It took me a few seconds of arm-pit sniffing, and an "Uh?" to Grace to make me realise she wasn't talking about me. We were part-way up Watford Locks, moored at the side of the pond above the second lock, waiting for a succession of boats to pass on their way down.
We set out on Tuesday morning. The weather was summertime, and the living was easy. There were even fish jumping for the sake of those of us who know the song.
It's a long story involving a flight to Reykjavik, a potential drug mule and a knitted mouse, so I won't bore you with it here. Suffice it to say that we had Fluffy on board. It wouldn't be wrong to say he's seen better days, but he'd never seen one like this before.
We moored in the early afternoon just up from Norton Junction. We were in no hurry. AJ Canopies were expecting us to be with them late afternoon on Wednesday.
I've lost count of the number of times we've moored opposite this ancient British Waterways works butty, or the two a little further down.
It's a very popular stretch of mooring, so we were lucky to get a space.
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