Today was Dad’s No Good Horrible Bad Day.

Woke up at 0755, thought to self, five minutes and we’ll get up, put the kettle on, make coffee, perhaps even coffee in bed, find clothes, mooch on up to the stern, sit and look at the book in the sun for a while, etc., etc. At 0756, a sharp knocking came on the door, with ‘five minutes to lock!’. Argh! Jump out of bed, go to bathroom, sling clothes on, grab windlass and out on bow within five minutes (phew!).

Now, everyone knows that bridges across canals get really narrow, right? And everyone know that once in a while you get an ex-bridge, a bridge that is no more, a bridge that has shuffled off its mortal coil and gone to meet its maker, right? So you get the narrow bit sans bridge. Well, we had one of those. More than one as it happens, but one in particular. Keep this in mind.

You know on the roads you get those drivers in their Range Rovers or Shoguns or Warriors or other tank style 4x4 who think they own the road but can’t actually drive, but they don’t care because their tank is built to stomp over anything that gets in their way whilst fully protecting tank driver plus two point four little bratlings?

Hello ex-bridge, meet tank driver.

Hawksmoor reached ex-bridge first, and therefore had right of way. Tank driver accelerated, seemingly attempting to barge ahead (pun intended), panicked, still accelerating, hit the bank, ricocheted into rapidly braking Hawksmoor who in turn bounced into parked boat. No apologies forthcoming, just beer stoked ignorance and short tempered Hawkmoor-ites. Or something like that.

All was well in every way that counted though, just Hawksmoor sulking over her boinked nose (pout).

Parked up at Fradley Junction to go and see wildlife park. Naturally, it rained. Three ducks came along demanding rent.

Spotted several coots and their chicks, diving for weed. Two Canada geese and their two goslings came to enquire if there was bread and sailed off on finding there wasn’t.

Walked two miles down the towpath in search of The Old Boat on Mandy Lock’s recommendation and found that it was closed. We thought we might have been too early, but it was closed on the way back, too. Found a random lady in the village sweeping her pavement, and she recommended The Crown pub so we went there.

Atmosphere was incredibly friendly, the staff bumbling beans with a smile for everyone. The service didn’t bear thinking about too closely in terms of speed, but it didn’t really matter. Apart from the family next door to us who resorted to a packet of Walkers between starters and main as it took so long. All the starters were good, three out of four main courses were good and the three puddings were good. Not special, but good value and quality. Beef Stroganoff had been in the microwave one too many times. Not complaint worthy, but distinctly average.

Added bonus was a live local traditional jazz band that was pretty good on the whole, and definitely entertaining. Mum was mean nasty and cruel asking them to play Sweet Lorraine which is a very difficult piece. They did it okay, but it was more fun that they happily rose to the challenge.

Walked back in the twilight which was very lovely.