Longest, Highest, Deepest.

Show me a man who greets passers by with a cheery “’ Mornin’ “ at 2pm and I’ll show you a man who hasn’t had his lunch. Late lunches on the move have been the order of the day. Shallow canals mean good moorings are hard to find so the day’s boating also tends to be a bit longer than usual.

“You dropped off again?”
“I was only having forty……well a hundred winks,” herself declares.
“I’ve opened 21 locks and walked 5 miles today!” himself responds.
“Well then,” she says,”no wonder I’m tired!”

From this gay badinage you may gather that our intrepid pair are on top form. Well not quite. Herself is still troubled with pains in the right side from her strained muscles/trapped nerve? Some days OK, others not; one consolation, ”It’s not stopping her sleeping!”

Rain showers there have been; some light, some heavy but none, thank goodness, quite like the stair-rods of that first day on the Macclesfield canal. After the Bosely flight of locks we continue lock free on the Mac with its elegant stone turnover bridges to Marple and take a right onto the Upper Peak Forest Canal to Bugsworth Basin. We recalled this as a quiet spot; not so now with the Whaley Bridge bypass close by. This remarkably restored set of basins, so rural and green, hard to imagine the smoke, dust and grime of the place in it’s working heyday, with it’s constantly burning limekilns and rattling tramway trucks bringing limestone down the inclined plane from the quarries. A hard life for the horse boater; a far cry from our leisurely boating life. A pleasant day spent connecting what we see on the ground with the sometimes ambiguous descriptions in the information literature.

In the terminal basin at Whaley Bridge a man with his radio controlled boat has to steam out of our way as we wind (boater speak for turn round ). A chat with him once we have moored as he is firing up a live steam powered launch. Himself parks her in a tea shop as he takes the fifteen minute walk up the main street to Coleman’s butcher .What a man will do to lay his hands on serious award winning black pudding and sausages!

For scenery you can’t beat the Upper Peak Forest Canal. It wanders high up on the limestone hillside giving views over the Goyt valley to the Derbyshire High Peaks. From Whaley Bridge you can see up to Kinder Scout and Edale Moor. “I want a view!” she says; and we find one, a convenient gate so we can see through the towpath hedge as we sit in the evening sun in the fore well deck. A rare spot with enough depth by the bank to avoid having to use the gangplank to bridge the gap between boat and shore.

Back to the Junction with the Mac at Marple and we start down the Lower Peak Forest with the 16 lock Marple flight, which along with the Bosely locks on the Mac are one of the most delightful flights of locks on the system. Now one of the joys of this way of life is the delightful people you meet, like young Oliver, his Dad and little sister Poppy. They had passed the locks many times by car but had decided that at last they must stop and have a closer look. Oliver helps with opening the gates as himself points out and explains the remnants of the horse boating days. What nicer way to spend a sunny morning than in pleasant conversation while boating.

At the junction with the Ashton canal we take another right and head for the Huddersfield Narrow Canal. Now this is not a place for the feint hearted. Seventy four locks in the space of twenty miles as you climb over the Pennines and at the summit, the awesome Standendge tunnel, all 3miles 418yards of it; 17 years in the building, the longest tunnel on the system, the highest at 645 feet above sea level and the deepest being a maximum of 638 feet beneath the highest point of the moor above. This is serious boating. The restoration of this unique waterway is a tribute to the enthusiasm and perseverance of the Huddersfield Canal Society. But for them it would have been lost for ever.

As you enter the canal at lock 1W, you get the distinct feeling that not many boats travel this way. No canal side gardens with boats moored at the bottom of them here. It’s not until we are moored at Stalybridge that we meet our first boat. Now Stalybridge has embraced the canal and made a feature of the restored section through the town centre. Only thing that’s lacking is boats, instead it has litter; shame.

Along the length of the canal the remains of the once proud mills of the woollen textile industry that was the heart and soul of these valleys. At Uppermill (once a center of weaving, now a tourist hotspot with the Saddleworth Moor towering above it) a visit to the Museum beside the canal helps us understand the past life of this district. Now we can spot the hand loom weavers houses with their rows of mullioned windows on the top floor to provide maximum light for the weaver.

