In front of me on the breakfast table I have four pills. Two for BP and two for gout. They cost me nothing. Today I shall go for a walk and get the bus back. For nothing. What a great country. Oh and today is payday.The world outside seems to be getting nastier so I shall continue to cocoon myself on Independence feeding the ducks and talking rubbish.
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| Steak Dinner at the Lime Kilns Peter, Ady,Mac and Carrie |
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| The Griffin from Lime Kilns Pub |
The third and final leg of my recent trip was a joy. We ate well-a subject I shall cover in greater detail anon-and the weather and company were excellent. Peter B was with us (Ady and I in company with Mac and Carrie on The Griffin) to Hawkesbury Junction and Geoff J joined at Braunston all the way back home.
Leaving the Lime Kilns pub on the Ashby (where we had enjoyed a steak night -2 steaks and a bottle of wine £20) we headed to Marston Junction where we joined the Coventry canal.
Ady walked it, Peter kayaked it and I poodled along. Ady disappeared a couple of times for a wee and I amused my puerile mind with the thought that if we had another crew memeber on a bike we would have a paddler, a piddler, a poodler and a peddler . Such are the workings of a mind less occupied.
We squeezed into the last mooring at Hawkesbury junction. Mac and Carrie are particularly fond of the Greyhound at Hawkesbury so we spent two nights there. It was their anniversary and a small celebration was in order. However such is the popularity of the Greyhound the restaurant was fully booked for both Friday and Saturday so we dined, very well, on the Griffin the first night and took pot luck in the bar on the Saturday where I thoroughly enjoyed a seafood pasta, I seem to be off steak at the moment** following a near death experience of the choking kind when at the Rising Sun, Shackerstone a week earlier. I hasten to add it was my fault. The steak was blameless. Peter B attempted to assist with his version of the Heimlich Manouvre- a whack on the back. It's a good job he chose law as a trade.
For more info visit:
http://www.nhs.uk/chq/Pages/2301.aspx
** Except when it's 2 and a bottle of wine for 20 quid
Courtesy of Kay and Peter I was able to bring my car from Shackerstone to Hawkesbury enabling shopping in Nuneaton (the home of anorexia) and to get to church on the Sunday.
I am not sure if I have ever experienced "Frisson" (a sudden feeling of excitement or fear, especially when you think that something is about to happen).
I mention this because at the Sainsburys in Nuneaton I was at a check out manned by a young bloke of Middle Eastern appearance and judging by his name tag probably a Muslim. He apologised for the delay as he had to do some cashing up. He pulled a wad of notes from the till to put in one of those round plastic containers and I joked "Don't worry about that. I can look after that for you"
He smiled and replied "I'm sure you could sir but I'd get my head cut off"
It was at that moment we both learnt the real meaning of frisson.
The phrase which until a month or so back was an everyday and innocuous expression now meant something else. But not to us.
We both smiled, then laughed a little nervously and carried on with the transaction. Two blokes, one Muslim, one Christian. Brothers of the Nectar card. We parted as all should do; better for having met.
Back to Hawkesbury with fresh supplies. We passed through the small stop lock (The Hawkesbury Deep) on Sunday morn onto the Northern Oxford and headed south for Newbold arriving there mid afternoon and slotting in to a couple of moorings that were vacated as we arrived.
There are two pubs at Newbold adjacent to the canal, the Boat and the Barley Mow. The Barley Mow has been refurbished during the last year and is nearest to the canal by some 50 feet. So it to there that Ady and I adjourned for a pint.
Quelle surprise! A Modern Jazz jamming session was in full swing and very good it was too.
We summoned Mac and Carrie and enjoyed a very pleasant hour or so before returning to Independence for roast lamb. A proper Sunday.
Monday and we travel from Newbold to Braunston, mooring on the Braunston flight of locks in the pound below the Admiral Nelson where we are to meet Geoff J.
