Awoke to find ourselves on the other side of the canal, taking on water. Still no other boats in sight, still nervous about what everyone else knew that we didn’t.

British Waterways bod came along and told us that we would be first through the tunnel from this side, and that our side would go first. Bonus! Very sweet British Waterways lady who was Italian warned me about the ghost in the tunnel which we spotted two thirds of the way through.

The tunnel itself was forty five minutes long (nearly two miles), and dark and cold and wet. Anticipated coming out the other side into the warm sunshine to heat our frozen bones as one might rightly expect on the summery longest day of the year. It stank of sulphur even after the very large tunnel fans had cleared the air. There was a worrying thump at the rear end of the boat half way through, but as it was not accompanied by a splash, we weren’t too worried.

For the three of us that spent the duration in the front of the boat, (Dad helmed at the rear), we found ourselves exiting the tunnel to two unexpected surprises. The first was that there was no sun to warm the cockles. It wasn’t raining, but the sun hadn’t made an appearance either, in fact the wind seemed to be in charge and it was a bit nippy. Kinda like a nice day in February.

The other surprise was the vision of both Dad and stern of the boat looking distinctly orange. Now, neither Dad nor Hawksmoor boasts of orange in either of their livery under normal circumstances. Upon closer inspection it became clear that part of the tunnel had become bored with its lot in life and decided to hitchhike upon Dad’s head to the great outdoors. Alternatively, perhaps Dad was trying to discreetly paint himself orange for tonight’s Holland v Argentina game.

Once we had cleared the tunnel, it was Chris and my turn to step up to the plate and begin the first of twenty-six locks that needed to be covered today. We were slick, (and Murphy may well ensure we aren’t that good again although of course the Black Sheep beer may contribute to any lack of efficiency too) even to the extent of casually overtaking another boat in a twin lock. The only aggravation was the amount of locks discovered abandoned with gates open and paddles up. Funnily, this stopped happening after we overtook that boat.

Made a pit stop for lunch at the Romping Donkey at lock seventeen (of the day), decided that the OAP carvery wasn’t that exciting and had the Black Sheep beer instead. Went back to boat for fry-up Mum cooked instead. The boat we overtook passed us.

The crew having been satisfactorily refuelled, the last ten locks were attacked with vigour by all members despite weather’s attempt at sabotage by hitting us with squalls which had some people adding and removing clothing by turns.

The interesting thing about these locks was that they were twins, therefore theoretically having two locks to choose from. However, at almost every lock, one of the twins was in disrepair. Or being repaired. Or had been filled in.

We almost caught up to the boat we’d overtaken earlier in the day, and who subsequently overtook us. It was easy to tell it was them as we were once again coming across locks with their bottom gates open and paddles up.

Rain and wind settled in just as we moored for the night.

We went to The Nag’s Head in Wheelock (no clamping jokes please) for dinner. Somewhat dubious due to the plastic table cloths, it was in fact a really good atmosphere with good value basic quality food.

We met four Kiwis, Dave, Helen, Bruce and Joan who were a complete scream and attempting the Four Counties ring, a six day attempt for ‘Ard boaters and they were doing it as novices and doing really well. Bruce bequeathed Chris with a new nickname after his sheep jokes: Baa-sil.

Louis the barman screwed our food orders up, but he was honest and apologetic, and all the customers were boaters so it really didn’t matter, although am still not convinced by Mum’s assertion that the liver and onions was very good (shudder). The evening was a great laugh and the footie in the background was a good backdrop which only added to the atmosphere. And all lubricated by Arizona beer stuff.

Among other things we were warned that a paddle was dead on lock 69, which we were due to go through tomorrow, and queues of around two hours were happening. The British Waterways guy had been and thrown a strop when he found the parts he had been given were not the parts required for the job. He apparently threw even more of a strop when he attempted to get access to a local spare parts shed and no one would give him the key. Therefore he left the paddle taped up and went home.