Battered boats and cleaning up

With just a handful of miles to get back to the marina, we had yet another lie-in – I feel so very spoilt, especially with a fresh coffee on hand when I woke up.

Mother concentrated on cleaning the boat, while father and I hunted for kingfishers (none to be seen today), and worked the locks.

Of note was a boat looking a little battered and run aground, or perhaps just badly positioned, whose rear gear had failed before going into a lock - we were next in the queue going uphill. A boat coming downhill offered to pull it backwards but the battered boat’s ropes were too short to throw. In conversation neither the husband nor the wife that lived aboard, a mature couple, were entirely on planet Earth – the husband was probably somewhere in orbit, while the wife clearly came from a completely different solar system.

The boat behind us had been following the battered boat for a couple of days and reported both erratic steering and erratic speech, their only saving grace, that they kept apologising to all the boats they hit.

We returned to the marina, and mother continued cleaning while father painted, pumped and preened the boat, and I busied myself updating missive and reading a book. Oh, and also emptied the Dyson hoover, which was very difficult and complicated and took at least ten minutes including the trip to the skip via the ladies’ loo.

Father went to fetch the hire car that we will use to get home tomorrow, while mother and I watched a movie and had Pimms. Which has gone to my head.

The unpredictable adventures of boating

A lovely onboard dinner, followed by a film completed another enjoyable day yesterday.

This morning began with a lie-in again, followed by coffee as usual. But mother discovered a little problem. The onboard sewage tank appeared to be full enough, that mother’s final deposit was rejected, which meant completing the journey to Great Haywood Marina today instead of tomorrow.

This was not a hardship, as we’re mooching along pretty slowly, with only nine miles to go before we reached the Marina anyway. But we decided to go in, get pumped out and top up diesel, then go down the canal for a while before turning around and mooring up.

The weather was highly changeable again. At one particular lock, father and I started it in our full wet weather gear with a full on deluge from the skies attempting to drown us. By the time we finished that one single solitary lock, I was shuffling around in my very wet and very sweaty wet weather gear while father had stripped down to shorts and tee-shirt with sunglasses and sun-hat because it was so sunny and hot.

Mother was looking forward to seeing two crows that like having bread thrown at them to catch in mid-air. Unfortunately, they were not in residence when we passed. We went hunting for a kingfisher for dad, and located one fairly soon after the hunting started. It flew across the canal in front of us and was last seen heading for the river next door.

The wildlife was good to us today, and although there were no swimming squirrels, there were flocks of gossiping sparrows in the hedgerows, the odd robin, four goldcrests taking off from a bush, and the odd heron fishing from the back of a boat.

With children back at school, new boaters are taking advantage of the shoulder season, and there were some entertaining experiences. Two boats in convoy followed us, fairly closely behind which, with locks ahead of us was somewhat indicative of their inexperience, as they would then be backed up while we went through the locks. This inexperience was further demonstrated when they had to queue behind us for entry to the lock, and made a spontaneous decision to park sideways across the canal (a deliberate decision, honest), a manoeuvre that failed to impress the boater attempting to come out of the lock to let us in.

But entertaining doesn’t have to be relegated to just new boaters – getting out of the marina we encountered a small boat that decided it needed the entire marina to manoeuvre and then questioned what we were doing as we backed away out of the boats it had tried very hard to push us into.

We are into the running down phase now, which means eating and drinking whatever weird and wonderful quantities and combinations are need to finish things off. This phase has started with too much Pimms in the Pimms so that we don’t need to take the bottle home. Is such a hardship.

Do squirrels sink or swim?

It wasn’t mother’s day yesterday as her Pimms took a flying leap off the dining room table, with some impressive assistance from her backside. We commiserated with wine, curry and a good movie.

Today the weather decided to play with us, changing by the minute from sunny and hot, to icy and wet, to hot and wet, to sunny and icy, with the odd spot of random hailstones to keep us on our toes. It should be noted that the adverse element prompted the Cook to provide a rum-topped hot drink (hic!). 

We braved Harecastle Tunnel today. Over a mile and a half of narrow canal, with a very low ceiling in parts, that had us crouching down to avoid accidental decapitation. This tunnel is not for claustrophobes or those afraid of ghosts – when the fans which keep the air moving, stop and start again after the tunnel doors lock you inside the tunnel, a ghostly mist forms, cocooning the boat and blocking any views of the outside world.

There were a number of new boaters out and about today, from the bloke who clearly thought the canal was too narrow for just his boat, let alone two passing, to the bloke whose boat appeared unable to turn right without the use of a punting pole.

