Bobbing Along on the Old Rag Doll
By Rosamund Whitmore
I’ve never been too fond of canals. Not because of some irrational fear of being trapped in a lock or drowning in bilge water, or even being crushed by a barge, but because of two rag dolls from a Children’s TV show named Rosie and Jim. Rosie and Jim lived on a canal boat called the Old Rag Doll, with their friend, a wooden duck.
Unfortunately, being named Rosie, I’m still haunted by taunts from my childhood of “Who’s your boyfriend, Rosie? Jim?” Because of Rosie, Jim and their adventures aboard the barge, I’ve never taken much of a liking to anything connected to canals. And let’s be frank here, canals are just not really all that, well, sexy. Plus, despite claims that Birmingham is reputed to have more miles of canal than Venice, the Love Capital of the World, you don’t exactly see flocks of tourists flying up there to be swept away with romance and passion on a canal trip.
I was doing some research for this article on the 7.26am train to Cardiff Central and as I was reading, I found a chapter called ‘canal mania.’ Feeling as though I was verging on slight insanity, I decided to stop reading and stretch my legs. As I stood up I saw a man reading a book titled ‘Canal Dreams.’ Catching my eye, the man held up his book and wiggled it at me with a knowing smile, as though we were members of a private club. The Canal Maniac Club. Oh great, I thought. At this point, I decided to investigate why some people were apparently canal crazy. So, embracing my new found membership as a canal maniac, I set about reading again.
And the truth is, I’ve been converted. In Canal Mania, Chapter 1, I read that these waterways were once the backbone of the United Kingdom, forging the way for the boom of the Industrial Revolution. Canals could transport huge amounts of materials cheaply and efficiently. Without them, trade wouldn’t have expanded so much and costs wouldn’t have fallen so low. In essence, without the aid of the canals, industry would not have set sail with such force.
Canal craziness mainly began in the West Midlands. The Black Country is not only found in the heart of England, but also in the very centre of the Industrial Revolution. The Romans may have built the first canals in Britain, Foss Dyke, but it wasn’t until seventeen centuries down the line that Britain became really crazy about canals.
The start of canal mania began with the building of The Bridgewater Canal. Despite its name, it wasn’t built in Bridgewater. The canal was the brain child of the Third Duke of Bridgewater (hence the name) and is actually found in Worsley. Bridgewater saw that the city of Manchester hungrily consumed enormous amounts of coal. With his own appetite for wealth and riches, therefore, the Duke made plans to feed Manchester’s needs by supplying coal on the cheap.
The Duke’s estate manager, John Gilbert, and the respected engineer, James Brindley, were called in to set the ball rolling. After two Acts of Parliament, seven years and a lot of hard graft, the Dudley tunnel was opened for business in June 1792. Soon 10 miles turned into180 miles. Every industrial centre, city and port clamoured for a canal to be constructed nearby. Canal mania became so manic that by 1800, nowhere south of Durham was further than 15 miles away from a canal!
The canal boats weren’t just temporary residences for the tons of coal being shifted around, either. Soon, the nearest and dearest of the boatmen moved on board to make the boat their hearth and home, helping run the boats to cut costs. Whole families squeezed into the tiny cabins with cramped living conditions, travelling across the country transporting coal. The travelling life often attracted gypsies from inland and thus boatmen were given the endearing label of ‘water gypsies.’ Often seen as an insult, this term could have landed you with a dunking in the waterway.
The fact that canals fuelled the Industrial Revolution isn’t the only perpetrator of canal mania. Author Tom Foxon wrote about his experience on a canal saying, “I found this purposeful journeying through the sleeping heart of the industrial Midlands strangely satisfying. Life held nothing better than to stand at the tiller, a warm fire at my feet and a mug of tea to hand, the engine throbbing contentedly as we glided along in the dark.”
Although the Black Country scenery was once as black as the coal it mined, nowadays the canal waterways give scenic, tranquil trips. And, while inland home-owners like to 'Keep-up-with-the-Jones,’ on canals it’s more a case of “Nah nah, my boat’s better than yours.” Painted roses and castles adorn most canal boats, but some seem to be in direct competition with each others decorative displays.
Canal craziness came to an end when the waterways were replaced by railways. Trains were superior in speed, safety and strength, carrying bigger cargoes at lower costs. Money invested in canal companies was soon diverted to the railways and as the rail system became more established, the canals fell into decline. Ironically, later on many of the canals were filled in with concrete to provide room for rail lines. Eventually, the once working waterways stilled and became stagnant.
Some canal maniacs formed Unions to preserve the waterways and keep them open for pleasure trips. As canal mania seems to have been lost, I’ve decided that as a member of the Canal Maniac Club, I should promote these old waterways which helped fuel the building of our country. So, I’ve started watching the Children’s TV show Rosie and Jim. After all, they do promote the excitement of canal boat adventures. And, in the name of canal preservation and promotion, I can endure the airing of the show and a few more taunts. But, before you ask - no, my boyfriend’s not called Jim.