I appreciate that technology enables us to do marvellous things, blogging being an example, but why do the gizmos gang up to give you a hard time? The lap top took it on itself to start crashing at inconvenient moments and then the anti-virus software threw a wobbly and jammed everything up. Remove and replace software and generally fiddle about with machine. Remember that I know nothing about the inner workings so this was a leap in the dark. Blow me down it was working,
hooray. I then discovered that the computer no longer recognised the compact camera, or
visa versa, and I could not download my pictures.
Nil desperandum, I raked around and unearthed the card reader I had bravely purchased when I discovered that the D.S.L.R. and the compact (Both Canon) would not download with the same software. Everything was hunky dory until five days ago when the card would no longer fit in the reader, examination showed that one of the contacts in the reader had snapped off. Call me paranoid if you like but it looks like a deliberate conspiracy to me.
Today we went through to Southam and I found a card reader in a stationary shop, trouble is it will only take the small card from the compact so I now have two card readers.
Enough of my persecution complex.
Last Friday, the ice having thinned, we set off up Hillmorton Locks. Jill grabbed her trusty windlass and left me in charge of the boat.
As I came into the bottom lock my good lady told me the locksides were far to slippery for her and as soon as the boat was up we were changing places. So I blew the cobwebs off of my windlass and set to with a will.
On the top gates of the middle lock, the new beams carry what is described as poetry. As is well known my middle name is Philistine so perhaps I am not qualified to comment, but I rather liked it.
It had a real wintry look as we approached the top lock.
Why is it that so many of the ladies do not like steering through the locks? They claim it's because they don't have the confidence but it's my belief it's because they like a gossip with the other lady lock workers.
As we approached Braunston the low sun clearly showed the medieval ridge and furrow.
Out on the puddle banks yet another old boat has met a watery end. Clearly a conversion of the front end of a wooden working boat, a sad way to finish what has clearly been a long career.
We are now in Wigram's Turn Marina. Going to be here for a while as we are away for Christmas and still await news about Jill's cataract removal.
Watch this space...............
1 comment:
I wouldn't bet on it being the end for this boat, I think its the third time that she has sunk on this bit of canal, let alone before she arrived with a good watermark on her.
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