We passed through Stoke-on-Trent, and through one of the locks there, we passed a beautiful boat called Pipedream, which has been lovingly looked after for nearly 15 years – I might be just a little bit in love with her.

Mother wasn’t looking forward to Stoke, because the locks were very difficult (strangely, she managed to be very busy washing her hair when we passed through those, but we’ll forgive her because of the rum) and the canal had been very dirty and grotty the last time she had been. Today it was quite lovely, with just a couple of beer bottles and a coke can in the water to spoil it.

There aren’t that many homeless people along the canal, so it was a bit of a surprise to find a gentleman of lesser means in his very posh sleeping bag under a bridge, listening to a radio.

Wildlife has not disappointed, with a small bat flying out of his tower and across the canal and back.

We were happily pootling along when we thought we saw a water vole swimming across the canal in front of us. A very long water vole with a very long tail. As it happened, its trajectory matched ours, and we could see that it was in fact a squirrel. It met our hull, and attempted to board us. It kept attempting all the way along, until it came to the back end of our boat, at which point it struck out for the bank it had been aiming for in the first place. As we moved on, we were pleased to see that it reached the bank, scaled the short concrete step and scampered safely into the trees.

We moored up next to a family of swans – two parents and two over-grown cygnets, fully grown, but still grey feathered, with their nobbly bits not yet grown. I was so distracted by these, that I nearly forgot my Pimms.

Of boaters and ducks

We watched Miss Congeniality last night, and mother decided that I was just like Gracie Hart. So did most of my friends and colleagues that I shared this with. I think I’m flattered.

Slept in again this morning, which was lovely. We had a flight of 12 locks to deal with, which were very picturesque, if a little bit hard work. Some of the paddles needed some enthusiastic persuasion to turn.

We met many interesting people, such as the volunteer who had loads of information on the building of the locks to share, and his companion who was painting numbers on all the lock gates.

There was the boat ahead of us, who had also had problems with swing bridges, although not the same ones we had problems with. There was a boat full of Norwegians who were having fun. There was a boat with a very cross lady on board because the boat ahead of us lock jumped them. There was a boat whose wife (on the shore) made her husband (on the boat) run aground because she was cross with him, and there was the boat who used his bow-thrusters all the time, which almost pushed the boat in front of us into the adjacent cow field.

The wildlife today was good. Buzzards came close enough to see individual feathers, swallows were skimming the canal catching insects, and there may even have been an owl making a quick flight through some trees. We saw more herons, squirrels and swans for the first time, and some ducks with late clutches, the ducklings still fuzzy and squeaking. One solo duck followed us for a while, flying and landing to catch bread thrown, and attempting to hover with the most inelegant flapping of wings over the stern to announce her presence.

Mother took a rather impressive flying leap from the back stairs (but is okay), father has gone to climb a nearby mountain, and I think it must be Pimms o’clock, but maker of Pimms (mother) appears to have been distracted by a moorhen. 

The Macclesfield mooch

A lie-in happened again this morning, and there was just a single swing bridge were two swing bridges to take care of in the afternoon.

There were many herons to be seen, including one bunched up like Cousin It, keeping his feet warm. Mother threw bread at crows hoping that they might catch it on the fly. None did, though one retrieved a piece somehow and wandered around with it in his beak – perhaps the fact that it was garlic confused it.

We met two little day boaters coming in the opposite direction. The first boat was sent spinning by a cruiser under-taking it at speed (possibly by as much as five miles an hour), but they managed to regain control with the help of a pole and instructions from father. Some of the passengers were dressed up as parrots and chickens, and I’m sure there’s a headless joke in there somewhere.

Macclesfield was the highlight of the day, as mother spent an enjoyable time studying O-Levels there as a teenager and was keen to revisit it.

Finding somewhere to moor was a bit tricky, but father and I made efforts to get us in a mooring where the bottom of the canal was arguably a bit too near the top – but we got in eventually.

We saw what we think was the Hovis factory – it looked mill-like, although it seems to have been converted into flats now. We found our way into town and while much of it has been redeveloped, there are still a lot of the old cobbled streets and buildings in situ, which meant that key parts were still recognisable after 50 years.

Upon returning to the boat, we had lunch, and were almost joined by a large green caterpillar that hitched a ride in on father’s fleece.

The first swing bridge was heavy to push, but okay – the second snuck up on us without warning. It had actual cars going over it, and road barriers to drop down and loud alarms to activate and everything. It was extraordinarily complex with a lot of hard labour - my index finger may never recover from holding the button that did it all, down.

I may have to convalesce with a Pimms.

Pirates and Currie ahoy!

