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| The Lady Aberlour |
The other day I asked Linda where the newspaper was. She asked me why I didn't try living in the 21st century for a change and to use her iPad instead. The fly didn't stand a chance. Boom! Boom!
The Lady Aberlour has been abandoned at her home mooring while her crew (me and Linda) have returned to our land-locked residence in order to carry out some garden based activities. Well, what can I tell you - the last week or two have been so exciting, so exhilarent, so thrilling that I don't know where to begin. Actually, the most exciting thing was that I turned the boat twice without initiating a major law suit. But I am getting ahead of myself.
On Saturday 16th June the weather was warm, there was no wind (except for Tricky the wind machine) and no rain was forecast. Perfect painting weather. I had already done a shed load of preparation on the boat's port side, so began the task of masking everything. This involved taping over the white coach lines, the windows and the gunwales with masking tape and newspaper, a very onerous task but necessary. By Sunday afternoon I had successfully painted my trainers, my jeans, fifty seven feet of tow-path, two astonished geese and one side of the Lady Aberlour. I was very pleased with the result. The boat actually looked quite good. Unfortunately, due to one of life's lesser known laws, some of my clothes inside the boat, which I hadn't even been wearing, were also covered with paint. The 'Naga Queen' arrived on Sunday afternoon and Pat and Malc admired the painted scenery. Eventually, I guided their attention towards the freshly painted port side, and was rewarded with some appreciative comments. After a quick shopping trip and even quicker cup of coffee they said their goodbyes and cast off, leaving me to apologise to the geese for painting two of their brethren, albeit by accident. Tricky was bereft again - first Mummy disappears and then the 'Bringers of the Magic Water' take off as well.
Linda abandoned me at Branston (no, we didn't have a row although there might be one when she finds the paint everywhere) and caught the train to see her Mum who had some back pain that seemed to be getting worse. I was tasked with minding Tricky and the boat until we knew more. The plan was that I'd take the boat back to our home mooring, where Linda would pick us up on Tuesday morning. On Monday morning I was up by 05.30, determined to get an early start before any other boaters were about. I cast off and passed through two locks without incident. Although it was still very early, I met several boats going the other way, and there was at least one boat following me – so much for the early start!. When I got to Barton Turns Marina, I swung round like a pirouetting ballerina and started back the way I had come.(Linda inserted a smiley face emoji here) Alas, there was no audience, except for a lone fisherman who seemed to be asleep.
Burton on Trent was my penultimate destination that day, and I was moored up by mid-morning. Just after I had tied up, I saw a dog chasing it's own tail. “Aren't dogs easily amused?” I asked myself. Then I realised that I was being amused by watching a dog chasing it's tail.
Around mid-day I had a bit of dinner; cheese sandwich (of course) and an apple, that sort of thing. I also opened a packet of air, and found there were a few crisps rattling around in the bottom, which I ate. They tasted of chicken. The day had been hot and sunny so far, but by mid-afternoon a brisk wind began to blow. I needed to get to our home mooring by tomorrow morning, so planned to cast off later today. The wind got stronger as the day progressed, and I wondered whether I should hang on until the morning, but eventually I cast off just after seven that evening.
As I approached Horninglow Lock, I noticed a tall youth wandering around it in a very suspicious manner. I brought the boat in to the lock landing, tied up and walked towards the lock windlass in hand. The youth stood by the lock gate and stared at me as I approached. He was a big lad, around six feet, broad across the shoulder, narrow across the hip. “You ok?” I asked, as I approached. He just stood there, folded his arms and glared menacingly at me. As I got closer he put his hand on the lock gate as if to say “You ain't coming through here”. Then he took a deep breath and shouted “Mum, do you think this man will let me help him do the lock?”. Then a little lady appeared with a tiny dog and said “If you ask him nicely I'm sure he won't mind”. It turned out this lad was autistic and loved boats. He couldn't do enough to help. He raised the paddles and opened the gates for me, then closed the gates after I left the lock. It just shows that you should never judge a book by it's cover. I actually felt quite guilty for assuming he was looking for trouble.
Then followed the cruise to Willington and back towards the mooring. Tricky had been sitting patiently on the hatch all this time, but was starting to fidget. I knew the signs and looked for a place to pull in, so that she could attend to her ablutions. The wind was still gusting, so getting the boat to the side proved, er, tricky, but we got there unscathed. With Tricky wriggling under one arm I managed to step ashore and put her down, then held the boat against the bank, much to the chagrin of the wind, which fought me every step of the way. While this epic battle took place Tricky was happily bumbling about, sniffing first this patch of grass, then that patch thistles and showing no sign that she wanted to come back aboard. I called her and she sat down and looked gormless. I called her a second time and, after a suitable pause to show that she was doing me a special favour, she slowly flolloped to the boat and jumped aboard. The wind then dropped and the evening became quite still.
