks by hand, like canal horses — except less majestic and significantly wetter.

The Last Look at the Kings Cross Mooring

This is where I must admit something.

I’d seen “1999 T” on the hull and confidently assumed the JJ weighed 2 tonnes.
I spent the whole weekend telling everyone this.

She weighs nearly 20 tonnes.

No one corrected me.
Let that sink in.

Steering Lessons & Emotional Damage

Before James returned, both lads had steering lessons.

Let me be clear:

Neither James nor Tommy can steer a boat.
Yet.

The JJ wandered across the canal like a confused shopping trolley possessed by demons.

Tommy, frozen, soaked, exhausted, and emotionally overwhelmed, finally announced:

“That was the most intense and stressful thing I’ve ever done.”

Bless him.
He’s only 18.
This boat will age him faster than Prime Ministers age in office.

Shortly after, he took another tactical nap — curled up like a traumatised spaniel near the stove.

James vs Gravity

When James returned — miraculously with a complimentary bottle of oil (thank you, Euro Car Parts) — things began moving again.

But not before James attempted a heroic leap from JJ to towpath…
…and executed what can only be described as an SAS tumble-roll hybrid, involving arms, legs, momentum, and dignity all leaving his body at once.

He was fine.
Mostly.

We pretended it was deliberate.
It was not.