Last night we enjoyed a steak dinner on board, retired to bed and snored all the way through to 8am. Today we went into the pirate infested waters of the Macclesfield Canal. With actual pirates.

My morning started as usual with coffee brought to me in bed, and I enjoyed the view of the national monument through partially opened curtains to the bow. Some chirping and fluttering drew my attention to two greenfinches playing there, flying from one side to the other, perching on the bench, and hovering in front of the window.

After getting up, we moved to the water point, topped up, had breakfast and started on our way up a short arm of canal to a turning point, just to see what was up there. Not a lot really, apart from a random encounter on the way up with a lady walking her dog. A somewhat familiar looking mature lady with perfectly coiffured hair and bright lipstick. We discussed the matter, and decided that it was probably Edwina Currie. We turned around in the basin and started to head back, encountering her on her return journey also. It was indeed Ms Currie, and father got so excited he forgot to steer the boat and hit the wall.

We returned down the Peak Forest Canal, with all the swing and lift bridges behaving themselves beautifully, mother cleaned house without tracking mud all over, and then we entered the Macclesfield Canal.

No sooner had we begun this stretch than we identified a pirate ship pootling down the canal straight at us. Or, more correctly, weaving in our general direction. It was just half our size and listing heavily, but it had a large crew on board, most of whom were waving their beer at us and swallowing their swords. Or perhaps the other way around. And definitely threatening to board us and shiver our timbers.

As they didn’t hit us, we laughed and shook our heads at their antics and continued on with our sandwiches and pink wine. A bit later on, a horn sounded in the distance behind us, and lo and behold but the drunken pirate ship was catching us up. The pirates ducked in and out of moored boats, circumnavigated flotillas of ducks and threatened to board unsuspecting canoes, all without ever hitting anything and we decided that the helmsman was in fact a highly talented steerer who was giving the happy tourists a fun ride.

We let them overtake us, which they did with good humour and much laughter and they disappeared into the distant horizon. Having thought we’d escaped the marauding pirates unmolested, we were almost alarmed to see another pirate ship coming towards us. This one slower and straighter, with less beer and more wine. The crew were rather more mature, though no less costumed and piratical.

Continuing on, we passed herons stalking fish on the banks, one so still we didn’t see him until he was right next to us at the stern. We passed adults with small children too, and asked them if they’d seen the pirates. Yes, they replied, and wanted to know if we were going to catch them because that would be exciting. One little girl went so far as to enquire if we had pirates aboard because she was scared of them and she wouldn’t like us if we did.

As we are high up at the moment, the views have been spectacular, especially the steep drops, the viaducts, and the great city of Manchester down and distant. And oh, look, it’s Pimms o’clock again.

The problem with swing bridges

The Chinese meal we had was delicious, and we watched My Big Fat Greek Wedding, before retiring to bed thoroughly knackered.

Having moored at a random spot in the middle of the countryside, it was lovely to be lying in bed with just the sound of leaves gently rustling in the trees, the delicate lapping of water against the hull, the odd duck have a little quack in the distance, all periodically broken by the quiet shriek of jet engines less than 500 feet above as planes came in to land at Manchester Airport.

We had a lie-in this morning until 8am, with 16 locks in one mile to look forward to. They were hard work, but fuelled with coffee and cookies, over soon enough that we had lunch at a civilised 2.30pm with a grey heron for company.

 Actually the locks were very enjoyable, picturesque and gentle, especially compared with yesterday’s.

Mother tidied up the boat, hoovered through and generally made it homely, immediately before tracking muddy boots throughout.

The afternoon was spotted with lift bridges and the odd swing bridge. And I do mean odd, as the first one would not lock back into place after we passed through. A cast iron element was bent too far out of true, that try as we might - hitting, bending and yelling at it - we could not get it to lock. So we gave up, and with a final careless shove, were astounded to see it effortlessly slot into place. The second odd swing bridge was much better behaved, although did make sure it put in an objection before doing so.

Tonight we are moored in Bugsworth Basin, which is an ancient monument. I don’t think I’ve ever slept in an ancient monument before. Time for Pimms.

Anti-vandal keys and litterbugs

We had an excellent meal at the Ox last night. It’s a friendly place, with limited, but gorgeous food. Which father bought us, before casually mentioning that since we have a few locks first thing, we might like to go to bed at a decent time.

A few locks turned out to be 27 over five miles, and we ended up having lunch at 4.30 pm. The first nine were big double locks and the last 18 were single, but very deep.

But we’re old pros at locks, so weren’t expecting any real problems other than the odd stiff paddle or gate (kinky much?).

