Just when it was all going so well

 

The day began well. We had an early start, not lingering for the bacon sandwiches after all, but leaving Norbury Junction at 7.30 a.m. By 10.00 a.m. we were at Wheaton Aston, filling up with diesel, emptying the loo and filling up with water. Then, fortified by coffee and snickers, it was onwards and downwards (well, after going UP the Wheaton Aston lock) towards Autherley Junction – actually, not downwards at all, as there’s a long level pound between Wheaton and the Junction, alternating between high embankments and deep narrow cuttings which are dense and dark and green with overhanging trees. We saw three kingfishers in quick succession. Lunch was taken on the go. I was just beginning to think that there would be nothing to write about in the blog tonight, and I would have to conjure up a ‘filler’ in the shape of a Church review (BCP evensong at St Michael’s Marbury, which had been bumped out of an earlier blog by the dramatic events (queue jumping) at Marbury Locks), when we encountered problems at Compton Lock.

A boat was waiting to go down, and there was a boat coming up. Then someone came running towards us from the lock to say that the lock wasn’t filling, the bottom gates were leaking too badly, the lock had partly filled but had then reached a point where the water coming in was balanced by the water leaking out. A crowd soon gathered to make suggestions. The lock was emptied again, and the bottom gates reopened and then re-closed – we all thought they had closed better this time, were a tighter fit, so we started filling the lock again. All seemed to go ok until about 12 inches from the top, when again, the water stopped rising. We managed to wedge the top gate open a little, first with a windlass and then with a length of wood (the handy ‘wooden windlass’ that I’d been kindly given by a boater on the outward journey), and together with the efforts of a lot of people pushing the gate and a bit of shoving from the boat itself (NOT good practice, but sometimes desperate measures are called for) we managed to get the lock filled and the gate open, so that boat was out. As it left, we could hear the skipper on the phone to CRT, reporting the problem. ‘They’ll be here within an hour,’ he promised us.

The boat in front of us was of course now able to go down. And through and off they went, leaving Ernest and I suddenly without the previous crowd of able-bodied persons – just an elderly (ish) woman with a bicycle who had sat on a bench watching the whole performance and who then immediately got on her bike and disappeared, perhaps anxious that she might be roped in to help us, and three even older fishermen, at least one of them on crutches, who also suddenly packed up their gear and went home for tea. Ernest and I decided we would see if we could repeat what had been done earlier, and we almost had the lock full – perhaps 6 inches from the top (with our windlass wedging the top gate partly open) when a CRT man appeared in his white van, and told us to stop, and to close the top paddles. He was probably right to do so – apparently the pound above the lock had dropped by about 2 inches, with all the water that had been let through.

Kevin, as we learned he was called, was not happy. What a day for such a problem to happen! Most of the local CRT men, he told us, were on crowd control duty or something at the big Black Sabbath event in the middle of Birmingham (you’ll have to google it if you want to know more, I can’t be bothered). He’d been left in sole charge of 40 miles of canal. And he needed to get away by 4.00 p.m. to go and collect his daughter from the airport. And you know what traffic is like near the airport… Kevin spent five minutes or so looking at the bottom gates, opening and shutting them, and drawing his breath in through his teeth in that way that plumbers have just before they tell you how much they will charge to repair your leaking pipe. If only he had a longer pole. If only all the other men weren’t at the Black Sabbath event. If only he didn’t have to pick up his daughter. He would just have to leave it to the On Call team, who would be on duty from 4.00 p.m. (it was by now about 3.15p.m.). He put a call through to his handlers. And at the same time Ernest was on the phone to CRT, emphasising that we were on a tight schedule because of the time we had been marooned up the Llangollen. A man appeared from another boat moored a little way above the lock. He confirmed that he had come up through the lock about an hour earlier, and it had worked perfectly fine. So it sounded as if something had perhaps got caught below the bottom gates and was preventing them shutting properly.

I retreated to the boat to make a cup of tea (always a good plan), while Kevin departed to collect his daughter, and the man from the other moored boat waited with Ernest and listened patiently to his tales of woe.
We were eventually saved by the wonderful ‘Baz’ from CRT, presumably from the On Call team. He brought with him a really long rake, and spent only a little time looking at the gates and the water before actually doing something – ie raking about at the bottom of the lock near the bottom gates, then opening some top paddles and sort of whooshing the water through to clear whatever obstruction might be there. He thought there was a 50/50 chance of success, but hooray! And thank you to Baz! By 4.30 p.m. we were able to fill the lock and go through it.

