Once upon a time, Phil bagged a job as a journo on Defence Focus: the definitive magazine for the Ministry of Defence.
Suddenly the world of boys’ toys opened up to him, and he was in a small kind of heaven.
He went to the Defence Academy to learn how to use a machine gun. He took a speed boat down the River Tamar dressed in a drysuit, pulled up in front of a gaggle of bemused tourists: got out, unzipped his drysuit, hopped into a car full of military brass and sped off.
Slick action, Meester Bond.
He stayed a couple of nights in an aircraft carrier and travelled half way across the world to the Falklands, stopping at Paradise in the form of Ascension Island.
And whenever he could, he took us with him.
Not to any machine gun training sessions or far-flung destinations, you understand. But we had our adventures: and they included the Royal Gunpowder Mills.
And what an unsung pivotal place it was.
The Mills, at Waltham Abbey, sprang up in response to a growing demand for gunpowder using local saltpetre. The Crown bought it in 1787, to ensure it had a ready supply of explosives. And they kept it for more than 200 years.
Because demand for gunpowder was high, what with the French Revolution, and the Napoleonic Wars, Crimea and The two World Wars. There’s a deep, deep pond at the site where the bouncing bomb was tested.
There were plenty of jobs going in the Essex factory, despite the hair-raising risks involved.
And the risks were terrifying. Some of the ingredients they worked with there were highly volatile. One nasty jolt and lives could be lost.
Moving around the Mills, then, was a specialised business: and so those running them came up with an ingenious way to keep transportation smooth and punctual.
Canals. Crown engineers developed a network of them, designed specifically to transport some of the most dangerous substances known to man smoothly to and fro around the site. There was even a lock built, a century after the acquisition, to manage a six-foot drop.
And outside this hallowed sanctum of the volatile, the rest of the world was following suit.
For different reasons, though. The canal could do it all. Take enormous loads, and get them there faster than a carriage. The third Duke of Bridgewater, Francis Egerton, built one to link his coal mines at Worsley with Manchester. It was called the Bridgewater Canal.
It wasn’t just industrialists that made money on this. Everyman did too. It is said that the cost of coal in Manchester fell by three-quarters when the Bridgewater Canal was opened.
They must have been the wonders of the cities, these veins which carried essentials to the heart of a metropolis, putting cash back into the pockets of the man on the street.
Although they could be uncouth, the bargees: look at The Railway Children. E Nesbit’s children don’t like the canal people, because “the people on the canal were anything but kind.”
“Peter had once asked one of the bargees the time,” adds Nesbit, “and had been told to ‘get out of that’ in a tone so fierce that he did not stop to say anything about his having just as much right on the towing-path as the man himself.”
The children loved the railway, though, as anyone who has read this beautiful little classic will remember.
There is, is there not, something about a steam train: romantic, and momentous: a promise of far-off destinations even today, in this era of jet planes.
The Liverpool and Manchester Railway cut like a scythe into the replete profit of the Bridgewater Canal.
By 1825, shares in the canal had rocketed from an original purchase price of £70 to £1,250. The Marquis of Stafford, who had inherited the canal concern, was making profits of £100,000 a year. He, and the Turnpike trusts – guardians of the road tolls – campaigned long and bitterly to prevent the great iron horse from hissing and puffing its way into the lead: but there was no competition.
Once again, businessmen were wooed by new technology. A ton of coal cost eighteen shillings to transport from London to Liverpool by canal. By train it would set you back just eight shillings and sixpence.
And so the canals began to decline. Slowly at first, but by the middle of the last century, most were overgrown and derelict.
They have risen again: starting in 1949, under the guidance of writer Tom Rolt, a great wave of volunteer restoration swept our waterways. There is nothing like messing about in a barge on a canal, and thanks to thousands of volunteers, many waterways have been refurbished and accorded a new lease of life.
It is difficult to imagine them ever again having to fight for their identity.
Image source here
Written in response to Side View’s weekend theme – which you can find here
Kate Shrewsday 
Shaken . . . or stirred?