Shallows make the journey to Diggle and the Tunnel, shall we say, interesting. Our passage through the tunnel was booked well in advance, only three boats in each direction are allowed on each of Monday, Wednesday and Friday. The tunnel is only partially lined, with many sections of natural rock very narrow and not entirely straight, in the middle an S bend where the tunnellers working from each end missed each other by 23 feet. We are met by our British Waterways chaperones, one for each boat to point out, as we progress though, where the hazards and tight spots are. The gauging stick comes out and Avon Rose’s vital statistics are checked to ensure she will fit in the profile of the tunnel. There are in fact four tunnels; two single and one double track railway tunnel as well as the canal tunnel, all joined by connecting side tunnels. One hour forty minutes of intense concentration from himself sees us through, pauses every so often for our man to report via intercom in a connecting tunnel our progress. Herself sitting in the cratch nursing a very nervous small dog probably saw more than himself who now knows all about tunnel vision; although he did get taken up into one of the disused railway tunnels for a look. In contrast to the canal tunnel, tall, cavernous, completely lined and dead straight, the small semicircle of light clearly visible at each end.

On emerging we have to wait until the next day to descend the first 21 locks to Slaithwaite. Chronic water shortages on this east side mean we have to be chaperoned down by the boys in blue, only one paddle being used to empty locks to ensure that water is not lost over bywashes in a sudden surge of an emptying lock. Sunday and we take a rest day and enjoy the friendship of the folk of the parish church of Saint James.

And so the descent of the final 21 locks and the remarks recorded at the beginning of this posting. Here we are in Huddersfield and on the Huddersfield Broad Canal. Soon we will be on the Calder and Hebble Navigation and require a Calder and Hebble handspike to operate lock paddles, an item not dissimilar to capstan bars used on old sailing ships. “Most expensive piece of wood you’ll buy!” said the nice lady in the chandlery at Aspley Basin.

From Four Feet Away...........?

“From four foot way it looks great”, the Sage declared. ”If you want a perfect looking boat, don’t go boating.” You see, not only was it the wrong red but herself was not keen on the yellow either; the yellow coach lines on the cabin sides that is. Ivory is much better. So it’s back to Cut Signs for vinyl lining tape and semicircular corners. Problem is lining tape is uniform in width while hand painted lines are not, so we have a hint of yellow appearing around the new ivory lines, hence the Sage’s remarks; and he’s right. Looks fine viewed from 4 foot away and himself had to agree ivory looks better than the yellow, no matter how traditional yellow with green and red might be. Himself of course had a very self satisfied smile on his face, having just removed the last of the masking tape from his newly decorated cratch board, traditional diamond patterns. We have to agree it looks quite good.

And no, we haven’t spent the last two weeks beautifying our floating home, there has been some serious boating as evidenced by the remark of another Sage, “Look at all that lovely blacking you’ve been rubbing off!” Now waterways in cities we been through, Bath, Reading and Oxford have been teaming with boats, so it’s something of a surprise as we head northward through Leicester, a broad waterway with ornate bridges and canal side well furnished with mooring bollards to find………none. Well not quite, there were four on a secure pontoon mooring protected by a locked gate at Castle Gardens in the city centre. The anti-vandal locks on paddle gear and crude graffiti on all balance beams and bridge sides should, we suppose have given a clue. The pontoon was only 50 meters long and as evening was approaching we asked “Wandering Star” if we could moor alongside them (everyone else seemed to have disappeared into the city for the evening). We are of course now on the River Soar which like the Nene is susceptible to flooding and strong stream warnings after not much rain. Saturday night and we wander into the city centre and find a very pleasant bistro where unlike elsewhere we do not feel like Methuselah and his wife.

It’ Sunday morning and a hire boat has moved on so we can back up into the space they vacated. We attend Mass at Saint Mary de Castro close by where the local archdeacon preaches a “challenging “ sermon on the eve of an interregnum. This is sadly one of those inner city Anglo-Catholic parishes which in its introspection seems to have lost its way and appears to be dying on its feet. The sad thing is it needn’t be thus.

The River Soar to the north of Leicester passes through some lovely country and its noticeable how the density of boats rapidly increases the further we get from the city. This is the posh side of town. Flood locks installed to control water flows all have gates at both ends open so we sail straight through and water level markers on the exit from other locks are all well in the green zone.

An overnight stop in Loughborough to replenish supplies and utilize a convenient launderette. Our Zanusi studio washing machine is fine for everyday things but when it comes to the bed linen its more convenient to take everything we have to a launderette and get it dried all in one go!