Could we make up lost time? Well, it wasn’t raining, so we fortified ourselves again with tea and cake, and pressed on. The lock keeper at the Bratch had gone home, but we decided to work these locks ourselves, having read the detailed instructions carefully, twice: this is a ‘set of locks’ not a staircase, and the method is to open blue paddles and blue gates before red paddles and red gates (‘blue before red or you’re dead’), allowing the side ponds to sort the water levels out. It’s a very clever piece of canal engineering.

I was glad I’d seen it work with the lock keeper and volunteers when we came up – and had learned from the mistakes made by the volunteers then. It’s very simple really, if you follow the instructions to the letter, and much simpler when there’s only one boat going through.

After that it was just a question of finding a good mooring for the night, but that took some time, as we rejected sites near industrial estates or under pylons and power lines, and ended up going through 3 more locks before finally mooring at 8.15 p.m. and rewarding ourselves with a G&T/beer before tucking in to sausages, mash and beans.

14 locks and 25 miles in 10.4 engine hours.

The only other thing to report is that Ernest put his foot through the back deck, which we knew was rotten and has been repaired once and now needs replacing. No damage done to the foot, thankfully.

A shortage of dry socks

Nothing much to report, really, as we return to a more normal routine. The canal is as quiet and peaceful as it should be.

Rain before 7.00, but not fine by 11.00. We togged up anyway – waterproof trousers and jackets and hats – and set off to climb the remaining 11 locks of the 15-Lock Audlem flight. We quickly set into a rhythm of working: after opening the top paddles of one lock, I would walk ahead to open the bottom paddles and gates of the next lock, leaving Ernest to open his top gate, drop the paddles, exit, then close the gate. After doing this once, he decided it would be a good idea to secure the boat with the rear rope when he left it to close the gate, just in case it decided to drift away…

Apparently, I sometimes caused extra problems by opening the bottom paddles of the next lock just as he was trying to close his gate, and the extra flow made his work harder.

It’s at times like this when it would be really good to have an extra pair of hands, or better still, two extra crew. One always going ahead to set the next lock, one always available to finish off the lower lock, one working wherever needed. But in the evenings and overnight, our boat really only has room for two. So the extra crew would have to arrange their own accommodation. Or camp on the roof.

We have in the past had extras (family and friends) ‘camping’ out with us (not on the roof) for short periods – and very welcome they were too (I know they read this blog, and I don’t want them to feel unwanted and unloved). But after a long day in the rain with much lock working, my inner introvert kicks in and demands to be ALONE. So I’d better just get on with working the locks all by myself.

A short respite after the Audlem flight, but then the five locks at Adderley. By this time, heavy persistent rain had tested and found wanting the waterproof coat (yes, the new one) and hat as well as the shoes. I left Ernest under his umbrella and retreated indoors to finish making bread, change some of my clothing, and make coffee, not necessarily in that order.

We moored for lunch in Market Drayton – I confess to bacon sandwiches with freshly made bread rolls – then pressed on, as the rain had stopped and the clouds had lifted. For a short while there was the promise of sun and warmth, but the promise was unfulfilled.

Five more locks at Tyrley – tricky ones with fast run offs, and an especially shallow pound between the bottom two locks where you are likely either to run aground on the towpath side or get pushed sideways by the run off and find yourself stuck against the steep rocky cliff on the other side (the two boats ahead of us kindly demonstrated the dangers for us).

Ernest must be tired because he got grumpy with the skipper of a boat coming down: a young couple, the girl went ahead to set the next lock down (the one Ernest had just left, crossing with a boat going down, so that lock was now empty) – Ernest told the girl not to open the top paddles, as there was a boat coming up. The girl communicated with her skipper on her walker-talkie (I am ambivalent about the value of these walkie-talkies – they seem to take the fun out of narrowboating, since much of the fun results from communication breakdowns) and the skipper obviously told her to open the paddles anyway, so she did. And Ernest was cross because that meant they had ‘stolen’ the lock from the boat coming up. I think the skipper might have been worried about crossing the shallow pound and didn’t want to exit his lock until he could see the next lock down set for him with gates open. But Ernest might be right – this skipper was just rude and inconsiderate.

No further incidents. A long stretch without Locks was somehow both relaxing and tedious. A bit of sunshine would have improved matters. We moored for the night at Norbury Junction ‘where the Newport branch used to lock down from the main line’, but which is now a busy boatyard with cafe, shop, pub and permanent moorings as well as CRT facilities.

