Bratch Locks
Hello again Jotters
It’s a wet Sunday afternoon so what else would I do but dash off a few lines to you, my loyal readers. It’s been a dawdling along sort of week - from the tranquility of an overnight mooring by the church at Acton Trussell to the much busier towpath mooring around Penkridge. On towards Autherly Junction with the M6 roaring alongside, brushing by Wolverhampton and reaching Bratch on Friday evening. From here the canal descends through wooded, rocky cuttings to Stourport on the banks of the River Severn. The whole canal, from Great Haywood to Stourport, is 46 miles and 43 locks long and there is time between locks to boil the kettle for a brew. There is nothing we like more than watching the seasons unravel around us while we chug along with a mug of Twinings finest and ‘Popmaster’ on the radio.
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| Lunch in Littleton Arms |
Tuesday was my actual birthday and, considering I live on a boat without a postal address, I had lots of cards and presents to open. To make the day extra special, Elaine, Jean and Eric arrived with a special delivery of birthday apple cake (delicious as always Jean-Bean) and we dined in style at the Littleton Arms. Now the party is really over and I am officially an Ancient Mariner!
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| Sisters |
Thank goodness for the cooler weather, not quite time for boots and coats yet but the the early mornings are dewy and fragrant with rain. The mangy old cratch cover won’t keep out even the lightest of showers now and we are still banking on getting it replaced in Kinver. We said we would be arriving in July, and, even by boating standards, we are late so I’m hoping they can fit us in. Now that the outside of the boat is looking so smart, there is much to do inside. The carpet in the living quarters has a doggy aroma that I can no longer hide with a joss stick. I lost my sense of smell when I had Covid and have been living in blissful ignorance of the smells that are usually associated with boating. It’s a smell that you never forget, diesel and loo blue with a trace of last nights supper. Luckily, we have lots of doors and hatches and can get a good airflow through the boat as we chug along. I had freesias for my birthday and they have been gorgeous, I’m so glad I could enjoy their perfume.
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| Botttom Lock at Bratch |
Does anyone else have a phone that makes a film of their photo and puts it to music? I opened my phone to find a message from google saying that had a ‘Memory’ for me and up popped a selection of my best photos entitled Summer 2022 set to a little tune. I’m sure the young people (that’s most of you I expect) will know all about it and I have seen it before but it did make me smile to see them pulled together without any help from me. It’s magic!
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| Watering Up at Greensforge |
Wednesday is market day in Penkridge, usually a favourite of ours and we set off into town with Tricky, for once, trotting smartly along with us. It’s a narrow towpath in places below Penkridge Lock and we met a group of anglers pushing their tackle in big barrows which took up most of the width, forcing us and other pedestrians into the nettles. It was a terrible place to go fishing, they set up in between moored boats and I could hear them grumbling because boats were moored where they wanted to be. I’m not sure what the answer is. I sympathise with the anglers, but it did seem a daft idea to have their meeting on a market day when more boats than usual moor up. I was disappointed with the market, there wasn’t the usual variety and hardly any selling fruit and veg. We were looking for Vic plums but none to be had. The fruit shop in Penkridge was on our way back so we filled the rucksack and were soon back home and setting off up the locks towards Gailey. It was nice to leave the motorway behind us and we settled on a spot just through Long Moll’s Bridge. I wonder who Long Moll was?
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| Garden Ornament |
We paused briefly at Autherley Junction, mainly for Tricky’s benefit and to drop off yet more rubbish. We will miss our trip down the Shroppie this year, we would normally be chugging up towards Nantwich for the last breath of summer and to enjoy the glorious autumn colours but wherever we are, the leaves will fall from the trees to cling in sodden lumps to our prop and Captain Carl will chunter and engage hard reverse to spin them off. The daylight is fading already and the rain, which cleared up for a time, is now pattering on the roof again. There is a batch of pasta sauce bubbling on the hob ready for tomorrow’s Spag Bol and Tricky has finally stopped doing her Oliver Twist impression and settled into her bed. I changed her dog food to Lily's Kitchen, outrageously expensive and ludicrously appetising. It smells good enough to eat - not that I would, being practically a vege/pescatarian! My Mum reminds me every year, on my birthday, that she was skinning a rabbit the day I was born. (Horrified face emoji)
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| Canalside Garden |
The locks at Bratch are always a favourite with us and there was a very helpful volunteer lock-keeper on duty to help us down the 3 lock flight. I’m normally working the locks alongside the lock-keepers but he insisted on doing the last lot of paddles and gates for me so I had a ‘ride’ to the bottom. It was a chance to take some photos from the stern deck and I think they came out OK. We moored in Swindon (Staffordshire not Wiltshire) last night and our neighbour in front had a radio on rather loudly, all evening. We could have moved but it was almost tea time when we moored up and I had my heart set on a ‘chippy’ tea. Mr Smith’s famous fish and chip shop is just along the road and we couldn’t let the opportunity of battered chips pass us by. I don’t think I’ve had battered chips anywhere else - they are delicious. Crispy on the outside and fluffy on the inside - perfect. The radio played all night but we were lulled by the patter of raindrops on the roof and slept like babies.
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| Teasels |
Today, we had a very short cruise to Greensford to the services and then down the lock to moor up by the Ashwood Marina. We’ve managed a walk to Rocky Lock between the showers and collected some nice dry firewood ready for the cooler evenings. Carl is keeping me topped up with cups of tea while I tap away on the keyboard and I have a Countryfile and Antiques Roadshow to look forward to later. It’s a simple life here aboard the Lady Aberlour.
We send our love as always and I’ll write again when I can
Love from
The Floating Chandlers
Bratch Top Lock
PS. Carl was doing a horrible job which involved getting right into the weed hatch and scraping off the rust. Somehow, the windlass, which lives on a hook on the stern deck, fell off its perch and smacked Carl on the nose, right between his eyes. He’s going to have a right pair of shiners I think and I’m going to look like a husband beater!!
I'm pleased to see you have graduated into the motion picture business x
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