We set off before the Griffin but they soon caught us up at Hillmorton locks. These comprise three sets of single locks side by side which work well when all the locks are operating. Unfortunately work is being carried out on one of the top locks so there was a delay/jam waiting for the traffic to come down to one lane. This gave an opportunity whilst faffing about to take a few pictures of Mac on the Griffin
We arrived at Braunston by 4pm and met up with Geoff J. stowing his gear before checking out the Admiral Nelly for dinner. We were not disappointed. Fish and chips on a wooden platter followed by an excellent fruit salad. How we wished Roy was with us. He adores food served on a wooden platter.
An early night beckoned as we have a full day tomorrow.
An 8 a.m. start with two tunnels, the remaining five locks of the Braunston flight, Whilton locks(7) and lots of canal to be done before we reach Stoke Bruerne for Tuesday night. I've mentioned before that I don't like tunnels so was more than happy for Ady to steer through Braunston following The Griffin. This allowed me the rare privilege of sitting up front with my camera.
From Braunston to Whilton locks-a flight of seven descending from Long Buckby. The first five went well with Mac and Ady lockwheeling and Carrie steering the Griffin. Then we reached the bottom two where things got busy. By the time we reached the bottom lock a pair of boats were waiting to enter from the south. Carrie and I waited...and waited..........and waited. The B.O.W. (you work it out) took forever to get the boats into the lock then seemed to tie every bit of rope, string and knicker elastic to the gates. Once they were apparently settled Ady and Mac went to wind the paddles. One of the B.O.W.s, a bespectacled youth of about 15 years shouted "Stop"! which they did. He wanted the paddle raised when he deemed it safe so to do. A female of the B.O.W.s then replaced Mac on his gate. I sat midstream amazed. Between Ady and Mac there is a gnat's cock short of 100 years lockworking dismissed out of hand.
The B.O.W.s then took forever to get their boats out of the lock and having waited nearly 30 minutes we were allowed to continue on our way.This unwarranted delay had the knock-on effect of putting us behind a slowcoach travelling at immeasureable speed all the way to Stoke Bruerne. I spent half the trip out of gear.
Eventually we reached the northern end of the Blisworth tunnel and decide to hang about so as not to crawl through behind matey. We waited half an hour allowing a normal passage through the tunnel.
I entered first and whilst I didn't rush I still managed to get within 300 metres of slowcoach before he exited the tunnel.
We decided to drop down two locks of the Stoke Bruerne flight
and by the time we mooered we were all pleasantly knackered.
Apart from our strenuous time table the other reason for wanting to overnight at Stoke Bruerne is the excellent Indian retaurant....bit pricey but lovely grub. A good night to celebrate the eve of Geoff J's birthday.
After yesterday's 10 hour run we were owed a a lie in but we were determined not to get caught behind the slowcoach so kicked off at 8.30 arriving at the Black Horse Great Linford about 1.30. We sat for a while in the pub garden whilst Carrie took the dog for a walk. The plan was that she would check out the moorings on the Nag's Head side near the Arts Centre. A lovely mooring but oft occupied by dossers these days. The phone rang and Carrie said the mooring was empty. "We go" I said and as one man the four of us leapt to our feet and headed for the boats, firing up and away with the speed of light lest some git nick the spot. The blokes sitting at an adjacent table in the Black Horse garden looked a little surprised at our sudden activity and must have thought we were undercover drug squad!
This mooring, known as Rupert's Mooring, after Mac's dog of yesteryear, is also the last resting place of Twirly, my pig, who was swept to an early watery grave by a willow tree. A few drinks in the Nag's Head and back to the boat for a birthday spag bol followed by cheese and biscuits on board The Griffin.
Thursday and today is the day fixed for the Scots to hold a referendum on "Independence". Now I know a bit about running elections and the like and was surprised that nobody had consulted me on how it was to be organised. I figured if hundreds of hairy Scotsmen and women were going to turn up at my boat I'd better have some arrangements in place. I got the crew up at 6 a.m. so that the loo could be used as the polling station with voters entering by the boatman's cabin and leaving through the front well.
