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.
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