After such a warm day it was quite a surprise to feel a chill developing in the air as the sun began to go down. We reached Willington as the sun was setting, and I pointed the boat into the winding hole for the final turn. Another pirouette and this time there was a very large audience watching from the George and Dragon on Willington Green ! An audience usually guarantees a fiasco of a turn.
It was nearly dark by now and quite cold. I slowly cruised back the way I'd come and tucked us up for the night just above bridge twenty five and battened down the hatches. I made myself tinned chilli-con-carne and watched an episode of “The Detectorists”. Tricky and I agreed that its not much fun boating without 'her indoors'.
It's now Tuesday morning and here is a thought. You should always cry over spilt milk, otherwise how would you value milk and avoid spilling it in future? There. I've got that off my chest! Anyway, all that is left to relate is that, after a good night's sleep, I took The Lady Aberlour back to our home mooring and tied up there at around 09.30. More riveting adventures to come, they will definitely, probably be related, maybe soon. Who knows.
Anyway, bye for now
As I approached Horninglow Lock, I noticed a tall youth wandering around it in a very suspicious manner. I brought the boat in to the lock landing, tied up and walked towards the lock windlass in hand. The youth stood by the lock gate and stared at me as I approached. He was a big lad, around six feet, broad across the shoulder, narrow across the hip. “You ok?” I asked, as I approached. He just stood there, folded his arms and glared menacingly at me. As I got closer he put his hand on the lock gate as if to say “You ain't coming through here”. Then he took a deep breath and shouted “Mum, do you think this man will let me help him do the lock?”. Then a little lady appeared with a tiny dog and said “If you ask him nicely I'm sure he won't mind”. It turned out this lad was autistic and loved boats. He couldn't do enough to help. He raised the paddles and opened the gates for me, then closed the gates after I left the lock. It just shows that you should never judge a book by it's cover. I actually felt quite guilty for assuming he was looking for trouble.
Then followed the cruise to Willington and back towards the mooring. Tricky had been sitting patiently on the hatch all this time, but was starting to fidget. I knew the signs and looked for a place to pull in, so that she could attend to her ablutions. The wind was still gusting, so getting the boat to the side proved, er, tricky, but we got there unscathed. With Tricky wriggling under one arm I managed to step ashore and put her down, then held the boat against the bank, much to the chagrin of the wind, which fought me every step of the way. While this epic battle took place Tricky was happily bumbling about, sniffing first this patch of grass, then that patch thistles and showing no sign that she wanted to come back aboard. I called her and she sat down and looked gormless. I called her a second time and, after a suitable pause to show that she was doing me a special favour, she slowly flolloped to the boat and jumped aboard. The wind then dropped and the evening became quite still.
After such a warm day it was quite a surprise to feel a chill developing in the air as the sun began to go down. We reached Willington as the sun was setting, and I pointed the boat into the winding hole for the final turn. Another pirouette and this time there was a very large audience watching from the George and Dragon on Willington Green ! An audience usually guarantees a fiasco of a turn.
It was nearly dark by now and quite cold. I slowly cruised back the way I'd come and tucked us up for the night just above bridge twenty five and battened down the hatches. I made myself tinned chilli-con-carne and watched an episode of “The Detectorists”. Tricky and I agreed that its not much fun boating without 'her indoors'.
It's now Tuesday morning and here is a thought. You should always cry over spilt milk, otherwise how would you value milk and avoid spilling it in future? There. I've got that off my chest! Anyway, all that is left to relate is that, after a good night's sleep, I took The Lady Aberlour back to our home mooring and tied up there at around 09.30. More riveting adventures to come, they will definitely, probably be related, maybe soon. Who knows.
Anyway, bye for now
Love from
Half of the Floating Chandlers
PS Don't you hate it when people answer their own questions? I do.
PPS From Linda - Mum has had a couple of weeks in the QMC with a recurrence of her back problem. She's doing really well now and we hope she will be coming home this week.
PS Don't you hate it when people answer their own questions? I do.
PPS From Linda - Mum has had a couple of weeks in the QMC with a recurrence of her back problem. She's doing really well now and we hope she will be coming home this week.
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