Apart from the anti-vandal keys, which were also anti-approved user keys. If the lock hadn’t been tightened up too much, then the bolt was so worn the key spun around without getting grip. If the bolt wasn’t worn then it was probably misaligned, so re-jigging and persuasion was required. If the bolt behaved, then the iron strap wouldn’t come off the paddle. And so on. Tempers may have frayed slightly and windlasses may have been used in a non-approved manner.

And apart from all the landfill, which people have decided belongs in the canal. We had a plastic beer glass and some plastic bags around our propeller. We passed a boat who had just spent 45 minutes removing a carpet that had snagged around theirs. Which caused father to reminisce about the time we had a mattress snagged around ours.

And apart from the water levels being low which made running aground a bit of a possibility.

And apart from the rental boat ahead of us who kept leaving the paddles up. And locking the anti-vandal locks to make sure they stayed that way. Which greatly increased chances of running aground,

And greatly increased the chances of spontaneous canal-side violence should we ever catch up to the rental given the lock crew’s extra workload of manually pulling the boat with ropes, having to open extra paddles to run enough water through that the boat could travel without hitting bottom, as well as having to finish off their work before starting our own.

It was an adventure and an experience. A lot of it was fun, especially the mini-porkpies while waiting for a lock to fill, and people we chatted with along the way. Including man with little son Dylan on his shoulders who watched us work a lock. They wandered off along the towpath, and after a very short while we caught up with them. Dylan was happily riding on dad’s shoulders, but dad was quaking in his boots as he was faced with the fiercest type of dragon to be found along the towpath, the fearsome Canada goose. Taking a deep breath, he took the goose on and scuttled past. Only to be confronted by two more of the terrifying beasties. Taking pity, we called to the two geese who turned to look at us, and taking advantage of the distraction, man and son bravely ran around the outside of them to safety.

And there was plenty to entertain. Herons sitting on brick walls, Canada geese following us in single file – which was impressive given that there were around fifty birds in the flock. I opened a swing bridge, and they passed our boat to go through ahead of us and make their way one by one up the bank and into a field.

Another junction and another swing bridge, followed by a simply stunning kingfisher. I have seen the flash of blue as they dart away, but never seen one still and close enough to see its markings before.

The weather has been cool and grey and threatening to rain all day, but has so far held off. I took a shower as the evening started to draw in, and started by running the bath until the temperature was right, at which point I hit the button that changed the water flow to the shower. No water ran which was a little disconcerting. Until suddenly, a big fat water balloon narrowly missed my head and splatted in the bottom of the bath. I mean, who leaves shower caps on the end of shower heads anyway?

 It’s nearly 7pm as I type and we are still pootling along, but having showered, I am enjoying a deservedly large Pimms in mother’s company. We might be having Chinese tonight.

Hawksmoor Day 1

Abandoned kits to catch train to Manchester. The trains were well behaved, the passengers not so much.

One suit type and one stubbly artist type argued over reserved seats. Venomous insults such as ‘you have very bad manners and clearly have no idea how to shave’ and ‘are all your suits blue, because you look like a conformist to me’ flew thick and fast.

A punch by each failed to make contact with anything other than a bewildered bluebottle, and they finally settled for sitting opposite to engage in a glaring contest. Right up until they each got distracted by their iPhones bleeping.

Father was waiting on the correct platform at exactly the point my carriage stopped (which was very impressive) and escorted me to our chauffeur driven vehicle (otherwise known as a Number 3 free city bus) which dropped us off vaguely near Hawksmoor.

Passed Museum of Science and Industry which apparently has fabulous old cars inside and planned to go there later.

I was greeted with coffee and lunch, which included a scrummy cream cake, all lovingly prepared by mother.

The day was shaping up awesomely.

Then we went shopping, ultimate target M&S, which meant that, naturally, it started to rain. Heavily.

Museum of Science and Industry was closed for refurbishment.

Undeterred, we headed for the nearest Sainsbury Local, where mother cunningly hid the loaf of bread she’d identified as hers at the back of the bread shelf.

Then we took a number 3 bus from outside the Sainsbury to the Arndale Centre.

Or at least to a stop where we could change on to a number 2 which would take us to the Arndale centre.

Except that, having been on the number 3 for ten or fifteen minutes, we eventually realised that we were approaching an astonishingly familiar Sainsbury’s.

So we got off and walked instead.

Having located the Arndale Centre, we discovered that there was no M&S. So we looked around BHS, where mother took an escalator up. And immediately took the escalator down. Apparently because she likes escalators (I’m now thinking about getting her an Oyster card for Christmas – hours of fun…).

