Today was
planned to be a longer day in terms of locks and miles, but it was still a nice
mooch. We moored up for lunch and gossiped with
the lock-keeper at Bratch.
It was a
very good day, with sparkling weather, friendly fishermen and ducks saying hello,
but not a lot to really talk about, just interesting folk met.
There was
the Iranian publican, Roscoe, in his stripy pinny, supervising a lock from the
pub side of his adjoining wall.
Another
lock had a man with four children that he managed to keep remarkably under
control. The youngest, also the only girl, was riding a pushchair and bouncing
up and down excitedly as she pointed at Hawksmoor, shouting ‘boat! Boat!’ Of
the other three, two boys were beautifully behaved but the third was clearly a
bit of a rascal, wandering a tad too close to the lock edge, then running over
to almost throw himself into the culvert, but a couple of slightly sharp words
brought him under control.
There was a
minor distraction when we moored up and Dad couldn’t find his wallet, and boat
was searched from stem to stern. Wallet was located, along with a right sock, a
tin of tartan paint and a left-handed screwdriver.
The Mermaid at
Wightwick was open and serving food when we arrived as planned, so we ate
there, congratulating ourselves on achieving two planned eateries in a row.
Then went back to the boat and continued the doggy-bagged wine, accompanied by
Maltesers, before retiring for the night.
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