Moody Dog versus Batman and the Flies

After the rain

Morning All

We'd made it to Gnosall (apparently pronounced 'knows all') by last Monday afternoon. Tricky had been having 'women's problems' for a few days, so we'd made an appointment with a local vet. After an examination, she confirmed our suspicions and prescribed some HRT tablets. I'm happy to report that her violent mood swings are settling down, and Tricky is also improving.

We liked Gnosall so much that we stayed there the next day and caught a bus into Newport for a taste of the bright lights. The bus fare was £6.10 for a return ticket, or £2.70 for a single. Damned clever, these ticket price planners.

On arrival we popped into B&M for some paint brushes, frog tape and other bits and bobs for the ongoing battle with the paintwork. While queueing at the checkout, where the lady was changing the till roll, I watched some customers in a longer queue at the self service tills. Here, a harassed young shop assistant was jogging hither and thither, sorting out unexpected items in the bagging area.

In another shop window there was a poster advertising a new brand of shampoo. Apparently, so the poster told us, 90% of one person agreed that the shampoo was so mild that, no matter how many times you used it, your hair still remained dirty.

From Gnosall we had a pleasant little cruise to Norbury Junction, where we tied up late on Wednesday morning. Our mooring was plagued by noisy generators and excessive engine runners so we moved to the other side of the bridge, which proved to be much more peaceful. A pleasant evening followed in the Junction Inn, where we were treated to dinner by Claire, Jess and Reece, who live close by.

The next day found us wending our way to Shebdon Embankment, where there were impressive views westward towards Wales. Just the sort of place to settle down with a good book, a comfy chair and a cup of tea. So that's what we did. The weather was still being kind, with warm, sunny intervals and winds light to variable. The first of the 'nuisance' flies appeared in our boat this day.

We left Shebden Embankment early on Friday morning, our boat moving through misty waters, with shafts of morning sun playing on the still waters of the canal. The approaching clouds were threatening rain, so we decided to moor up earlier than we had planned. We chose a spot near to Woodseaves Cutting. The ground here was very soft and boggy, and finding a firm spot to hammer the mooring stakes into was problematic. However, tenacity won through in the end. Our weather observations were correct, and within the hour the rain was hammering down. That set the scene for the rest of the morning, with many prolonged, heavy bursts of rain.

That afternoon, the clouds cleared and the sun came out and I was forced to enact the great 'Battle of the Flies'. The little blighters had invaded our boat and were, frankly, taking liberties. Our in-house spiders were cowering in a corner, clearly out of their depth. While Linda and Tricky were outside enjoying the sunshine, I stalked to the end of the boat and unlocked the fly swatter cabinet. I chose the Webley Hawk MK2 super-swat with extra zing. Then Zap! Swish! Bam! Just like an episode from that wonderful sixties series Batman, I pranced up and down the boat, flailing the swatter like a whirling dervish. The battle raged back and forth. Eventually, gasping for breath, I managed to get one of them. Perseverance was the name of the game though, and eventually they were overwhelmed.

We had a flight of locks coming up the next day. These are the Tyrley locks, just after the Woodseaves Cutting. As the cutting is seriously narrow, and goes on for quite a distance, we wanted an early start the next day, to lessen the chance of meeting anything coming the other way. We weren't the only ones with this idea, hence we were woken at six-thirty the next morning by a boat chugging by us. By the time we were ready to cast off, a second boat went by. We untied then and got under way, creeping through the dripping trees and spotted a Kingfisher as a reward for our early start. We met no boats in the cutting, and got to the first lock to find a bit of a queue. One boat was coming up, and the boat in front of us, was waiting at the lock to go in. The boat coming up left the lock and drifted slowly by us. The man at the tiller was beaming all over his face, and waved happily as he went by. He shouted something to us, which sounded like "Hi! My name is Mr Ahab, and I'm having a whale of a time". (Note from Linda – he just said 'Good Morning-nice day' – Carl can't hear a thing over the engine noise!)

Descending the locks was a slow business but it was a nice morning, the sun was warm and we weren't in any hurry. It wasn't long before another boat caught us up, it's crew filling and emptying locks as if it was some sort of race. Before long they were treading on our heels. As we waited for our next lock to be ready, they seemed to think that we should somehow magically get our twenty-odd tons of fifty seven foot narrowboat into a half empty lock with all the gates closed, so that we wouldn't be in their way. We haven't met many dolts on our travels, but this one really was a nincompoop, with a hint of prat thrown in. We left them behind after the last lock and, as a bonus, enjoyed a particularly pleasant cruise into Market Drayton, where we stopped for the weekend.