We then all took the escalator up, and with some help from the nice BHS lady, located M&S further down the road. Purchases purchased, we located the number 2 bus directly outside M&S and got on that, planning to stay on, as it’s a circular route that would drop us off not too far away from our Sainsbury Local.

After travelling for ten minutes in the wrong direction, the driver announced last stop and kicked us all off.

Fortunately it was a bus station, and after navigating stand numbers and zebra crossings, we located the next number 2 which took us where we wanted to go. Sainsbury’s Local still had the loaf of bread that mother had sneakily hidden, and we headed back to the boat.

Now have a cup of tea and a large pink wine. Will head off to the pub shortly for food (no buses involved).

Canal Holiday - Day 8

Friday morning, we lay in snug as bugs, and knowing that our holiday was just about over.

We packed, and cleaned the boat, talked to the maria swan who agreed to share our bread in exchange, and said goodbye to the marina staff.

We checked out the farmhouse shop and the Anglo Welsh shop and found they didn't really contain much. We said our goodbyes, got in our cars and came back home.

Consumed on this cruise:

Biscuits: 2 packs

Cookies: 3 packs

Chocolates: 4 bags

Milk: 1 cow

Beer: We started with a four pack, but then discovered that Sainsbury was doing eight for £9...

Wine: Doesn’t count when drunk on holiday

Ham: 5 packs

Bread: 3 loaves

Soup: 6 cartons

Salad: Yes

Teabags: Many

Coffee: 1 jar

Breakfast: Optional

Flapjacks: Lots of lumps

Caramel shortcake: Lots of pieces

Fruit: When remembered

Pub dinners: 7

Diet coke: 1 crate

Hot cross buns: Morning and afternoon

TV/DVDs: Too knackered

Canal Holiday - Day 7

We set off at a reasonable time in order to get back the Marina for some servicing and repairs that had been previously booked in. It was a pleasurable cruise, working our last locks with flapjacks and biscuits fuelling the way.

Tixall Wide was deemed to be a beautiful enough place to have lunch. Well, I deemed it beautiful and Dad decided to stop there for lunch.

After we’d pumped out, and Neil, the man who was scheduled to make the repairs, had started work, we walked around the marina to try and find a kingfisher.

We failed at that, but we did discover the Great Haywood Monster in the form of the most enormous carp you have ever seen. Its mouth was big enough to swallow a duck whole.


We wandered off towards the pub, detouring via Shugborough Park to view the very big house and talk to the cows and calves that were very curious, although very timid.


At the pub, we had the best meal of the holidays - goujons big enough and and packed enough to be a main meal in their own right, and we had them for starters. We celebrated the conclusion of a wonderful few days, as well as not sinking anything, and retired back to the boat.

Canal Holiday - Day 6

Compared to Tuesday, we had a very sedate cruise. It’s worth noting here that while the news is prattling on about drought, the Staffs and Worcs Canal is quite possibly one body of water that may not need to worry as it is topped up by the run-off from a massive sewage works. A run-off that was strong enough to make us go sideways for a short while.

A sign on another boat made both Jennie and I simultaneously burst into evil cackles - ‘Grow Your Own Dope - Plant A Man’.

Jennie’s highlight was the discovery of a boat named ‘The Black Pearl’. Did I mention that she loves the ‘Pirates’ movies?

The highlight of the day came in the evening though. I adore swans, most especially talking to them on a one-to-one level aided by bread. I know that bread is not terribly good for them, but I don’t think I’ve yet killed one, and just a little lets me get up close and personal.

There haven’t been many swans this cruise, and none that I’ve had the opportunity to talk to, but having spotted a nesting pair on the way out, Dad made a point of mooring up somewhere nearby so that I could pay them a visit. Mrs. Swan was on her nest, and while she had created it next to a road on the other side of the lock, I didn’t think I’d be popular if I went near it, so I stuck to the opposite side of the canal and talked to Mr Swan.

Who was very happy to talk to me. Especially in return for bread. Which made me very happy.

On the way back to the boat, we happened to come across what had to be the season’s first ducklings. Darting around like little dodgems, they were very, very cute.

We went into Penkridge for dinner, and ate at The Star, a pub with beautiful old internal walls. It was such an old pub, that it didn’t take credit cards.

Returning back to the boat, we finished off the evening and the Maltesers and headed to bed.

Canal Holiday - Day 5

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.

Canal Holiday - Day 4

It was Friar Tuck-ing freezing this morning, and even though coffee came my way, I could not bring myself to get out of bed while I could see my own breath.

