Well, my vision of Coventry airport was not far out! There is a collection of portable buildings a little more upmarket than Nissen huts, and if it had been raining, the last two-thirds of the queue at check-in would have been very wet! Friends Ronnie and Pete took us to the airport and we had only just waved them goodbye and joined the queue when we heard there was a three hour delay! What a pity we hadn't known before they dropped us. We could have gone back with them and waited in comfort. There was quite a bit of grumbling in the queue, after all, the flight itself was only two and a half hours long.

There was a couple of flights being checked in and there was hardly room in the 'Departures Hall' to move. The holdup was caused by the fact that there is only one electronic scanning device and so it took rather a long time. Then we walked out of the first building and crossed in to the second, which was the waiting area. This was also a cafe and there were enough seats for about fifty people altogether. We were each given a GBP3 voucher to spend at the cafe and I had the worst toasted sandwich I've ever had. I can't imagine what was done to it to make it so dreadful!

As we sat waiting, an announcement was made that everyone flying to Salzburg should go and reclaim their luggage and meet at the front of the 'terminal' building to get on to a fleet of coaches which would take them to Birmingham airport, where there plane was waiting!!!!! However, the good news was that our plane was only delayed by two hours.......

We had a wonderful holiday in Spain with my brother and sister-in-law in Spain. The weather was perfect, day after day of cloudless blue skies, warm sunshine, good food and good company. We visited Gibraltar, Cordoba and Ronda, all such interesting places. The Cathedral at Cordoba is incredible, built inside a mosque. The flight home was uneventful and we returned to our boat at Uxbridge Marina refreshed and ready to go.

And go we did! (What terrible grammar!) We have just under five weeks to get to Llangollen for the winter before the winter stoppages begin. That's about one hundred and seventy miles and one hundred and eighty locks--but don't quote me on that, it's just a rough estimate!

It's always a good feeling to pull away and set off, and this was especially so as we started on our trip north. Not because we hadn't enjoyed Packet Boat Marina. Quite the reverse, it's a very friendly place and well organised. But it was good to have the thought of the long trip ahead, all of the scenery we would pass through, the friends we would meet and the fun we would have.

We went through the deepest lock on the Grand Union at Denham, which ha a rise of 11' 1", and moored up in beautiful countryside just above Stocker's Lock. The next day we pulled up at Tesco to lay in provisions for the imminent arrival of Sheridan and Ron, who were joining us the next day for a few days. Then on through lovely countryside to Hemel Hempstead, where we moored by Lock 66. This was not the prettiest of spots, but it was getting dark, and it felt safe enough.

Eventually we managed to extricate ourselves from the comfort zone of the bar and set off. The weather didn't look too promising and soon enough it started to rain. So we lit the fire for the first time this season, to warm ourselves up and dry all of the waterproofs, and in fact the fire has been alight ever since. Well, I don't mean on the same fuel, that would have been good, but we've kept it lit ever since, if you get my drift!

This evening we moored just above Cowroast Lock and repaired to The Cowroast pub, which is an odd sort of place. It is run by Thais, and has a Thai restaurant, and somehow it feels more like a place abroad than an English pub. But the food is good and we had an excellent meal, courtesy of Sheridan and Ron. Thank you both, you can come again, any time!

The next day, we had all of the rain there was in the sky all over us! It was awful. We pulled in twice and moored up it was so torrential, though it was almost too late to bother by the time we'd found somewhere to moor, and tied up, we were all so wet. This evening we moored out in the country, near Church Lock, and ate on board.

In the morning we went in to Leighton Buzzard and moored right outside a very handily placed Tesco to shop. We moved on to Soulbury Three Locks, where Sheridan and Ron's daughter Lisa and her two children, Eliot and Molly, met us. They had come to pick up our friends and take them back to retrieve their car. We were really sorry to see them go, they're good company, and with their help we'd made excellent progress, far more than if we had been on our own. With four of us, one can go ahead to prepare the next lock.

So now we were on our own again, and the shock of it all was too much! So we just went on round the bend and moored up for the night. When Sheridan rang later and heard how we had collapsed she was very disappointed with us! But we were tired and wanted to recharge the batteries.

However we made up for it over the next couple of days, as we pulled in to Braunston two days later, having done some very lengthy cruises. The first evening we moored just below Stoke Bruene locks, having done twenty-one miles and three locks. The second day we did two tunnels, Blisworth which is 3067 yds long, and Braunston, which is 2042 yards, eighteen locks and nineteen miles. So we redeemed ourselves in Sheridan's eyes! We moored up in the pound just below the Admiral Nelson, and felt we had earned a bar snack there! (Aren't we weak?!)

This morning we went on down the last two locks and in to Braunston Marina, where we were to moor for two nights as Trev was going to the NEC to a talk by Robert Fisk, a Middle East journalist who writes in The Independent. I stayed on board and caught up on all sorts of things I often don't find time to do. One thing I think you really ought to know is that I have done all of the locks since we left Uxbridge! I had help with some of them, of course, but I'm pretty pleased with myself to have done over one hundred.