I had no idea what their referendum was about but if they were holding it on my boat I wasn't going to be found wanting. Anyway no Macvoters had turned up by 10 a.m. so the referendum subject can't have been important but you'd think someone would have had the courtesy to let me know. Just wait till they get my bill.
I couldn't wait for them any longer so we set off for the Globe at Linslade.
We passed through the delights of Milton Keynes without incident each taking turns on the tiller till we reached Three Locks at Soulbury
We moored at the Globe a little later than planned as we had to stop to retie a boat that had drifted away from the bank.
Mac and Carrie ate on board but Geoff, Ady and I ate in the pub which was alrightish
The beer, however, was disappointing. I've noticed before at the Globe that they carry a range of beers but they all seem flat and too cold. I tend not to go for the stronger beers but the only beer under 4.0 was the awful Greene King IPA. Might try Three Locks next time. Shame.
This chap with chums was by Seabrook lock. A Canalpaca.
Friday's journey back to Cowroast was tinged with sadness as the journey was ending but we are hardy folk grateful for the good times we've had.I had not slept well as I kept waking to hear the coverage of the count from Scotland. I was lifted by the news in the morning. Fulham had sacked their manager and not before time. So that was what the referendum was about.
Back to Cowroast in the evening and an excellent dinner on board the Griffin with Peter and Christine and Roy. Such good company to finish a wonderful trip.
Back in Berkhamsted for the Chilli Challenge Awards evening. Pam had hinted that the judging panel had looked favourably on one of my chillies and there might be an award. To be fair they are more Pams' chillies than mine as she booked my plants into her chilli care home whilst I was away. Anyway I got a certificate for the fattest chilli and Pam won in two other categories.
The evening-indeed the whole challenge-were organised by Janice (above) and John with great success.
John Foster (centre) also picked up two certificates. I did have to point out to him (though his hearing was a little slurred) that if I hadn't told him at the outset of the competition that the junk mail he had thrown away was in fact his chilli seeds with instructions for entering then he'd have won bugger all.
Leaving the Lime Kilns pub on the Ashby (where we had enjoyed a steak night -2 steaks and a bottle of wine £20) we headed to Marston Junction where we joined the Coventry canal.
Ady walked it, Peter kayaked it and I poodled along. Ady disappeared a couple of times for a wee and I amused my puerile mind with the thought that if we had another crew memeber on a bike we would have a paddler, a piddler, a poodler and a peddler . Such are the workings of a mind less occupied.
We squeezed into the last mooring at Hawkesbury junction. Mac and Carrie are particularly fond of the Greyhound at Hawkesbury so we spent two nights there. It was their anniversary and a small celebration was in order. However such is the popularity of the Greyhound the restaurant was fully booked for both Friday and Saturday so we dined, very well, on the Griffin the first night and took pot luck in the bar on the Saturday where I thoroughly enjoyed a seafood pasta, I seem to be off steak at the moment** following a near death experience of the choking kind when at the Rising Sun, Shackerstone a week earlier. I hasten to add it was my fault. The steak was blameless. Peter B attempted to assist with his version of the Heimlich Manouvre- a whack on the back. It's a good job he chose law as a trade.
For more info visit:
http://www.nhs.uk/chq/Pages/2301.aspx
** Except when it's 2 and a bottle of wine for 20 quid
 |
| Peter and Adrian on a bridge over the Coventry canal. Nice bridge |
Courtesy of Kay and Peter I was able to bring my car from Shackerstone to Hawkesbury enabling shopping in Nuneaton (the home of anorexia) and to get to church on the Sunday.
I am not sure if I have ever experienced "Frisson" (a sudden feeling of excitement or fear, especially when you think that something is about to happen).
I mention this because at the Sainsburys in Nuneaton I was at a check out manned by a young bloke of Middle Eastern appearance and judging by his name tag probably a Muslim. He apologised for the delay as he had to do some cashing up. He pulled a wad of notes from the till to put in one of those round plastic containers and I joked "Don't worry about that. I can look after that for you"
He smiled and replied "I'm sure you could sir but I'd get my head cut off"
It was at that moment we both learnt the real meaning of frisson.
