When I picked her up at the lower lock landing I innocently asked how many turns of the wheel it took to lower and raise the gate. Well the language was deplorable, but basically she queried if I was stupid enough to think she was about to start counting turns when the rain was trickling down her neck and her arms were dropping off. Obviously I was.
Eventually we reached a compromise, I lowered the gate and she raised it and do you know what? I never counted the turns either.
We finally stopped a just below Thrapston on the E.A. moorings and it turned into a beautiful evening.
And apparently the name of the river is now pronounced Neen, not Nenn. Don't ask me, I haven't a clue.
Watch this space.........