And then we reach the vast width of the mighty Trent, water we have cruised before on the occasion, some years ago, when we famously went to a baptism in Nottingham by boat. Derewent Mouth and we are back on the cut, our old friend the Trent and Mersey which we have travelled before from end to end. At this end Shardlow is a canal historian’s delight. Once a centre of canal activity it has retained many of canal side warehouses from the days of the corn trade. Once we reach Burton (another town that appears to largely ignore its canal) we are back to narrow gauge locks and easier work for the boatman. The weekend again and this time in the lovely village of Alrewas,a favourite stopping point when we had a share in Scimitar and were based up the cut at Fradley junction. No ringing, work being done on the tower but once more the delight of an inspiring natural preacher, no notes, Just stand and tell it out. By chance it’s Alrewas’s “Open Gardens” weekend.

Now if you have one specimen tree in your garden we have found the one it needs to be. As we continue our northward journey we pause at Great Haywood at the junction of the T & M and the Staffs & Worcs, mooring opposite Shugborough Hall now in the care of the National Trust. The weather is delightful so herself decides a visit to the gardens is a must, dogs on leads are allowed so off we set. (We have visited the house on previous visits). We turn the corner and there is this amazing sight. A large shrub some 12 to 15 feet high covered (and I mean covered) in what appear to be four white flowers about two inches across with four petals, those on the top showing an amazing reddish pink flush. Closer inspection shows the petals are in fact bracts and the actual flower is small and green at the centre of these. We walk on, see the gardener and as himself approaches him he (the gardener) declares “Cornus kousa var. chinensis, Chinese Dogwood.” We are obviously not the first to ask. This is Jo Hawkes, 18 years as gardener at Shugborough. Apparently the flowers appear in May. As the season progresses they take on this pink flush. The fruit then appears, which is red and strawberry like followed by spectacular red autumn leaves. In Rugby himself had wiled away the hours chatting to Leaping Frog (you tend to know people by the name of their boat) who had been extolling he joys of National Trust volunteer working parties. Jo encourages to think about mooring up as we pass on our travels and spending a couple of days gardening with him. It’s tempting.

The weather has been glorious. We progress onto Stone, another favourite stopping point and thence on through the Harecastle tunnel (a 40 minutes passage).Then a left and a right to get us on the the Macclesfield ,another favourite canal with elegant stone bridges and rolling pastoral scenes as we head towards the Peak Forest national park. Now the weather has changed and we have frequent rain showers. This is none of your woosey southern rain. This is the stuff rodents asphyxiate in (come on; think about it). Himself on the back in the hatches, umbrella up, back doors closed behind him still getting soaked by the spray. You don’t have to ask were she is!

It's the Wrong Pitch

Now all you cricket, rugby and football fans may rabbit on about the state of pitches but for the serious boater if we are talking pitches we are talking propellers. Pitch is the theoretical distance in inches that one complete revolution of the propeller will move the boat through the water. Sizes of propellers are designated by diameter and pitch. The combination of boat length/weight, engine and gearbox determines the ideal propeller. Now after we had the Perkins replaced with the new Isuzu engine things were different. Just put her into gear and she surges forward. It's like driving your car in top gear all the time. With the engine just at tick-over she's off like a rocket - well a 2mph rocket to be precise. Which was manageable but not ideal, coming in to moor and following other boats could at times be...... interesting? So himself gets smurfing on the internet and declares,"It's the wrong pitch!" Herself looks at him blankly; “What is he on about now?”

Well, those who have been paying attention will now see the connection with where we left our story. Boat coming out of the water for blacking, let’s get the propeller looked at. The received wisdom is that the ideal for our current set up is an 18 inch with a 14 inch pitch and it turns out what we have is a 19 inch by 19 inch. So off we trot, old prop in hand, to see the nice man at Midland Chandlers down the cut to see if we can do a trade. “Haven’t got an 18 by 14 in stock; can’t get one till the middle of next week.”
“Anything second hand?” A search out the back and a 19 by 13 is found. “We’ll take it.” A hundred pounds for our old prop and we have a deal. And on re-launch? Fantastic, just as it should be, drives us well through the water and glide nicely at tick over.
To get us out of the water, two trolleys running on rails in the slip way were let down into the canal and the boat floated onto them. A JCB then pulls us up the slipway, a set of stairs is placed alongside the bows and we live in a house in the clouds, an interesting experience. As the centre of the boat is now unsupported it’s like walking on a scaffold plank. The steel flexes a bit and sitting in my chair as herself walks past I perceptibly bounce up and down ever so slightly; very odd.

