No wonder I am a technophobe, settled down tonight to write the latest chapter in the enthralling work that is this blog and guess what, somehow a contents lock had imposed itself on my internet and wouldn't even allow me into my own blog, come on, I know it's not wonderful but it's hardly pornographic. I eventually managed to contact T-Mobile and of course I have no idea what the 'phone number of my dongle is and the serial number on it is unreadable, but after a friendly chat with the nice lady I eventually got it lifted and so the saga (not with a capital S) continues:
Foxton Locks? Nothing to 'em.
We arrived in the early morning mist and having made our number with the lockie off we went.
Jill was duty steerer and it was into the bottom lock,
red paddle first,
and when you open the white paddle the water rushes into the side pond, simple.
The lockie and I even had time to put the world to rights.
Five down, ( Or five up, depends on your point of view) five to go.
So we survived and I promise not to mention Foxton again. We are now on the summit level and moored miles from anywhere, bliss.