Eventually, and by that I do mean before 8am, crawling out of bed did happen, and it wasn’t quite as cold as anticipated.  Coffee and hot-cross buns soon sorted us out, and our journey continued.


We arrived at a particular lock, the first that Jennie was doing by herself, and a boat was coming the other way after we were in the lock. The helpful lady that was its crew was a bit put out (silently sour-faced) when Jennie asked, if she was going to help (as she was insisting she would do), could she please open the opposite gate to the one she was leaning against as that would then leave Jennie on the towpath side of the lock.

The really excellent part of the lady’s lock etiquette was her complete failure to inform her boat, who would not have been able to see with the very large bridge in the way, that the lock was occupied.

Supermarket parking for boats!

So, when the gate opened, we started to move out, but the incoming boat was right there, and moving to come in. The helmsman clearly hadn’t had his coffee yet, and stared at us for a while, waiting for us to magically transport ourselves out of the lock. After a long toot he moved out of the way, and we were able to pass and continue. He was awfully apologetic so we smiled and carried on our way.


We stopped at a Sainsbury that had conveniently situated branch on the canal side and, because we didn't have to buy for dinner, managed a supersonic whistle-stop shop.

Pootling onwards, we encountered a lock which was wrapped up in orange netting, with some fellas doing stuff. We were informed by fellas that stuff would take a couple of hours, so we decided that it would be a wonderful time to have lunch.

It turned out that some boater had attempted to steal a ground paddle. Or to put it another way, upon lowering the paddle after it had done its job, he (assuming it was a he because of the sheer strength needed) decided that the paddle hadn’t dropped far enough and forced it further down. The paddle in fact being down as far as it would go, pushed against the stone under it, pushing the entire ground paddle, *and* the stone it was sitting on, up in the air. Some feat if you manage it!

One of the fellas, a simple man, had a rake, and at some point, the business end fell off into the canal, so he spent most of the operation with a magnet on a piece of string, fishing for it.  He did retrieve it eventually, and was very pleased with himself even though he didn't help much with mending of the lock, but while helping to clear away, he then managed to kick the bucket. Into the canal.

We met a boat with two shiny new boaters fresh out of the marina. We met them at one of those awkward bridges on bends. They were closest to the bridge coming the other way, so we slowed and manoeuvred to allow them through.

In response, they did an emergency stop and reversed so that we could go through, in the process inadvertently spinning their boat and hitting the bank with their bow. We progressed through and as they managed to get their back end under control and crashed that up against the bank too, we went neatly around them.

They reversed and made another run at the bridge, but the bow had other ideas, preferring to be attached to the bank (I think the boat was scared and wanted to moor up where it was nice and safe), and we left them reversing for yet another attempt at getting under that bridge.

We followed a goose for a while.  A Canada goose, which thought we were after it. It swam ahead of us and flew off every time we got too close. Four times this happened, so I’m sure it felt very paranoid by the time it found some other Canada geese which it aimed straight for and hid amongst.

When we reached the end of the canal at Stourport, we went for a wander. We admired new-build apartments with premium boat berths and no doubt premium prices. We found a carnival and debated the pros and cons of sampling a ride - the cons won.

We did, however, agree that sampling the wares of an ice cream hut was a mandatory requirement and acquired large 99 ice creams, complete with flakes.

We started on our return journey, and stopped for the night in Wolverley. Trying to get a mobile signal to check in with Mum proved somewhat difficult though. But eventually Dad managed it, just in time for dinner.

Which was divine, with pepper mash and beer-batter fish, although the vegetables had been steamed well and truly into the next life. Another night, tired out from lots of fresh air and food, we had hot choccy and went to sleep.

Canal Holiday - Day 3

The clocks went forward, and after a fab night’s sleep didn’t get up until 9.30. But it was a quick off the starting blocks kind of get up, with Bratch Locks just a few moments away.

We navigated the locks, with its slightly more complicated paddle system, and then tackled the two lock staircase at Botterley Bottom, before continuing on to Kinver.

There were many, many fishermen almost all day along the banks. Most were thankful that we were going slowly, but some were asking us to go faster which seemed contrary. A conversation revealed that if it the fish weren't biting there was a theory that  a boat going faster might get the fish biting. Whether this theory held any water was a matter for much fishermen debate.


We also found our first real gongoozlers, and Jennie is considering opening a sideline business in adjusting the times on people’s phones when the clocks change.

Taking on water was interesting, as the widget at the end of the hose didn’t fit properly and kept popping off the tap. Dad finally got it to stay, albeit very leaky and ran the water, and then we all sat down in the bow for lunch.