Pressure wash and two coats of Premium Protection, lovely. Nice sunny weather, the perfect time for us to tidy up the rest of the paintwork on the hull, the red and white flashes on the stern and the bow decoration. Also very convenient for installing the new bow and stern fenders that we bought from Fenderman in Bath and that have until now been stacked in the cockpit. Herself has always said, “That red is too red!” A somewhat darker tone was thus also applied to bow , cratch board, cabin front and the counter. We have to say she is a very smart looking boat.

With one thing and another there has been a lot of hanging about of late. It’s time to do some boating. We head back to Rugby to meet some old friends as they start a week’s holiday on a hire boat from Viking Marine. It was lovely to see them and catch up with all the family news. With old friends you just seem to pick up where you left off, almost as though you had never been apart. So back to Braunston for church on Sunday and then the two boats, Harald and Avon Rose, work up the Braunston flight as we head for the Leicester Arm of the Grand Union Canal and Foxton Locks, the busiest piece of waterway on the system.

A pleasant interlude but not without incident. Himself at the tiller guiding the boat gently towards the bank to moor above bridge 60. Herself walking confidently along the tow-path side gunwale towards the bow where she bends down and disappears from his view to pick up the bow rope he assumes. A pause....... was that the sound of a large fish leaping ? He leans over to peer over the side to espy herself doing a very elegant back-stoke towards the stern! She had no idea how she got there; perhaps the nice glass of white wine had something to do with it? A rapidly removed mobile phone battery, careful drying and a night in the airing cupboard and thankfully her phone is still OK but unfortunately another pair of glasses sacrificed to the water nymphs abiding in the silt of the cut! Thank goodness for a spare pair, she’s hopeless without them. All is forgotten with a good meal in the Boat Inn.

Next day we say goodbye to our friends as they start on the return journey to Rugby. We have to wait for an hour for our turn to head down the two sets of five staircase locks, the place heaving with school parties learning about the waterways. So on to the Market Harborough branch and a night at Market Harborough Wharf where we replenish supplies, make use of the Post Office and replenish our supply of reading material. At the Foxton Junction we turn northward towards Leicester, this is new water for us. Very rural, the canal seems to shun all signs of habitation. It’s back to broad locks again and we are told vandalism means paddle gear in the approaches to Leicester will be padlocked. Serious boating now as we aim for the Leeds and Liverpool.

Two Old Codgers

It is becoming increasingly obvious to us both, that bits break more easily and take longer to mend than they used to in young people of our age. Maybe it’s all this global warming; greater exposure to sunshine, like plastic is making us more brittle. Himself seems to have recovered from the back problem. It’s just that he has more permanently numb bits in his legs than he had before. The problem now is that the left thigh muscle has wasted a bit and needs building up. Poor old chap can’t get about as quickly as he used.

With the extra manual labour herself appears to have pulled an intercostal muscle so is very pleased that she is no longer required for blue jobs. Her mild allergy to wheat also seems to be manifesting itself in other ways. Such things ought not to happen to people of such tender years. I blame the government; they seem to be messing everything else up.

So here we are at Braunston, on the eve of the great bottom blacking adventure. Yes you are correct; it has taken us two weeks to travel all of 35 miles. Hilmorton locks successfully negotiated with no ill effects, although we did note that the boatman walked to the top gate to cross to close the bottom mitre gate rather than leap across from the closed one as he used. Perhaps he is learning the caution of age!