That's my lot this week, dear reader, so adios for now.

Best wishes from

The Floating Chandlers

PS And now it's time for a correction. A couple of weeks ago I wrote that I'd turned the boat hard to starboard to get onto the Staffs & Worcester canal. Of course, I should have typed "hard to port". In my defence I had been up all night shaving, due to the full moon, so I was really tired.

PPS Tricky wagged her tail twice this week - the HRT is working!

Famous landmark on the Shroppie

Boat Inn at Gnosall

Sunny morning leaving Gnosall

Another grumpy dog - what a sad face!

Jess had to be persuaded to have a photo taken

Reece was hungry

Last chance for the sun hat

Land Rover doing a spot of bird watching

The Anchor

Views towards Wales

Cheeky squirrel

View from the Shebdon Embankment

Harvest is in

Swan at Goldstone Wharf

Goldstone Wharf

Woodseaves Cutting

Shroppie high bridge

Tyrley Locks

Rocky cutting at the bottom of Tyrley Locks

He's always here and I can't resist another photo

Some Days Are Diamond

Shady Mooring in Wheaton Aston

Hello from the Floating Oven

The heatwave continues and Carl and I have abandoned our plan to boat to Gloucester in favour of a trip up the shady Shroppie. We've pottered along from one cool patch of shade to the next, sitting out on the towpath until the heat of the day slips away with the setting sun. The nights, thankfully, have been much cooler but still I've needed my USB fan which hangs from the overhead locker and hums away, lulling me to sleep.

We left Tixall Wide on a cool Monday morning and, once we'd got through the lock, Carl left me on the tiller while he made the coffee. Standing at the tiller on a summers morning, watching the swallows dipping and diving and a buzzard gliding effortlessly across the valley, is balm for the soul. I have to confess that sometimes, even on my beloved boat, I wake up feeling a little Mondayish but an hour on the stern, watching the watery world go by, soon cures that! The coffee arrived and we floated along listening to the birdsong and trying to cheer Tricky up – she does seem to be terminally glum and it's a diamond day indeed when Tricky wags her tail! I handed back the tiller and went below to do battle with the washing machine and soon had my sheets in the bows, where they dried in a flash.

The high winds and heavy rain over the weekend had brought a tree down across the canal at Shutt Hill so nothing was coming towards us. It made a nice change not to meet a boat at every bridge! We were tempted to moor by the pub on Radford Bank and catch the bus into Stafford for shopping but decided that it would be too hot to leave the boat shut up with Tricky aboard so we chugged on and moored up by the Stafford Boat Club. We were waiting for a rush of oncoming boats which would let us know the way forward was clear again but time ticked on and nothing arrived. We consulted Mr Google for directions, deployed the rucksacks and set off up a track by the side of the Boat Club, heading for the Co-op and fresh milk. (I do hate it when you stagger out of bed, desperate for your morning brew, and the milk falls into your tea in a lump so you have to wait for the kettle to boil again.) We followed the footpath up and up through the trees, by a brook that should have been burbling but was struggling to do anything except make a murky puddle in the bottom of the dried up bed. At last, we came out in the middle of a housing estate and as we followed Mr Google maps around the outskirts, I noticed that there was a bus stop on every corner. I inspected the timetable wondering if I could catch a bus into Stafford from here. Sadly, the timetable was very brief - one bus in the morning and another in the afternoon and if it stopped at every stop around this large estate then you'd be an age getting anywhere! The Co-op was right next door to a pub, how very convenient for a convenience store! It was very tempting on a hot day after such a long walk up hill, but I settled for an ice lolly and saved my syns for a large G&T as a reward for mountaineering through the jungle for a couple of pints of semi-skimmed. We dawdled back down the hill, Tricky waddling along behind us, sniffing every blade of grass and walking slower and slower as if she was a clockwork dog winding down. A shower swooped along the canal as we crossed the bridge to the tow path, it ruffled the surface but was gone in a flash. Boats were travelling in both directions past our mooring by the time we got back so we gathered that the fallen tree had been removed. The sun was on the panels so we decided to call it a day and tackle the locks up to Penkridge before the sun got too hot the next day..