We don’t usually moor in such a busy place. Almost metropolitan. Quiet at the moment, but we know it will be full of life in the morning. If we linger for long enough, we might be tempted by the bacon sandwiches in the cafe.

To round off the day, the local fire brigade entertained us with exercises in the cut: it looked as if the youngest recruits were being subjected to some initiation ritual – donning wetsuits and bright yellow helmets, climbing down into the water, walking across the canal and then along it for a few yards, then being dragged, floating, back across the canal and being hauled out by their mates. Everyone seemed to be enjoying it.

Good old Borlotti Bean Goulash and cheese dumplings for dinner.

21 locks and 17 miles in 9.2 engine hours.

The rain it raineth every day

 

It rained all night and was windy too, and cold. I woke in the middle of the night feeling chilly and had to fumble around in the dark to find a blanket to throw over the duvet – I’d ended up with the thinner of the two duvets. Ernest seemed to be happily and warmly asleep under his thicker one.

Morning dawned grey and damp, the cloud low and persistent. Undaunted, however, we set off before 9.00a.m. to tackle the 15-lock flight down to Audlem. Heavy and fast flowing run-offs above and below the locks made steering ‘interesting’. Things went more smoothly if the next lock down was already set and the gates open before leaving the lock above. Fortunately we crossed with several boats, which helped. Everyone well wrapped up in full waterproofs and hats, and agreeing that ‘we must be mad’.

Moored below Lock 11 and after drying out a little, walked into Audlem for lunch, opting for the Old Priest House Coffee Shop, as recommended in the Nicholson guidebook. A wise decision. Ernest did what a man must do and chose the ‘meat and potato pie’ – home made, a ‘proper pie’ ie with a bottom as well as a top, a generous portion of about a sixth of a 12” or so diameter family pie, with carrots, peas and gravy. The gravy was perhaps a little thin, he said, but he didn’t complain too much. I chose vegetable tortilla wraps, which were delicious, but I rather regretted that I hadn’t gone for the cheese and onion pie when I saw the quality of the pastry. What I really enjoyed was the generous cafetière of hot fresh coffee.

We had added entertainment watching guests arriving for a wedding at the parish church opposite. The usual flimsy dresses, very high heels and enormous hats – lovely but inappropriate for the weather. The bridesmaids arrived in an open top double decker red London bus. No surprise that no one was sitting on the top deck. The four grown-up bridesmaids wore pale blue dresses – backs and shoulders bare. I just hope the reception venue is warm and dry. The bride looked gorgeous of course, but was clearly very anxious about keeping her dress and long veil clean and dry – and was faced with a perilous climb up 20 or so steps through the lych gate and up to the Church door. Later we heard the bells ringing, so presumably the wedding went ok.

After stocking up at the Coop stores – including (hooray!) gin and tonic (£2.10 per can, which was I thought expensive, but £3.50 for two, which seemed a good offer, then the checkout assistant said hadn’t I seen the packs of 4 for £5.25, which was an even better bargain, and how could I refuse?) – it was back to the boat, more locks, a brief pause at a sanitary station, then a long stretch with only two locks to Nantwich. A good mooring. We’ve both had showers and found clean dry clothes. Socks and waterproofs are drying in various places. Dinner (turkey mince bolognese) is simmering away. Soon be time for a G&T.

But before I do, I just want to mention that today we send birthday congratulations to our nephew Adrian, as well as Nancy Sinatra, Tim Berners Lee, and our dear friend Tom Pellaton. Tom would have loved to have all his many friends to celebrate his 75th with him in New York, but as that wasn’t logistically possible, he issued the following invitation:

“With the state of the world and the lack of much civility, I am asking you all, whose friendship and relationships I value very much, to take on a special act of kindness and or generosity in the month of June, the birthday month, perhaps with someone you do not even know and let me know how it went!”

I’ve been thinking about this all week, and have been doing my best to be kind and generous as we cruise along and as we meet other boaters at locks etc. For example, as we went up the Kidderminster locks I realised the crew in front was on his own, so I generously said “Don’t worry, I’ll see you through”, then felt a little foolish as it turned out he is a working boat man, operating a rescue service, and spends all his time going up and down these canals single-handedly. He didn’t need my help at all. But he was friendly enough, and we got chatting at the next lock. He was indeed very kind and generous to me, warning me that the top gate would be difficult to open because the bottom gates were so leaky, showing me how to use a piece of wood (a “wooden windlass”) as a sort of lever to wedge the top gate open a couple of inches to let more water through, and then giving me his piece of wood (“I’ve got plenty more of those on board”), which we did in fact use on several tricky locks that day.