But we get ahead of ourselves; chronology never was our strong point. To the north of Rugby lies the lovely village of Brinklow. The Foss Way runs down through the village, although at this point it is today only a minor road and through the centre of the village merely a footpath across an open field where, along side it, rises an earthen mound, once the site of a castle, built to protect the Foss. The canal (the Northern Oxford) passes through a somewhat unstable cutting to the East of the village and thence turns eastward through All Oaks wood where Cathiron Lane from Brinklow runs alongside the canal for about a mile. A delightfully peaceful rural mooring just before the bend, where a picnic spot is conveniently served by a small car park beside the canal. Now the quick witted among you will have realised that canny boaters are not slow in taking advantage of such fortuitous circumstances and we rate ourselves amongst those. Once more we utilise the services of Enterprise Car Rentals, those lovely people who, as part f the service, will come and collect you and bring you back (by taxi this time) when you take out and return your hire car. And with special weekend offers, £55 for a four day hire over the Late May holiday weekend seemed very reasonable to us, especially as for that we got a 2009 Nissan Micra with all the bells and whistles (automatic lights and wipers, reversing sensors, climate control).

“Now,” you say “what are they up to now? What they want a car for this time?” Well the waterways savy will know that the late spring bank holiday is the time of the Crick boat show. Crick is only a few miles from Rugby on the Leicester arm of the Grand Union canal, which runs parallel to the Oxford. Crick is the major narrow boat show of the year, a great place to see the latest boats from all the major builders and suppliers of everything from stoves, to rope, to brass cleaner. The original plan had been to moor at Hilmorton and take the 15 minute bus ride to Crick, but at that stage himself was still only walking with the aid of his trusty laminated walking stick and expecting to walk from the village to the show site and then walk round the show all day was, shall we say, a little foolhardy. So, car hire, problem sorted.

One of the main reasons for going was to look at solar panels. Herself is very fond of using electricity but not so fond of the means of making it. On days when we are not going anywhere, we still need to run the engine for a couple of hours each day to recharge the domestic batteries; keeping the fridge freezer going being the major source of concern. “Can’t you turn that engine off yet?” comes the irritable cry from the armchair in the cratch (the noise has disturbed her mid afternoon snoozelet). So we are looking for a system that, in the summer months, will mean we don’t have to run the engine. And success, the lovely Simon from “Run by the Sun Ltd” has an ideal twin panel 120 watt system to suit our needs, which with the show discount we get a better deal than we have seen elsewhere. Himself will have to find something else to spend hours of surfing to research.....”What you looking at now?!?!!!!”, her dulcet tones drift shrilly across the quiet evening air.

There has also been some creativity in this interlude. Himself has been indulging in a bit of primitive art and done a bit of decoration on the Buckby can, which can now sit proudly on the roof, full of water, ready to water the flower and herb tubs on the roof. With some trepidation, an afternoon with wet and dry paper, we have erased the previous owners name from the starboard cabin side and, using a stencil prepared for us by “Cut-Signs” we have emblazoned our own name. We decided to use stencils rather than just getting vinyl lettering so we could match the colours of the original. We have to say that our colour mixing skills are not bad and the result is very passable. Now for the other side............

Inactivity...........................???

“You still doing all the work?”
“Yes,” she says, raising eyes to heaven.
“You need to trade him in for a newer model.” Such is the advice of chattering classes on the towpath.
“I’m in me prime,” he wails “It’s only a temporary dysfunction. I’m not ready for the knacker’s yard yet!”
“I’m fed up with you being useless.”
“Shut up; or I’ll poke you with me stick!”

Such outbursts would never, of course, ever be heard in tranquil environs of the Avon Rose. Herself stoically soldiers on. Blue Jobs, Pink jobs, she takes them all in her stride; calling on the nursing skills of the past (himself rather enjoyed the bed bath). She’s the heroine of the cut.

[A note to the uninitiated: In certain households jobs are defined as blue, pink or purple on the lines of gender. On the cut dealing with sanitary arrangements, fetching and carrying (donkey work) things mechanical, tricky navigational manoeuvres and suchlike are definitely blue!]

As you can gather from the above, the problem with his back has been a bit more severe than he has had for many a year. Sitting is OK, the problem has been in standing, walking and laying flat. But slowly, slowly he continues to improve and has at last had a full night’s sleep. He’s at that dangerous point again, when you start to think you are nearly OK and one careless move can lead to a serious setback.

So in the four weeks since we arrived at the head of the Ashby, there may not have been much boating but it has not been without activity (herself says, ”What do you mean? It’s been all go for goodness sake.”) He was able to sit and drive, so a hire car and a visit to family was still possible. Enterprise Car Hire is brilliant for boaters as they will come and pick you up and take you to their depot to get your car. The deck furniture (boat hook, poles, gang plank and cradle) were all looking sad and weathered so another sitting down job and he has refurbished them in the house colours. We indulge in Sunday Lunch at the Globe, the lovely landlady (“How’s his back”) reserves us a table in the lounge so himself doesn’t have to negotiate the stairs down into the dining room. We’ve had a flying visit from intrepid biker friends, as they pass by on their way to a rally in Wales.

