The peregrinations, both geographical and mental, of Graham & Jill on narrowboat Armadillo. It being a hodge-podge or gallimaufrey of travels, thoughts and frequently inaccurate facts.
Monday, 28 January 2013
A stroll down Buckby Locks and I get a bit misty eyed.
Hooray etc. The ice has gone so yesterday we transited the marina to the services for pump out, diesel, coal and gas. Full house. It was quite fun as it was blowing a gale but we survived, mind you the bill nigh on gave me a coronary.
To escape the cabin fever we took a trip out to Buckby locks, it was only a twenty minute drive, sometimes I almost like cars.
What a sad sight at the top of the locks, The New Inn closed and boarded up. It always seemed to be a busy place with a friendly welcome and a decent pint. A sign of the times? Are we becoming less sociable? Too idle to leave the comfort of the T.V. and the computer? It all seems a great shame.
The locks are closed at the moment for work on the flight, hence the work boat tied across the canal.
There was plenty of water coming over the gates on the flight. Even though in places there was still a covering of ice.
A contrast in bridges. The bottom one carries the West Coast Main Line north to the land of the haggis and the kilt. This must have been a place to sit and watch the world go by when the Royal Scot and the Duchess class hauled the L.M.S. expresses and the Grand Junction was busy with the sound of Bolinders and the colours of roses and castles.
How many changes have these seen? All these bits of sculpture and murals that crowd along the towpath these days are fine but this is the true sculpture of the canals.
The second to bottom lock of the flight is undergoing heavy repairs and the bottom pound
is virtually dry, so if you have ever wondered what the bottom of the cut looks like.......
The last remaining side pounds on the flight. Once a water saving device, now just a curiosity.
At one point we actually passed a grump group of anglers fishing in between the ice floes. Now I enjoy a bit of maggot drowning as much as the next man but there are limits. Their total catch? The square root of b*****r all.