So I’ve been reflecting further on ‘kindness and generosity’ on the Waterways, and have decided that, with very few exceptions, there is a natural tendency here for people to be helpful to others. I was listening to a short item on Radio 4 news yesterday, about Economics, and the way in which mainstream economic theory assumes that human greed and selfishness are the primary driving forces in the economy and society, but new economic thinking challenges that view and suggests that people are in fact much more co-operative and altruistic. This is demonstrated time and again on the canals. Boat crews will always help each other with locks. We don’t ‘steal’ locks from each other – if the lock is set for a boat coming up, and there’s a boat in sight, we let that boat through before going down ourselves. If we’re in a queue, we get stuck in and help with paddles and gates until it’s our turn to go through. This morning, the crew going ahead of us down the Audlem flight made sure they opened one of the top gate paddles before moving on, to help speed up our progress – this meant the lock was usually full by the time we got to it, and we could open the gate straightaway- particularly helpful with those fierce run-offs. And earlier this week, I provided additional help to a novice crew on a hire boat who were struggling with difficult locks in heavy rain – and then had to ask for help from them when my windlass got stuck and we needed to bash it off with a lump hammer. Lots of ‘Thank Yous’ all round.

Oh, and the other positive thing I’ve been doing this week is picking up litter whenever I can: plastic bags, drink cans, plastic bottles. The Canal and River Trust issued a press release recently highlighting the vast quantities of litter and especially plastic in and near our waterways, and suggesting that if every visitor (boaters, joggers, dog walkers, cyclists, sightseers) picked up one piece of litter, the problem would be solved in a year. I’m trying to do my bit – and a bit more.

And finally, of course I say “good morning/afternoon/whatever” to everyone I meet – that happens automatically in the countryside anyway, and with none of the strange looks you’d get in the city, where of course there are too many people and the only way to stay sane is to ignore everyone else. I have to confess I am just the same in London.

OK, really time for a G&T now. Cheers to Tom and to anyone else with a birthday today and to anyone reading this blog.

17 locks and 8 miles in 4.8 engine hours.

Up the Shroppie

After three years silence, it’s time to resurrect this blog. We did go out cruising in 2017: a two-week trip in April, from Droitwich up to Market Drayton and back, and later in the summer a rather complicated journey round to Cropredy, where we left the boat for a couple of weeks while we went off to Essex to stay with Ruth and celebrate our 40th wedding anniversary with family and friends in Ruth’s lovely garden. The complicated bit was making sure the car was where we needed it to be. Ernest had to do some interesting journeys by foot and train.

In 2018 we were busy house hunting and then moving house. We did use the boat as a useful base while we looked for a new home in Worcestershire, Herefordshire and later Gloucestershire- but all that is not very interesting to those who want to hear about narrowboat and canals. Once the house move was complete and we’d recovered our energy, we managed a week’s cruise up through Stourport to Whitwick and back. The major incident on that trip was the water pump springing a leak, so we had to turn the water off at the ‘mains’ (ie the stop cock hidden away under the front deck) and only turned it back on briefly once a day so we could wash up. We didn’t bother much with washing ourselves and discovered or remembered that it is possible to go a whole week without a shower. Useful practice for the low carbon lifestyle that will be essential for all of us if we are to stand any chance of avoiding catastrophic climate disruption.

And so to 2019 – we got away in March for a short spring trip up the Tardebigge flight and round to the Stratford Canal. Couldn’t get all the way down to Stratford because of stoppages, but had a good trip anyway despite the cold weather. Thankfully, the heating system worked well.

And now summer is here and we have left the garden to its own devices (and the kind attention of good neighbours who have promised to water – but not to weed…), having kept 4 weeks clear in our diaries. Our plan is to go as far as Llangollen, and, depending on progress, return via Chester, the Middlewich branch and the Trent and Mersey. If all goes well…

We set off last Sunday, but it’s only today (Thursday) that I’ve summoned up the energy and found the time for a blog post. Are there any readers out there? Am I whistling in the wind?

I can promise statistics, Church and pub reviews (not necessarily in that order), recipe suggestions, wine recommendations, honest descriptions of the joys and sorrows of narrowboating, and occasional anecdotes of mayhem and disaster – depending on the number of stag party boats we encounter.