After lunch, Dad lifted the hose from the tank to see how it was doing and discovered that it wasn’t - the water had been happily pouring down the drain. Trying again, he did manage to finally get a good fit. After admiring cyclists who stopped and lifted their bikes over our hose, or jumped them over, we filled up and moved on.

Upon mooring up at Kinver we went for a little wander, and discovered the little tiny narrow-gauge railway which was very, very cute. But not open properly until Easter.

We decided to check that our target pub, The Vine, was open, and found that it was not, much to the consternation not only of ourselves, but also two young ladies who were stunningly dolled up in posh summer frocks and had walked a blister-inducing 20 yards in fabulous heels to get there. We found out later through gossip along the cut, that the proprietor had done a midnight flit just after Christmas with the takings.

We decided to research alternatives.

But only after sitting on the boat in the sunshine with wine and cookies.

Deciding upon an Indian meal, we enjoyed a buffet at the Shimla curry house, right up until I bit into what must have been the world’s hottest chili. The other two continued to enjoy their meals while my head exploded.

On the way back, we spent time staring at stars and satellites in a beautifully clear sky, before enjoying hot choccy and going to bed.

Canal Holiday - Day 2

The most important thing that happened on Saturday was that Jennie and I both lay in. Dad did four locks before I thought about getting out of bed, because I was just too snug. And I got coffee in bed too.

After that, we made sure Dad was kept well fed and watered. Obviously the fact that we fed him cookies, caramel shortcake and muffins meant that we were forced to join him in consuming these things. In our defense, we also made a large healthy lunch with vegetables and everything.

Things spotted along the canal included a heron at the top of a tall tree, which was disconcerting. Also swans on nests, buzzards in the sky, and a pair of pigeons attempting to mate. I say attempting, because they were on a narrow railing and every time Mr Pigeon attempted the mounting part of the operation, he fell off.

This heron was actually on top of an actual tree.

We moored at the top of Bratch Locks and wandered off, looking for the Round Oak, a pub that had been recommended at the bottom of the locks and along a little way. We found it easily enough. It was busy and bright, with sounds of enjoyment and people carrying drinks.

But no food. Apparently they, and the surrounding pubs, shut down their kitchens early on a Saturday. But the landlord did say that there was a New Inn further up the canal that would definitely be open. He also mentioned that the towpath was the best way to walk.

It was dark and, not knowing where we were going, other than following Dad’s torch like, we walked and walked and walked. We found a bridge and looked around, but nothing hopeful was to be seen, so we kept on walking. Soon we spotted another bridge in the distance, and decided that we would go no further on from that.

As we approached, on the opposite side of the canal by the bridge, an enormously gigantic broccoli loomed out of the dark. Upon closer inspection the broccoli turned out to be a large sprawling tree lit up with green light in front of the New Inn.

Upon arriving we learnt that there was well over an hour waiting time for a table, but that if we were willing to wait they would ensure that we were fed at some point before the kitchens closed. We decided to wait, and Dad made a recognizant visit to all the special boards. En route, he encountered a young lady staff member, and after informing her of our tribulations, she found us a table with a Reserved sign on it that wasn't being used. 


With wine and beer in hand, and pre-dinner snacklets, we were set. Starters didn't take long to arrive, and the main course was a little while after that. Dinner eaten, alcohol demolished, and congratulations bestowed upon Dad for circumventing the food waiting time, we began our trek back to the boat. This, now that we knew where we were going, was a lot quicker than the way out.

We encountered a gentleman walking his dog who was a lot more terrified of us than we were of him, even though we’d seen enough movies to know that meeting a stranger on a dark towpath at night was never a good thing.

By the time we got to the boat, we were so tired, we went straight to bed, and even the sofa-bed behaved.

Canal Holiday - Day 1

Our trip to Stafford started off very well. Everything came together nicely, with me setting off to meet Dad at the station exactly on time. The M25 threatened to cause us major delays, but in the end, favoured us with a total loss of no more than 15 minutes, which is rather good for that particular road.

When we got to Birmingham, Dad suggested that we take a slightly different combination of motorways than the Satnav wanted to, and although the Satnav got a bit grumpy about it, Dad’s M5 alternative did seem like a better route - perhaps slightly longer mileage, but not as busy or as full of variable speed limits as the M42. A bit of a shame about the M5 roadworks that delayed us.

From the M6 Satnav wanted to come off at Junction 12, but Dad suggested Junction 13. A fabulous idea as slightly longer mileage, but meant avoiding town centers. Satnav happily agreed with that as a good second choice. A bit of a shame about the road closure off J13 that delayed us.