We arrived at Penkridge on Tuesday afternoon and moored below the lock, ready for the Market on Wednesday. We set out early and and bought enough cherries, plums and strawberries to keep us safe from the dreaded scurvy and Carl topped up his stores with paint brushes and 'Big Boy' filler. (That name makes me smile, so much more memorable than the other option called simply 'Repair Metal'.) Imagine ladies, if the same person was responsible for naming our lipsticks we'd be wearing 'Gob Wax' - sorry, was that a bit too strong for your delicate sensibilities? Please address all complaints to the Captain - he's used to them!

Our trip up the Shroppie this week has been blighted with noise - we're surrounded by engine runners, who wait till everyone is sitting outside, then strike up a stinking, noisy engine right next to you and run it for hours. Tonight it's a particularly hot one, over 30 degrees since about 3pm but we've kept cool sitting out under the trees with a nice breeze blowing – it would be a diamond day except for the flipping engine runner next door - he's been running for hours. I can't ask him to switch off as he's not on board - I expect he's in the pub! I'm plugged into my Apple Music again, listening to a favourite old album by John Denver - hence the title of this blog, did anyone recognise it? I think we may be about to embark on an evening cruise to escape the racket.

And we did! Of course, as soon as we struck up our engine, the engine runner switched off! Carl had the tiller between his teeth by now so we set off regardless, with Tricky on the hatch looking slightly less depressed than usual and a very happy Captain and crew. We arrived at our new mooring spot a few degrees cooler and our good humour restored. The sun is setting over the nearby farmyard and there's a beautiful red sky. I don't need a shepherd to tell me it's going to be another scorcher tomorrow - another diamond day, if we're lucky.

That's all from me for this week lovely Jotters - keep cool, drink plenty and when you're too hot to sleep try a cold hot water bottle - trust me, it really works. Wishing you lots of diamond days.

Love from

The Floating Chandlers

PS Met so many nice people this week, dog walkers, ramblers, holiday boaters and day boaters. The prize for the most memorable costume goes to an enthusiastic day boater dressed all in white - we're not sure if he was Top Gun or Max and Paddy, but he made us laugh as he stood to attention and saluted us from the bows of his tiny boat. 

PPS Moored by the holiday park in Brewood - normally a very quiet mooring.  The people opposite us were sitting outside their caravan singing along to an 80's play list, very loudly and very badly. They were having a diamond day - we were shining less brightly!

Hello Sailor

Sunflowers

Mile Post

Lovely Lolli 

More visitors

Sun on the panels

Sunset at Stafford Boat club

Narrows

Autherley Junction

Locking through at Autherley

Selfie

One for you Terry - where's this?

Gorgeous Garden

Evening Cruise

Pig Boat, Dongles and Dialects

Mac and Boots needed this morning

'Ow Do?

It's not my usual greeting I know but an old chap stuck his head out of his hatch today as we passed by and said ''Ow Do' which tickled me for some reason. It made me think about my working days when engineers would call up from their 'Patch' in the Northern wilds and the conversation might start with. 'Now then' or 'Ey Up!'  Nowadays, Carl and I still squabble about Bath or Barth and I remind him often that he's a Soft Southerner while I'm a Carrot Cruncher from the Flat Lands, which is why I can't walk up hills.  I'm rambling as usual, I'll get on with the Jottings before you all drop off.

The whole week can be summed up in three words - Hot, Hot, Hot and maybe a couple of Windy's too. When we left our shady mooring at Wychnor, the evenings had been pleasantly cool with a nice breeze blowing along the water. The ladies required a pashmina once the sun sank below the yard arm, or maybe it was the cooling effect of the ice in our Pink Gin that gave us the shivers. Later in the week, we came through Fradley and moored by Wood End Lock in the shade. As the temperature inside crept up towards 30 degrees again, we went outside and read until darkness fell - we longed for the cooling breeze from the river but what we got instead was an oven-like blast of wind covering us and the boat in a layer of dust and grit.

By Friday, we felt like a pair of limp lettuces and we longed for the storms that were forecast. The skies darkened, the wind howled but not a drop of rain fell and the temperature soared once more. We moved a few miles along the canal to Armitage and I left Carl and Tricky with all the doors and hatches open while I rattled off on the local bus into Lichfield. I camped out in the blissfully cool EE shop for a while, trying to get a new dongle to replace ours, which is trying to burst out of it's casing. I had money, I could see what I wanted but they couldn't sell me one without a contract which I didn't want. In the end, I left the nice young man to attend to the next grumpy pensioner - she was tapping her foot and looked ready to burst out of her casing too! I wandered into the icy-cold Smiths for a browse amongst the paper clips and bought sellotape and elastic bands to hold the dongle together until I can think of another solution. The pavements were steaming by now so I rattled off home listening to my latest download 'Imagine Dragons'. The boat was in the full sun by this time and even with the hopper windows out, there was no relief. When the sun finally set the heat hung on and the thermometer was still reading 28 degrees when we finally shut the doors at bedtime – not much chance of sleeping in that heat!