The phrase which until a month or so back was an everyday and innocuous expression now meant something else. But not to us.
We both smiled, then laughed a little nervously and carried on with the transaction. Two blokes, one Muslim, one Christian. Brothers of the Nectar card. We parted as all should do; better for having met.
Back to Hawkesbury with fresh supplies. We passed through the small stop lock (The Hawkesbury Deep) on Sunday morn onto the Northern Oxford and headed south for Newbold arriving there mid afternoon and slotting in to a couple of moorings that were vacated as we arrived.
There are two pubs at Newbold adjacent to the canal, the Boat and the Barley Mow. The Barley Mow has been refurbished during the last year and is nearest to the canal by some 50 feet. So it to there that Ady and I adjourned for a pint.
Quelle surprise! A Modern Jazz jamming session was in full swing and very good it was too.
We summoned Mac and Carrie and enjoyed a very pleasant hour or so before returning to Independence for roast lamb. A proper Sunday.Monday and we travel from Newbold to Braunston, mooring on the Braunston flight of locks in the pound below the Admiral Nelson where we are to meet Geoff J.
We set off before the Griffin but they soon caught us up at Hillmorton locks. These comprise three sets of single locks side by side which work well when all the locks are operating. Unfortunately work is being carried out on one of the top locks so there was a delay/jam waiting for the traffic to come down to one lane. This gave an opportunity whilst faffing about to take a few pictures of Mac on the Griffin
 |
| Mac and Carrie at Braunston Junction |
An early night beckoned as we have a full day tomorrow.
 |
| Adrian gets a gentle soaking on the Braunston flight |
From Braunston to Whilton locks-a flight of seven descending from Long Buckby. The first five went well with Mac and Ady lockwheeling and Carrie steering the Griffin. Then we reached the bottom two where things got busy. By the time we reached the bottom lock a pair of boats were waiting to enter from the south. Carrie and I waited...and waited..........and waited. The B.O.W. (you work it out) took forever to get the boats into the lock then seemed to tie every bit of rope, string and knicker elastic to the gates. Once they were apparently settled Ady and Mac went to wind the paddles. One of the B.O.W.s, a bespectacled youth of about 15 years shouted "Stop"! which they did. He wanted the paddle raised when he deemed it safe so to do. A female of the B.O.W.s then replaced Mac on his gate. I sat midstream amazed. Between Ady and Mac there is a gnat's cock short of 100 years lockworking dismissed out of hand.The B.O.W.s then took forever to get their boats out of the lock and having waited nearly 30 minutes we were allowed to continue on our way.This unwarranted delay had the knock-on effect of putting us behind a slowcoach travelling at immeasureable speed all the way to Stoke Bruerne. I spent half the trip out of gear.
Eventually we reached the northern end of the Blisworth tunnel and decide to hang about so as not to crawl through behind matey. We waited half an hour allowing a normal passage through the tunnel.
I entered first and whilst I didn't rush I still managed to get within 300 metres of slowcoach before he exited the tunnel.
We decided to drop down two locks of the Stoke Bruerne flight
and by the time we mooered we were all pleasantly knackered. Apart from our strenuous time table the other reason for wanting to overnight at Stoke Bruerne is the excellent Indian retaurant....bit pricey but lovely grub. A good night to celebrate the eve of Geoff J's birthday.