The battery on my iPad is running low, so I’d better press on and give a quick summary of progress so far:

Sunday 2 June
Took all morning to pack and sort the house and garden, in readiness for our departure, then drove up to Droitwich Marina in the afternoon, calling off at Tesco on the way to complete food supplies. I’d already packed a few shopping bags with stuff from the store cupboards: tinned tomatoes, tinned pulses, flour, teabags, coffee, herbs and spices, etc. Living now out in the countryside, our store cupboards are always well stocked – just in case we get snowed in or a No Deal Brexit threatens.

Oops, this is supposed to be a Brexit-free blog. Following the recent superb example of Rayne Whitemouse Tours, anyone (that includes me as well as posters of comments) who mentions the B word will be fined £1 per offence, to be donated to a charity of their choice, or preferably ClicSergeant.

Anyway, arrived at the marina mid afternoon and by 6.00 p.m. were all shipshape and ready to depart, so as the weather was good we slipped anchor (more accurately, slipped our moorings), exited the marina, and negotiated the five locks and three swing bridges down into Droitwich. It’s always a relief to find we fit snugly but safely through the culvert under the M5 without damage to roof or heads. I worked the first four locks then handed over to Ernest for the fifth (the shallow lock from the river back on to the canal) and the swing bridges through the park- I got the better deal, I think: those swing bridges in particular are a b….r. Plenty of space in the visitor moorings. 5 Locks, 3 swing bridges and 1.5 miles in 1.7 engine hours. Baked orzo puttanesca for dinner.

Monday 3 June.
A bright and sunny day and an early (8.15 a.m.) departure. A trouble free ride down to Hawford Top Lock, navigation much improved now they have reinstated regular cutting of the reeds. Lunch, then through the two locks on to the River Severn, and upstream to Stourport. Again, no problems through the several locks in the basin. Moored above York Street Lock. 15 Locks and 14 miles in 6.9 engine hours and Fish Pie for dinner. Yesterday Ernest had opened a bottle of red wine, but it quickly emerged that it was a bottle of ‘cheap and cheerful’ wine intended for use in cooking. Tonight I insisted on something better – Eden something or other from Laithwaites. The bottle has now been recycled so I can’t check.

Tuesday 4 June
A cloudier day and showers were forecast. Stopped at Tesco in Kidderminster for all the things we’d forgotten to bring or buy on Sunday, including Marmite – how could I forget the Marmite?!
Three young schoolgirls – Year 11, they claimed to have done an exam that morning, GCSE English, and had the rest of the day off – ‘helped’ us through Kidderminster Lock. They seemed genuinely interested in how locks worked and at least one of them said they wanted to be an engineer when they left school. Later I had just left the boat to get some steps in walking the towpath when what I thought was a short shower turned into a persistent downpour. I hadn’t planned for this and was wearing a fleece, not waterproofs. By the time I’d worked the next couple of locks, my hat, fleece, trousers, socks and trainers were soaked through. The rain had definitely set in, so I changed into dry clothes and waterproofs and headed out again for the final couple of miles and locks. Ernest remained cosy and dry under his trusty umbrella. The fleece took two days to dry out. It’s amazing how much water a fleece can absorb… Moored for the night below Stewpony Bridge, about a mile north of Kinver. 9 locks and 12 miles in 6.9 engine hours. Veg curry for dinner (sweet potato, red pepper, chick peas and spinach in a roghan josh sauce).

Wednesday 5 June
An earlyish (8.35 a.m.) departure, with a brief pause to take on water above Stewpony Lock. Steady cruising all morning, with enough locks to provide interest without exhausting us. A brief stop for lunch near Wombourne, then up through The Bratch: a fascinating 3-Lock staircase with a full-time Lock-keeper supported by volunteers who are supposed to ensure a smooth and safe passage. Unfortunately, one of the volunteers seemed more interested in talking to friends on his mobile phone and chatting to boaters about his knee problems than in playing his part and opening paddles or monitoring water levels. In addition, a community boat (a most worthwhile enterprise, offering boat trips to community groups – today it was a group of elderly folk who’d enjoyed a trip and a pub lunch) had a crew of less than competent volunteers. We were behind the community boat, having kindly offered them our place in the queue so they could get their old folk back to their bus in time. I was up on the locks helping as best I could. But it was definitely not my fault that things went awry! The lock-keeper suddenly appeared above us, very cross – why had the blue gate been opened? Why weren’t the red paddles open? Wasn’t anyone watching the water levels? The skipper of the community boat should have known better! And what were the Lock volunteers doing? Could everyone please concentrate! Happily, our passage went more smoothly. I had certainly learned by observing the mistakes of others.
It took just an hour for us from joining the queue at the bottom of The Bratch to leaving the top lock with a cheerful and grateful wave to the long-suffering Lock-keeper.