It was such a relief to feel cool, damp air on Saturday morning. We leapt out of bed and set off early, chugging through Rugeley without stopping and crossing the aqueduct over the Trent to get to the 'Pig Mooring'. This isn't a place to tie up your porker but a small-holding where the farmer has moored an old working boat by his pig pens. He sells diesel and Calor gas from the boat and we always try and fill up there when we pass by. It's a bit breezy across the fields there and mooring alongside the 'pig boat' on a windy day can cause the Captain and I to exchange raised voices. Today, all went well, mainly because I stayed below with my lips firmly zipped and we docked without a cross word. Once the tank was full and my purse relieved of my Old Age Pension, we chugged off towards Colwich Lock, drinking coffee and admiring the view over the Trent. I needed my woollie on as I worked us through the lock and the skies darkened as we motored on past Shugborough Hall, through Hayward Lock and turned sharp left onto the Staffs and Worcester and onward through Tixall Wide. There was just time to moor up before the heavy rain started. It was cosy in the cabin as the rain lashed down outside and we relished the cool and watched 'Groundhog Day' and fell into bed that night and slept deeply, what a relief!

On Sunday morning we walked back to the Farm Shop at Great Hayward and I needed socks on my feet! (No, of course I didn't wear them with my sandals although I did meet a man who had American Tan tights on under his shorts 🙄). On the return journey, ladened down with goodies from their deli counter, we stopped to admire 'Waimarie' moored on the water point by the cobbled bridge. The roof and tiller arm glittered with polished brass and I complimented the owner on his handiwork. The owner, a blunt Yorkshireman, told me he had much more brassware inside the boat and had won lots of prizes for 'Best Turned Out Boat, over the years. He was born on a narrowboat, skippered one of the last working boats and was very proud of his heritage. I could have chatted to him all day but he was next in the queue to water up and went off busily, unrolling his hose and scattering a crowd of gongoozlers that had gathered to watch.

Finally, Carl has usurped my role as 'Chief Jotter' and done his own version of this week's boating news. I feel duty bound to warn you that it contains his usual Pratchettesque nonsense and I'm not allowed to tamper with it! I hope you have a good week, the hot, sunny weather will be back soon so don't put your shorts away yet.

Lots of love
Linda


PS if you're wondering why I haven't mentioned the Kingfishers this year, it's because we haven't seen any and I'm very disappointed (sad face emoji)

PPS my favourite Lincolnshire word is 'Sqwad' – it means mud if you don't speak Yellar Belly

PPS Why is Carl so obsessed with pigeons?

Spinderella The Sink Spider

A picture blog from me this week and a whole new page devoted to the Captain's Rantings - click on the new tab above.

A nice bit of shade at Wood End

A field of gold

That steak is almost too heavy for the BBQ

Malc is the King of the BBQ

Masking Up

And relax...

Pashmina for Pat

Adios Amigos

Wychnor church

Good thing we're a narrow boat!

Some things are still green

Trent crossing to Alrewas

Thatched cottage

Captain Carl looking relaxed

Shade House Lock, Fradley

Nicely done Carl

Tricky looks a bit worried

Moon rising at Wood End

Mooning again

My morning commute

Chugging along towards Kings Bromley

That dog must have taken most of the tent!

Squeezing through the Armitage tunnel

Colwich Lock

Hayward Lock

A boat and butty - hotel boats

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)

Odd Creatures and Wildlife

Cheers!

I had a piece of quiche for tea the other night. The tomatoes were at twelve 'o'clock on my plate, the spring onions were at three 'o' clock and the quiche was at nine 'o' clock. There were other fully paid up members of the salad family nestling contentedly around the aforementioned items. Cheese was also involved. Please bear with me on this. When I was just a boy we used to call it egg and bacon flan. Very tasty, very sweet. During the intervening years (decades of them, all speeding faster and faster), egg and bacon flan became quiche and second hand became Pre-loved. Then there's Nestle which used to be pronounced “Nessuls” and what happened to Spangles? Especially the Olde English ones – everything's changing and I don't like it.