What a FAB journo job ~ love the image of your Mr. Bond zipping off the wet suit to speed off in a waiting car.
We’ve watched travel videos of houseboats gliding about your lovely canals. What would make the event truly special for a family with young children?
Phil, climbing from the canal in his wet suit, toting a water pistol. What a splash that would make!
I must test the water with Phil, Nancy. I must say it does sound rather an attractive option,
Sounds like every boys dream job 😉 no wonder Phil loved it.
Canals stll are in use in China, the rivers run east to the ocean, so the emperors built north-south canals to join the rivers. We had an interesting afternoon going from one city to another on one,
That’s going straight on my bucket list, Sidey!
What a romantic way to travel. Something tells me canals wouldn’t work here in Australia, however, unless they made like Fred Flintstone during times of drought.
Too right, Lynley. The barges wouldn’t get anywhere at the bottom of a dusty brick channel 🙂
I heard (wasn’t concentrating properly) on the radio the other day that they are planning to build houseboats and use the canals to solve the housing crisis in Britain?
Haven’t heard that one, Cindy: I’ll do some digging. They’re very small inside and of course a barge takes way more upkeep than a council flat. But I wouldn’t put anything past Captain Cameron and his loopy band,
Last summer, I spent almost a month being hosted by various Rotarians in England. They took us to Foxton Locks, as well as some canals, and I wanted to disappear, re-emerging on a canal with my little boat to tour the country. My Meester Bond didn’t like that notion, so I returned home with him. The boat would’ve been awfully lonely without him.
Bond or barge? I know which I’d choose every time, Andra 😀 Reminds me of that stunt Daniel Craig did, coming up he Thames in a speedboat. Now there’s a riverworthy bloke.
What a wonderful post! From “Phil” Bond to canals to railways and back. How I would love to travel your canals in a barge.
Penny, you’d be in heaven, because the locks and narrowboats are all planted with the most gorgeous flowers and plants. If you ever make it over we’ll grab a barge for a weekend and sail away 🙂
Two of the best holidays I’ve had have been on a canal boat in Britain. Although it was a long time ago now, I imagine they are much improved. The dripping abandoned mills of Birmingham and Manchester have since been restored. Nothing like a flight of locks to get the appetite going!
Lovely post, Kate.
Oh, yes, locks in a row must be utterly knackering, Earlybird. Thank God there are loads of hostelries along the way…
Lucky Phil!
I spent my childhood walking and playing along the Bridgewater Canal.
I expect it’s rather beautiful these days, Tilly.
I live very close to the Bridgewater Canal, and it is a lovely place to walk along. I can imagine it being very peaceful in a boat along there. Once, when I was very young, my parents were taking my brother and I for a walk when we were attacked by a swan, who was guarding her cygnets. She would not let us passed her – she wouldn’t let us get even close. Luckily, some kind man in a passing boat pulled over, and took us around the swan! A mad memory, but great all the same. Thanks for reminding of that, Kate! 🙂
Swans can get very iffy, can’t they, Tom? Macaulay’s always picking fights with them: fight which he is totally unequal to win! The canals are generally lovely places to walk, these days, and a haven for wildlife – even if it happens to be swans…
You guys have all the fun.
😀 It’s one long social whirl, Sharon
What a wonderful tale of Phil’s daring do!
Spurs Fan is from Waltham Abbey and was amazed that, on my first trip, I wasn’t that bothered by the remains of King Harold, or the Gunpowder Mill, but was totally blown away by the meridian running through the abbey grounds. A grown woman with no sense leaping back and forwards ‘eastern hemisphere!’ ‘western hemisphere!’ ‘east’ ‘west’ etc. It’s a wonder, really, that I was invited back …
I remember Michael Palin doing something similar….had I had any presence of mind I would have done that myself, Speccy. Now I shall just have to make a return journey to remedy it 🙂
Interesting story.
I remember learning about this when I was young, Paul.