All being well, we should be on the move again sometime after the weekend for a very leisurely cruise back to Braunston for our scheduled bottom blacking!

A Tale of Aerials and Osteothingies

There is, we are discovering, a natural rhythm to this boating life. Periods of intense boating activity are interspersed with periods of staying put and mixing with them "English" (You need to be a lover of Harrison Ford's film "Witness" to get the derivation of this boating term . The discerning reader will,of course, also have noted that that the phrase "staying put" is not in any way connected with a phrase denoting "inactivity". Well at least, not while you have a Granny on board!

While speaking of the more mature woman, it is interesting to note how you can bring immense pleasure to her life by the mere purchase of a shiny six foot aluminium pole and a brass deck socket. "What is the old fool on about now!" you cry. Well if a boatman is to get a bit of piece and quiet in the day, herself needs to be provided with her daily dose of "Countdown" each afternoon at four (together of course with tea and cake). (As an aside, herself has declared that the girl Rachael is every bit as good as the Voordman with the numbers -the wardrobe is visibly smaller. If you are not a watcher of Countdown this will mean nothing to you and all we can say is............... "Get a Life!") To continue..... if this can be provided the Boatman is guaranteed some peace and quiet; provided that is the snores are coming in on his deaf side - the mature woman has perfected the art of "dropping off" in the afternoon. "And where is all this leading," you ask. Well you see it all comes down to TV reception and with all this moving about to frequent retuning.

Now if you want to ensure good reception a chap would say, "Buy the biggest aerial you can get. Look at this. Marvelous; 56 element job suitable for weak signal areas. Sorted". But the female mind does not work this way. She can't be doing with all that iron mongery on top of the boat. Makes it look untidy. Gets convinced by the man in the chandlery that this neat little Avtex job with built in signal booster powered from the aerial socket on the TV (5 volts) is the answer to a girl's dreams. In practice though, stuck to the boat roof with the very neat little suction mast it come with it's, we have to say, rubbish. His giant array of coat-hangers does the business. Which is where the shiny, six foot, aluminium pole and brass deck socket come in. She is convinced that the neat little job needs to be up higher and so the Braunston Chandlery provides the pole and we have to say,in our present resting place, at the top of the Ashby Canal, at Snarestone,........ she is right. There it sits, some 10 to 12 feet above the surface of the canal and we have good reception, digital channels and all.Countdown viewing assured. We wait with bated breath to see how it performs elsewhere. But,.............. he has also got a universal clamp so the array of coat-hangers can be rousted out and fitted to the pole in case of need. Nothing is going to get in the way of his afternoon peace and quiet.

People appear to either love or hate the Ashby Canal. This is rural, meandering, lock free boating. In places narrow, often shallow, no place for boy racers. No great industrial architecture of bygone ages either. Small settlements along its course. A coal canal, with, in its day some 28 pits of the South Derbyshire coalfield. Views over open fields with neatly trimmed, sloping sided hedges. This is hunting country. The Bosworth battlefield site and centre where the 32 year old Richard III met his end in Kings Field next to the canal. Well actually, probably not. The pleasant walks up Ambion Hill it seems do not look out over the battlefield site. Recent research and field archaeology appears to show that it was about a mile away. Still a good walk though and an interesting afternoon's visit. And for the steam enthusiast the restored Battlefield line Shenton station.

Since our last visit in October the number 7 bus now goes every hour and a half instead of every hour from Snarestone to Ashby. Which is where the Osteothingie comes in. You may recall from the last post stories of dodgy backs and grimacing. Well to cut a long story short, he who smugly declares that he has learned to manage his back problems will one day eat humble pie. And he has, by the bucket. Icing regimes, gel packs, sacro-iliac joints, nerve roots, inflamtion, analgesia and non-steroidal anti-inflammatory compounds all come in there somewhere. Lets just say he can now stand up straight (just) and may well be sleeping in a bed again tonight,emphasis on sleep.

