Faring and sharing

Three months ago, I wrote in the blog,

"Several friends and family members have asked us recently what our cruising plans are for next year, and answer has been, "not to have any plans". Basically, we'll go to the gate and turn left, then see what happens."

Already, it's looking as though that might not be the case this year after all. We still have no idea where we might go, once we get moving, but we have already made plans around friends and family which are bound to restrict our movements.

In May, we'll have three friends with us - Frankie and Andy, and Colin - all old friends from years ago when Grace was designing knitting patterns with Frankie, and with Elaine, Colin's wife, who, very sadly, died last year. Having five on board, albeit only for three nights, is going to be... erm... challenging! But it'll certainly be fun, too. The three of them have no previous canal experience, apart from Frankie and Andy's one day with us at Foxton Locks.

Andy, Frankie, Grace and Colin

Probably before then, we'll have Jacqui visit us for a day, and Trevor another day. These two were students of mine in the late 70s and early 80s, two of the many I've recently been reconnected with through Facebook. It was Jacqui's jewellery fair we went to see in December.

Grace's eldest sister, Dorothy, has a 70th birthday celebration at the end of June - she shares it with her youngest sister, Madeline. Michelle's booked her break from work to spend the first week in July with us - Fradley Junction and back via Nottingham. A few days after that, we need to be back in the house for a week.

Fradley Junction

Some time in August or September, it'll be the turn of Christine and Mike, who've not holidayed with us for a couple of years now. They'll be with us for a week, but we'll be looking to find somewhere for them to meet us while we're already out on the cut, away from the marina.

Now, me being something of a grumpy git at the moment, that looks at first sight to be very fragmented, and not very good for faring (bargee writer and blogger Val Poore's word for travelling - as in wayfaring, seafaring). However, when I do the counting, we do actually get three decent stretches of time that amount to a total of 24 weeks, which would do us nicely. It'll be more if October turns out to be as good as it was in 2014, when we had a brilliant trip to Stratford-upon-Avon.

So I'm not complaining. We get the best of both worlds - faring and sharing. We like it that way!

A short visit from friends - Tuesday

Frankie and Andy ony had a 40-minute journey to do, but arrived late because of a road accident. The weather was superb again. We showed them around the boat, had a cup of tea, answered loads of their questions about the boat, living on the boat, cruising on the boat, buying a boat... and then we set off down the locks.

Frankie stayed with with Grace at the helm, and Andy assisted me with the locks. He got to chat with vollies, too, and they were their usual entertaining selves. At the bottom of the locks, we moored outside the Foxton Locks Inn, where we enjoyed a late, lazy lunch.

A yellow wagtail, having spent some time pecking at its reflection in a pub window, flew away to Kantara, landed on a gunnel, and strutted up and down it, pecking gently at the bird he could see in our paintwork. Vanity, vanity!

www.rspb.org.uk

After lunch, we did the short trip north up the canal as far as Debdale Wharf, turning round in the winding-hole before the bridge. There were three boats actually moored in the hole, and the only way Grace could turn without hitting them was for me to jump off onto the bank with the bow rope, and help to pull her round in a smaller circle than could normally be achieved. Grace didn't go for the idea of bouncing off the offending boats that I suggested. We were the last craft up the locks on the way back.

"But you've only just come down!", protested the chief vollie.

Grace was told by another of the volunteers that she has a bit of a reputation there for being a driver who doesn't hit lock walls or gates on the way in. She has the same reputation at Watford Locks, I told them.

photo - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3N8_2qH73Z4

We looked up at the sky. There was an increasing threat of rain and thunderstorm. Frankie and Andy had no waterproofs. Nearly there, though!

At the Top Lock, we met an Indian guy with his sister and brother-in-law. He was the only one who could speak English, although the only adverb he knew was "bloody". They'd only just arrived at Foxton. The locks were now closed, and most other visitors had left. It was a great shame they hadn't come sooner. Locks and narrowboats were new to all three of them. They'd never seen a bloody canal before. So Foxton was bloody good, locks were bloody amazing, narrowboats were bloody fantastic... He was bloody very enthusiastic!

We took the very last mooring space before the bridge above the locks. There was some awful parking before that, with gaps left between boats, far too small for anything but the smallest of craft, but which would have made a space for a couple of larger craft if only they'd been much closer together. 
What's that about? British reserve? Shyness? Modesty? Stupidity?

A storm looked imminent, and Frankie and Andy now had to walk back down the towing-path to the car park. They hurried off without further ado, wanting to get back to car before the rain set in. Actually, that only happened a couple of hours later.

Before that, I was hooking a huge tangle of weed out of the canal next to Kantara removing weed, listening to a woman on the next boat reading out an awful weather forecast for the next several days.

"We'd better set off really early tomorrow," she told the others with her, "and get some distance behind us before it all starts."

How wrong could they have been? The next couple of days were totally dry, hot and sunny.