As we came through the top lock, Jessica, Nigel and their two sons, Ben aged almost four and Zak aged almost two, were waiting to meet us. When we had the guest house, Jessica was one of our 'Sunday' girls. She helped us for quite a few years, house sitting so that we could go out in the evening, and even running the guest house for a weekend once. Now she is a serious mum, and we hoped she would manage not to have baby number three whilst she was on the boat. S/he is due to arrive at any moment. We decided that if she did have it on the boat and it was a girl, it would have to be called Liberty! It was good to see Jessica again, and to see how happy she is. Her boys were a delight and we're just waiting to hear of the birth of number three.

Did you ever see the episode of the Vicar of Dibley, when Dawn French had three Christmas dinners in one day, so as not to offend anyone? And she crawled home? Well, that's petty much how I was beginning to feel!

On Monday, we had friends for coffee, ever keen to pack in as many visitors as possible! This time it was Cherry, plus Sheila, who was the secretary when I taught at Woodloes First School, and Douglas, her husband. We had a good old chinwag and then, just after noon, we set off to 'do' the Hatton Flight. Twenty-one locks in about two miles. We had done about the first ten when Ronnie and Pete appeared and helped us up the rest. With their help, we were through in about three and a half hours. We all had a cuppa at the top, and then waved them goodbye. We don't know when we shall see them again, probably not this year.

We moved on and moored by Hatton Station, 'cos, guess what! Yes, we're out again this evening! This time it was friends Shelagh and Roger. First they came on board for a drink and then we set off for The Fleur de Lys at Lowsonford. Except that we got lost, and ended up in Norton Lindsey, the village where we lived for a year whilst we were waiting for the boat to be built. So we went in to The New Inn in the village to see if we could eat there, but sadly they were fully booked. We ended up at The Red Lion at Claverdon, a bit of a pretentious place with very pretentious prices! GBP12.95 for fish and chips! Still it was there or nothing so we decided to ignore the price and enjoy it anyway, though the bill of eighty pounds for four mains and drinks was a bit of an eye roller! And the waitress needed a few lessons in how to deal with customers. Shelagh asked what her main meal would come with and was told, whatever is says on the menu! It's odd, isn't it, that in some of the more expensive places, the staff seem to have the feeling that the customers are jerks?

The next morning we set off for Brum. We had deliberately ensured that we would be travelling within school hours, to lessen the potential problems, but in the event we got through safely. The only incidents were:

a gang of youths congregated under a bridge, drinking and shouting, who asked for a ride. We didn't respond, just smiled and revved the engine up. One of them decided he would take a ride any way, and stood on the gunwhale all the way through the bridge, But he had to get off at the end, or he would have been stuck as the bank moved away from the canal.

And a group of people in their twenties near the bottom of the Farmer's Bridge flight who were out of their minds on something or other. On seeing our bags of coal, one of them mistook them for compost and asked if they could have some to smoke! They then offered us a 'smoke' for GBP15. As before, we carried on smiling enigmatically! We knew there was a flight of thirteen locks ahead of us, and we couldn't escape, so we had to keep them happy!

There are thirteen locks in the Farmer's Bridge flight of locks from Aston Junction up in to the heart of Birmingham, and it's an interesting area, very urban, with some of the buildings actually built over the canal.

On Friday, 20th October, we left the city and made our way to north of Wolverhampton, the nearest place to where we felt comfortable mooring. This was a long day, and we did twenty-four locks and about seventeen miles. Most of this was through very urban areas, derelict industrial buildings, factories, under motorways, etc.

There were three locks at Smethwick where the landscape was surprisingly attractive for a moment or two.

Then there was the flight of twenty-one locks out of Wolverhampton. I was delighted to see the locals still asked me if I was 'alroight' as I passed them! Trev was born and brought up in Bilston, near Wolverhampton, and now, when we go through the very area where he was born, he just can't believe he spent his first eighteen years in such an urban environment.

It was a long day--about eight hours--and eventually we moored on the Shropshire Union a few miles north of the city. Even here, I was somewhat uneasy, as a few weeks ago, a narrowboat had been burnt deliberately only a couple of miles away. Still, we passed the night safely, and in the morning set off for Brewood--pronounced brood. It's a pretty village and everyone smiles and says Good Morning and makes comments about the weather as one walks along the street. We shopped but did not stay overnight as the mooring is in a cutting and is very gloomy.

We continued a few miles further, dropped down through Wheaton Aston Lock and moored just below. Here I met someone the like of whom really annoys me. I don't get my dander up too often, but when I am passing moored boats at tick over speed, going so slowly I've almost lost all steering, and someone leans out of his boat and asks me where the fire is, I get a bit annoyed! "Fire?" I said. "No, I can't see a fire anywhere...." and I think he was a little uncertain as to whether I had understood the sarcasm in his question. I wondered what Mr. Smartypants had said to a working boat which had passed us above the lock at a speed fit to knock the kettle off the stove. Did he lean out of his hatch and ask HIM where the fire was? Peasant! Moan over.

Autumn/Winter, 2006/7

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