After yesterday's 10 hour run we were owed a a lie in but we were determined not to get caught behind the slowcoach so kicked off at 8.30 arriving at the Black Horse Great Linford about 1.30. We sat for a while in the pub garden whilst Carrie took the dog for a walk. The plan was that she would check out the moorings on the Nag's Head side near the Arts Centre. A lovely mooring but oft occupied by dossers these days. The phone rang and Carrie said the mooring was empty. "We go" I said and as one man the four of us leapt to our feet and headed for the boats, firing up and away with the speed of light lest some git nick the spot. The blokes sitting at an adjacent table in the Black Horse garden looked a little surprised at our sudden activity and must have thought we were undercover drug squad! |
| The Griffin at Great Linford |
 |
| Twirly on board |
This mooring, known as Rupert's Mooring, after Mac's dog of yesteryear, is also the last resting place of Twirly, my pig, who was swept to an early watery grave by a willow tree. A few drinks in the Nag's Head and back to the boat for a birthday spag bol followed by cheese and biscuits on board The Griffin.
Thursday and today is the day fixed for the Scots to hold a referendum on "Independence". Now I know a bit about running elections and the like and was surprised that nobody had consulted me on how it was to be organised. I figured if hundreds of hairy Scotsmen and women were going to turn up at my boat I'd better have some arrangements in place. I got the crew up at 6 a.m. so that the loo could be used as the polling station with voters entering by the boatman's cabin and leaving through the front well.
I had no idea what their referendum was about but if they were holding it on my boat I wasn't going to be found wanting. Anyway no Macvoters had turned up by 10 a.m. so the referendum subject can't have been important but you'd think someone would have had the courtesy to let me know. Just wait till they get my bill.
 |
| Sheep grazing at Grafton Regis-one of my favourite spots |
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| She understands every word that Jasper says |
 |
| A Heron at Willowbridge |
We moored at the Globe a little later than planned as we had to stop to retie a boat that had drifted away from the bank.
Mac and Carrie ate on board but Geoff, Ady and I ate in the pub which was alrightish
The beer, however, was disappointing. I've noticed before at the Globe that they carry a range of beers but they all seem flat and too cold. I tend not to go for the stronger beers but the only beer under 4.0 was the awful Greene King IPA. Might try Three Locks next time. Shame.
This chap with chums was by Seabrook lock. A Canalpaca.Friday's journey back to Cowroast was tinged with sadness as the journey was ending but we are hardy folk grateful for the good times we've had.I had not slept well as I kept waking to hear the coverage of the count from Scotland. I was lifted by the news in the morning. Fulham had sacked their manager and not before time. So that was what the referendum was about.Back to Cowroast in the evening and an excellent dinner on board the Griffin with Peter and Christine and Roy. Such good company to finish a wonderful trip. |
| The last lock-Bulbourne |
 |
| My Winner |
The evening-indeed the whole challenge-were organised by Janice (above) and John with great success.
I counted 20 odd (some very odd) people present whilst other competitors were skulking in Poland and Greece too feeble to face the prospect of failure. Just like stars who can't be bothered to attend the Oscars
 |
| My Certificate! So proud. |
John Foster (centre) also picked up two certificates. I did have to point out to him (though his hearing was a little slurred) that if I hadn't told him at the outset of the competition that the junk mail he had thrown away was in fact his chilli seeds with instructions for entering then he'd have won bugger all.
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The Official winners were: Karl and Mikaela - best photograph, John Lavender - first chilli, Clemmie - best matching pair, Roger and Sarah - smallest plant with a Chilli, Tim and Sue - most travelled Chilli's and last to plant, Mike and Barbara - weirdest shaped Chilli, Mike Wall- fattest chilli,Mike and Barbara - biggest selection of Plants, Johnny Foster - the biggest chilli, Clemmie -the most red Chilli's, Johnny Foster - the hottest chilli, Pam - the most Chilli's on one bush (75) and over all best chilli bush
 |
| Oh Dear! |
Sunday and Pam and I go blackberrying with some considerable success. I won't tell you where cos it's our secret. In the evening we met friends Lynn and Trevor for a film at the wonderful Rex. We saw "To Catch a Thief" with Cary Grant and Grace Kelly and directed by Alfred Hitchcock. We enjoyed it greatly and then adjourned to the restaurant downstairs "The Gatsby" where a convivial evening ensued. Home and jollity. A perfect end to a great holiday.
So Lucky.So very lucky.......
Till next time............Bon chance
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