Moving on, I have to admit that we've done no boating for the last few weeks, so writing around one thousand words in a boating blog may prove somewhat tricky. Which brings me neatly around to our little dog, Tricky. Although she is really a border terrier, she must also be part Sad-Eyed Gimmefood, as demonstrated this morning when I ate my breakfast (boiled egg). She sat by my chair, begging with a cuteness that is hard to ignore. Walking her has been awkward lately, what with the hot weather and all. Early morning and late evening we go through the usual routine – I get the lead out and Tricky ignores me. I told her straight last night. “You're going for a walk, even if I have to carry you myself!” She really does need to lose weight as my arms were aching after five minutes.

We're still land lubbers at the moment, but I'll try to inject my wild, nonsensical ramblings with a hint of nauticulness where I can. We both miss the watery wildlife we see from our boat, although we do meet some non-wild people from time to time. Most of the hire boats we meet have non-wild people aboard; a lot from Britain, of course, but a surprising number from New Zealand, America and Holland. I'm sure people from other nations come here to boat as well, but these are the ones we seem to meet most of the time. One thing that I've noticed is that hire boaters from abroad are generally either chemists, engineers, or world class yachtsmen/women. This isn't always the case, though. While chatting to an overseas visitor in a lock on the Thames, who seemed very engineerish and looked like he could do really hard sums, I was rather taken aback when he told me that he was a retired emu caller. Maybe I misheard him. The thing is, though, most boaters we meet on the canals are really nice people, and will usually try to help anyone who is struggling. For example, we had a breakdown on our previous boat, “Moonshine”. We managed to get the boat into the side and tie up. A couple on a boat moored up a short way away, who didn't know us from Adam, came over and asked if they could do anything to help. They even offered to get us some shopping if we needed any supplies. This is very common with boaters - very nice people.

We are missing Lady Aberlour, but with this hot weather it would be extremely uncomfortable aboard, even with the cream roof. Speaking of which, I need to finish painting her. I've found that using a roller and then laying off with a soft brush really tickles Linda, but she doesn't mind. No, no, I'm only joking. I feel confident that I'll get our boat finished this year though. The downside of this lovely weather is that the dry spell could lead to a drop in water levels on the canal system. The Leeds and Liverpool canal from Wigan to Gargrave looks likely to close completely unless we get rain in the next three weeks and I'm sure there will soon be further restrictions if this dry weather continues – its 1976 all over again!

I mentioned wildlife a while back. I'll now return to this subject. We've been lucky enough to journey through some very remote, rural places. Places where there's nothing to be heard but the wind and birdsong. Pleasant, shady moorings, where the only sounds are the reed warblers across the water, a blackbird in the hedge behind, and a gentle breeze rustling the treetops. We've seen a weasel dancing just twenty yards from our boat at five in the morning (I jest not), a badger running across a narrow lane right by our feet, hares and hedgehogs, foxes and grass snakes. We've also seen a lone horse trotting along the tow-path and across a bridge, looking for all the world as though he was on his way to buy a loaf of bread and a pint of milk.

We've never seen the satanic leaf gecko, however. Nor have we seen a thunder cow, a heat seeking razor snail travelling at the speed of dark, a safety wasp, or a tyrannosaurus mouse. Believe it or not, one of the above does actually exist. While I'm droning on and trying not to dribble, here are a few more bizarre sounding creatures: tasseled wobbegong (carpet shark), sarcastic fringe head (a small, ferocious fish), sparklemuffin (a spider) and lastly the tufted titmouse (a small bird). I have deliberately not included the sabre toothed bomb-worm, the house platypus or the beach chicken.

As I said, I would try to give things a boaty flavour, but it is proving harder than I thought. Probably because I haven't actually been boating. Right, boaty stuff. Some of you may know that when the Spanish Armada was drawing near, Sir Francis Drake carried on playing bowls. Well, being the great man that he was, he knew that he couldn't launch the English ships until the tide turned. In other words, there was absolutely nothing he could do about the Spanish for quite a while. So he carried on with his game. When conditions changed, he took charge and, with the help of the great British weather, the rest is history.

That's all folks.

PS Do you know what my Grandfather's last words to me were? He asked me how old I was, and I said “six and a half”. Then he said his last words to me. I've never forgotten them. He said “you selfish boy”. So I left school and became a fishmonger. Think about it.

Garden Centre for coffee

PPS Note from Linda – Mum is home and doing well,thanks everyone for your good wishes, she's back in the garden again, dead-heading her beautiful roses. (Happy face emoji)