Hedgerow Jottings: Jottings from a Small Island

Turning at Sawley Services

Morning All

I'm happy to report that the dubious spam I was battling with on my last Jotting has been erased. It's been battered, fried and served up as spam fritters by my new virus protection and I'm squeaky clean again. No-one complained about the porn-spam so I'm hoping I still have some readers left.

Did you wonder where I'd got to last week? I was luxuriating in the home comforts of Mum's B & B and tootling around the local garden centres in search of Penstemons. I'm happy to say that the search also included lots of tea stops and even the odd cream cake. The heatwave prevented us from venturing out far as my little puddle jumper gets steaming hot when it's sunny - I foolishly thought that air conditioning was a luxury when we bought the car 10 years ago. Every summer I threaten to trade her in for a newer model but every year she goes through the MOT with flying colours so I decide to keep her a bit longer. I need something that can cope with being left in a hedge for weeks on end and can be relied upon to keep me cool in summer and toasty warm in winter - all suggestions for a suitable replacement gratefully received.

So, back to boating. Since I last wrote we have travelled from our home mooring in Egginton on the Trent and Mersey in Derbyshire to this rather lovely spot, Farndon, on the River Trent. The first part of the week was hectic with lots of boats using this really popular canal. The hire boat season is in full swing and the familiar blue boats, from the hire base in Sawley, keep us entertained with their exploits. A 'NewbIe' at Weston was trying to empty the lock without closing the top paddles when we came along - this meant the water was rushing into the lock at one end and pouring out of the other - 'Mr Newbie' was wondering why the gates wouldn't open. Once we'd sorted that out, then he went off to tell his wife to bring the boat in. After a long interval the little boat came in, ramming the gates hard and leaving a fender behind. Oh dear! She slammed the engine into hard reverse, zoomed backwards and left the tiller swinging wildly while she located the boat hook. After 3 attempts, the fender was collected and the boat re-entered the lock and I closed the gate on my side and then helped 'Mr Newbie' with his side. The lock gates at Weston are extremely heavy and closing them requires a lot of huffing and puffing so I wasn't best pleased to find that while the Newbies were trying to pass a rope from the boat up to the bollard (not easy because 1- the wife couldn't throw and 2 - the husband couldn't catch) my gate had swung open again. I plodded back and huffed and puffed again and closed it, the rope was finally secured to the bollard and just as we were about to let the water in - a horn sounded. Another boat wanted to come in and share the lock. I plodded back to the other end, opened the gate and in came a hire boat with two large men aboard. hey made no effort to leave the comfort of their boat and watched as 2 old ladies (me being one of them) and 'Mr Newbie' did all the hard work. As the boat rose up the lock, I asked them if they had a windlass with an arm on it and after a while, they got the joke and went below to find one. I left them to it and went to talk to Mrs Anonymous - she was the other elderly lady and had come from the cruiser behind us which was waiting patiently to go through the lock. The couple were both wearing very heavy-duty life jackets which is unusual on the canals. The husband had his name "Dave" written in large letters across the front of his jacket but his wife said she wished to remain anonymous - she told me later she has Parkinson's and wore the life jacket in case she fell in the lock. You have to admire her determination to keep on boating as long as she possibly could. We shared a couple of locks down to Shardlow with them and I never did find out her name so Mrs Anonymous she'll remain.

The River Trent has been kind to us this trip - we've had lovely sunshine most afternoons to speed us on our journey down to Torksey. Rain was forecast for Tuesday and we got a good soaking before we reached a mooring at Stenson and the sewage works at Shardlow could hardly be called a des res and we were over whelmed with tiny white flies which I rather think might have come from that direction. We were up early next morning and danced across the deep water to Sawley, only stopping to visit the services behind the lock and then chugging along with a good current to speed us to Nottingham and the delights of an overnight mooring right by Sainsburys and a good old natter with our boating friends Terry and Liz – see you on the way back I hope.

We left the city behind and didn't even think of mooring at Holme Pierrepoint, it's looking very desolate these days. Instead we overnighted at Stoke Bardolph, squeezing onto the floating pontoon between a narrow-boat and a couple of sailing yachts. A very courteous gentleman came out and assisted me with my ropes, we discussed the weather like proper English people before he retired to his yacht and left us to enjoy the peace of this delightful mooring.

Hazelford Lock Moorings

We reached Hazelford Lock under dark stormy skies and moored on a stepped pier for our usual cheese sandwich. Tricky soon got the hang of scampering up the large concrete steps and I managed to plod up to the top too so we left Carl to arrange his fenders and went exploring. We turned away from the noisy weir by the lock and followed a path through the bushes until we came to...another weir. The river passed on both sides of the lock creating a wild island, large enough to give Tricky a bit of a walk and teaming with wild life. What an unexpected delight, and we're not the only ones who think so. By teatime, a whole flotilla of cruisers had arrived and the island was busy with people barbecuing and enjoying the lovely sunny afternoon. Definitely one of the loveliest moorings on the Trent and unlike the Thames, all free

A Flotilla arrived at Hazelford

Our mooring today is a floating pontoon in Farndon - Tricky likes this much better than the stepped wall and rasps her beard joyfully on the rough pontoon matting while I unlock the security gate leading to the nearby grassy meadow - doggy heaven. It's not quite so peaceful here, music from the nearby 'Bistro' floats over the meadow and the river is busy with boats coming and going from Farndon Marina. Tomorrow, we'll be tying up in Newark and contacting the Lock-Keeper at Cromwell to book our passage down the tidal Trent to Torksey. I hope to meet up with my Boston family and friends along the way - please do come and find us, it's been too long since I saw you all.

Lots of Love from

The Floating Chandlers

PS A big dragonfly came in through the hatch and landed on my knickers - luckily, I wasn't wearing them at the time

PPS Me to Carl as we chug up the Trent towards Gunthorpe

“We're a bit close to the bank” Carl replied - “Don't worry, this is deep water”

Two minutes later we're aground and Carl is stranded on 'I Told You So' Island !!!