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.