On a more cheerful note we have re-aquainted ourselves with the delights of the Globe Inn by the moorings here, great Sunday Lunch (not served on tea plates), nice beer. As an interesting postscript, we left here in October to travel to Bath for the winter. It took us three weeks. From leaving Bath the return has taken us three months!

What's all that stuff about old dogs and new tricks?

Spring is definitely here. Canal side is ablaze with yellow celandine. First the willow and then the hawthorn buds burst. The world is turning green. Flowering cherry in gardens and trees along the cut are all blooming. We've had some glorious sunny days and now the fire is only lit in the late evening or early morning when herself decides "I'm cold!".

Our big dog, Micah, a lurcher of a beautiful golden hue, now well peppered with the white of age is a dog of somewhat aristocratic demeanour. A dog not known for rapid response. "Do I have to? Oh well if I must I suppose I will." A dog of somewhat Eeyorish temperament. "Don't worry about me. I'll be all right in this cold damp corner." But not for long. Himself gets up to make the morning tea. Where is big dog? You can't miss him. Curled in his bed which he has dragged right in front of the fire! couldn't get it any closer. If it had been any closer he would have been in the fire! Like herself, he doesn't like to be cold.

After the Kennet, the Thames was a pussy cat. Beautiful countryside, beautiful houses but definitely the habitat for GRP river cruisers. After a night at a lock landing stage at Days Lock for lack of suitable narrowboat mooring we continue north to Abingdon, one place on the Thames with plenty of moorings for narrowboats. The Thai Orchid was excellent as we spend a couple of days and manage to ring at St Helen's before we continue up to Oxford, dodging scullers and eights all the way. Up past Oxford and into Dukes cut to be back in paradise, .... a narrow gauge canal.

The weather is not as good with windy dull mornings and threats of rain. Afternoons are glorious though and on one such we arrive in the centre of Banbury on a Friday afternoon. Banbury a town that embraces it's canal with the great Castle Quay moorings right next to the shopping centre;...... dangerous! Friday evening and a return visit to Fabio's, best Italian restaurant in the district. Palm Sunday Service in the baroque church is good, although dodgy back prevents a trip up the tower. Monday night at Claydon and friends drive over to join us for an evening meal. Napton locks and we descend from the summit to Napton junction and so along the Grand Union to Braunston to spend Maundy Thursday and Good Friday with the good folk at All Saints there.

Now he's got a new toy. Waterway, a GPS system for inland waterways. "What you want a Satnav for canals for? there's only one way you can go!" Women just don't understand do they. Now Mike Kelly the man behind the program lives in Braunston and so himself drops in for a chat. Need a doctor, dentist, pub, laundrette? All this stuff is available as POI's (points of interest) on the map. As Mike's wife explains, the program had its conception the time they were out in the middle of nowhere and she has a husband in agony, needing medical attention and she has no idea where they are. The program has all the text from the Nicholson's canal guides incorporated. The advantage over printed guides being that as users email in corrections and new info it is updated very quickly. Updates appear every couple of weeks for download from the website. After pointing him to the Dove download, 4,000 towers with rings of bells (including practice nights) have now been added. It also has lots of caravan/camp sites next to waterways so we can point friends to places they can come and see us for a weekend in the camping season. Route planning with distances and expected cruising times, together with measuring tools complete the suite. Have a look at http://eureauweb.com/eewnew/

From Braunston we've moved on to Rugby and the mooring next to Mr Tesco. Easter Sunday and a half hour walk into the centre of town and the church of S Andrew; unique in that it has two rings of bells. The old church was rebuilt in the 1850's but the medieval tower with its 9cwt ring of five bells was retained. Then in the 1890's a much more impressive tower and spire where added on the NE corner of the church and a 24cwt ring of eight bells was installed. On the first Monday and second Sunday of the month they ring the five and on the others the eight. So here we are, Easter Sunday, second Sunday of April and join in ringing the five (ring from 9.45 to start of service at 10.30). "Nice to ring on a number of bells I feel comfortable with," she says. She's suffering from eight and ten bell overload although she can stand up to Grandsire and Stedman triples with some confidence. The local Met Office forecast has let us down for the first time. The promised sunshine hasn't materialised. Tomorrow we continue north towards Ashby.

And so dear reader, our story is up to date. From now we trust we will manage to keep posting in a more timely fashion.