In any event, we arrived at the marina in good time according to our schedule to find Jennie waiting for us and enjoying the sun. Dad introduced us to lots of people, and a nice man gave us a trolley to haul our luggage in.

We said hello to Hawksmoor and, after unpacking food, we cast off, coasting regally out of our berth.

But only about half way because there was a traffic jam.

Once the jam was cleared we continued to regally coast out of our berth and towards the marina exit. It’s a sharp left hand turn to the exit, and Hawksmoor is a long (58ft) boat, weighing in at 16 tonnes, but even considering that, she wasn’t really turning left so much as vaguely wandering left.

But eventually we managed it and sailed regally out of the marina.

It all kind of had to be regally, because we weren’t going very fast. And when your normal top speed is 4mph, that’s significantly slow.

We pootled through the stunningly beautiful Tixall Wide, said hello to the ducks and geese and coots and moorhens, and most especially the herons.

Our first lock came upon us and Jennie learned how to go uphill in a narrow boat.

While in the lock, Dad looked at the propeller and retrieved a very large thick plastic yellow bag from around it. With the bag no longer hindering us, we left the lock faster than a speeding snail.

The sun had set and it was going dark when we moored up opposite a pretty but sprawling pub/hotel, the Moat House. As anyone who has been on a cruise ship knows, first night etiquette is almost always casual. So, all of us being rather tired, we decided to emulate that and didn’t bother changing clothes, or having a shower, preferring to head straight for food and alcohol as soon as possible.

We crossed a bridge to get on to the Moat House side of the canal, but discovered that there was a house between us and it, which was a little bemusing. Having found our way around the house, we rediscovered the Moat House, except there was now a pond in the way. Walking along a bit further, we spotted another pond which seemed to also be in the way, until it became obvious that there was a walkway between the two, providing access over what turned out to be an actual moat.

Upon entering we were met by a very lovely Maitre D’ called Tom who organized a table for us after sending us to the bar for drinks. As soon as we were served, he came to get us, and led us through a small maze to the ‘conservatory’.

It was a bit posh.

We took a seat and decided that we didn't look too scruffy when sat down.

The food was absolutely divine. Whoever would have thought that a poached egg yolk on top of a salmon risotto would make the whole thing so yummy? The modest jug of water which, due to tiredness, I failed to specify should be tap, came in at near on £4 so one can guess the kind of costs they charged. But it was very beautiful food.

Happily full, with the soft glow of a small amount of wine and beer, we went back to the boat, which was in fact only a three minute walk.

We played cards over hot chocolate, but completely shattered, we turned in.

Or would have turned in, except that trying to figure out how the sofa-bed, which Jennie was sleeping in, worked. Eventually, after trying to translate instructions and pushing this way and that in a very small space, it gave up, we won, and it turned into a bed.

And so we turned in, switching the lights off.

Or would have done except that the carbon monoxide alarm decided to inform us that it needed new batteries.


After that we really did turn in.

New nephew, nuts and not happy kits

First off, number one nephew has arrived! And such a good looking boy he is too. Mum and baby are both doing well, and baby is feeding lots. And lots and lots and lots.

I spent a couple of days with the new parents in Wiltshire, helping the new grandparents to fuss over baby boy, and in the end, gave new grandparents a lift back home to East Kent.

Note little red lotus in the background, which made me very happy. Shame its driver wasn't nearly as cute.

The drive back home turned into a short-term stay in a lorry park on the M20/26 merge, but we passed the time talking to lorry drivers, chatting amongst ourselves and eating roasted peanuts. The peanuts being consumed in the hope that the subsequent dehydration would stave off the need to visit the little girl's crash barrier.

Kits were Not Happy upon my return as one of the two cat feeders I use for  short stays away failed. On the plus side, no dead gifts in the hallway for me to tread on, but on the downside, a hairball in the middle of the duvet, and something decomposing somewhere unreachable in the kitchen.

This dragon is not Toothless.

 I have spent the winter weekends thus far this year working on a cross-stitch, and this last weekend, I finished it. Is an awsome dragon, I think. And speaking of dragons, while in Wiltshire, we watched How to Train Your Dragon. It's kind of a kiddy cartoon, but the dragons are just the cutest ever, and its worth watching for them alone.

I watched the Dead Poet's Society last weekend, which I haven't seen in years. Actually couldn't remember why Robin Williams got the Oscar, as a couple of those boys were just brilliant.


Have discovered that my local Tesco and Sainsbury have both had growth spurts and are now super-mega-colossal-stores. Or something.

And did I mention how gorgeous new nephew is?