Moored for the night just south of Wightwick. 16 locks and 9 miles in 6.6 engine hours. Paella for dinner, with a new wine: 19 Crimes, from South Eastern Australia. The label notes: “Nineteen crimes turned criminals into colonists. Upon conviction, these men, guilty of at least one of the 19 crimes, were sentenced to live in Australia, rather than death. This ‘punishment by transportation’ began in 1788 and many of the lawless died at sea. For the rough-hewn men who made it to shore, a new world awaited. As pioneers in a frontier colony, they forged a new country and new lives, brick by brick. This wine honours the history they wrote and the culture they built.” And from the cork in our bottle tonight: “10. Stealing fish from a pond or river.” The wine was perfectly acceptable.

Thursday 6 June
A sunny day and a day for dealing with necessary domestic duties: topped up with water, emptied the loo, offloaded some recycling, and filled up with diesel. And made rapid progress up the Shropshire Union – wide and straight and very few locks.
Not much else to say about this day’s cruising, so a few brief comments about the natural world. June is really a lovely month in which to be out. The cow parsley has gone over, to be replaced by wild carrot, Angelica, campions, endless buttercups, foxgloves. Elderflowers have taken over from hawthorn in the hedgerows. The waterfowl are busy with their young: mallards with up to 10 tiny ducklings – Nature is so profligate, sadly the wastage rate is high. Who devours these minuscule balls of fluff? Coots seem to prefer just one or two offspring, and perhaps are better at protecting them from predators- they are certainly better at hiding among the overhanging grasses and reeds along the bank, whereas the little mallards chase about in full view right across the canal, inviting attack. The deeply wooded cuttings along the Shroppie are noisy with birdsong- we can identify blackbirds and chaffinches and perhaps bluetits, but many others are beyond our knowledge. We’ve spotted several jays, some of them raiding bird tables, along with the squirrels. Loads of grumpy looking herons of course (herons always look sad, but especially so in the rain). Ernest has seen a couple of kingfishers, but I’ve missed them so far. The midges are out, but haven’t menaced us – yet. Arable fields are full of winter wheat, already tall, or newly planted sweet corn (maize). But as we head deeper into Cheshire, there is more livestock than grain: black and white cattle, and sheep with well grown lambs, fleeces sodden in the rain – I know how they feel.

Moored for the night at Gnossal. 5 locks and 17 miles in 7 engine hours. Chicken paprika for dinner, with the remains of 19 Crimes. Watched another episode of Game of Thrones – series 7 (we’re a bit behind the rest of the world). The battle scenes got a bit too much for me, so I escaped to make the bed and get ready for an early night. Rain imminent.

Friday 7 June
An early start: 7.45 a.m. departure, with the aim of beating the rain. Pleased to see the shop at Norbury Junction was open, so were able to buy milk and cake. No gin and tonic though, which was also on my wish list.

I spent much of the morning inside the boat, making bread and preparing lunch, but donned waterproofs to work the 5 Tyrley Locks down towards Market Drayton. Rested for a couple of hours over lunch while the rain beat down, then boredom drove us out again. On went the waterproofs, up went the umbrella, and we pressed onwards through the peaceful remote countryside of Cheshire: cows and sheep, ducks and ducklings, swans with 9 cygnets – is that a record? The rain eased a little as we came down the 5 Adderley Locks, but started again in earnest just after we stopped and moored. Adderley appears to be in the middle of nowhere and the internet connection is nil, so I’ll have to wait yet another day before attempting to post this blog.

10 Locks and 17.5 miles in 7.3 engine hours. Various pairs of socks now hung up to dry out, along with waterproof trousers and coats and hats. Just about warm enough in the boat. In the absence of gin and tonic, I’ve indulged in a small tot of Jura Whisky, while Ernest had a Stroud Brewery Stout. And we’ll probably open another bottle of wine to accompany the leftover veg curry followed by leftover rhubarb crumble and custard. Ernest has just said he fancies a steak and ale pie. Dream on, Sunshine!