A Waxing Gibbous Moon

The Trent at Wychnor

Morning All

I don't know if I can follow the writings of that crazy genius that I am married to. Will you find my witterings pale and insipid after his glorious technicolour rantings? He never ceases to surprise me and it started twenty years ago when he proposed to me over breakfast one morning. He didn't go down on one knee or anything soppy like that, it came out as a kind of casual remark between 'Pass the marmalade' and 'Would you like more tea?' 'Shall we get married then?' he said. I was so shocked, my rollers nearly fell out (yes, I was sitting down to breakfast with rollers in my hair, a bit Ena Sharples I know.) As I jumped up to seal the deal with my freshly scrubbed morning face and crumby lips, the radio started playing that funny song about mice living in a windmill in Old Amsterdam which made us both laugh. He promised me that I'd never be bored and I'm happy to say he's kept his word.

Panels up and covers flung off

It's been a funny old year, who expects the sun to shine for a whole month in England in the summer! I'm happy to say that it's cool and overcast here today in Wychnor, perfect conditions for Carl to finish painting the other side of the boat. This cooler morning is very refreshing after so much hot sun although I've seen the forecast and I'm expecting to be able to fry eggs on the roof later. When we packed up for home and left the boat on her home mooring, the summer had only just begun and there was a luscious greenness everywhere. Six weeks of blazing sunshine later and the hot sun has dried the colour out of the grass and tinged the leaves with the first hints of autumnal brown. So very different from our departure last March when the river was a raging torrent and the weather was icy (remember the Beast from the East). Today, the water is calm and clear, and in the hedges by the boat, the first of this season's blackberries are tempting me to collect them. I tried one or two but it's much too hot for a crumble and they are still too sour for casual grazing.

Tricky is very happy to be back aboard and she settled straight into her bed for a snooze as soon as we arrived back and has pretty much remained there ever since as if being ashore has completely worn her out. She likes nothing more than to sit out on the towpath in the late evening gazing at the Gibbous Moon (I found that expression on the weather app - I thought it was worth sharing with you) and I have to say that we feel the same, there is something very calming about living afloat.

During this hot weather, we often leave the cratch covers up at night, to allow the cooler air in through the door vents. When we let Tricky out first thing in the morning, she normally has to wait for the covers to be rolled up on the bank side, which is an annoying inconvenience for a little doggie with her legs crossed. On Friday morning, she hopped up the steps to find the covers already up, so she gathered her little legs under her to leap ashore. I followed behind her and just as I noticed she'd chosen the wrong side and was going to end up in the drink, she took off. 'Nooooooooo' I cried in dismay. Somehow Tricky did an emergency stop in mid air, with all four legs off the floor, and managed to scramble back inside the boat. I'm still smiling to myself at the look of utter disgust she gave me as if it was all my fault.

View up the river towards Alrewas

We love that moment when we catch the first glimpse of our boat as we unload the car and breath a sigh of relief to be home. Not that we don't love you all very much but the Lady Aberlour is our very favourite place to be and every time we set off on her, we feel very lucky to be back aboard and off on a new adventure. True, she was looking a little sorry for herself, everything inside and out was covered in a layer of dust and we could hardly see out of the windows. We unloaded our bags and got the fridge going and then Carl turned the key and the engine struck up and burbled away, ready for the off. Carl and Tricky chugged away leaving me behind to hide the car in a hedge somewhere. I drove to a suitable spot and walked to the bus stop to find that I'd just missed one bus and had to wait 90 minutes for the next. It wasn't too stressful – there was a shady cafe close by and I settled down with my mango smoothie to read a Towpath News from cover to cover – always a treat. The bus arrived and we set off, just myself and two other pensioners aboard so I settled on the back seat where I could get out of the sun and take advantage of any breeze as we rattled along the country roads. Then all hell broke lose - the bus stopped and a rampage of secondary school pupils swarmed aboard bring noise and chaos with them. I immediately vacated my back seat and hustled into a safer seat at the front with the other pensioners. The well behaved kids sat downstairs - mostly studious young ladies with expensive designer bags and equally expensive IPhones. The rascally ones went upstairs - mostly boys who looked like they could all grow a moustache and ought to be out at work. Upstairs, they thundered up and down the bus causing it to roll from side to side, screaming and calling out to passers-by as we went along. Several water bombs were thrown from the top windows, one scoring a direct hit through an open car window as it pulled alongside us at the traffic lights. Us three pensioners were buffeted from all sides by carelessly slung rucksacks and we exchanged eye rolls and head shakes at the 'Youff of today'. I turned up my headphones into the red zone and drowned out their racket with Larkin Poe until I could escape and find Carl, Tricky and the Lady Aberlour moored by a bridge waiting for me. Its good to be back.

I hope you are all keeping cool, do keep us up to date with happenings in the real world and I'll write more next week

Love from

The Floating Chandlers


PS A flock of homing pigeons circled the boat and tried to land on the roof. Carl wasn't impressed and shooed them off. They circled again and flew along the river dipping their feet into the water as if water skiing, then took off again. Strange behaviour – any pigeon fanciers out there who know what that was all about?

PPS a Waxing Gibbous Moon - what an absolutely glorious expression. I shall be out moon watching later - these summer evenings are perfect for contemplating the skies even if I do sometimes mistake an incoming Easy Jet out of East Midlands for Venus.

PPS Larkin Poe – singing sisters who rock!!

Waxing Gibbous Moon (photo from Google)