Ducks and a poem, including notes on Old English.

On our last day on the G.U. we passed steam tug Adamant. She's definitely an impressive looking beast. Actually she is a replica of a steam tunnel tug, the hull is made from the stern ends of two B.N.C. "Joey" boats with a new cabin and counter. The steam plant is a Cochrane of Birkenhead two cylinder compound from the end of the 19thC. The boiler is of the vertical fire tube type built in 1986.

After negotiating Wigram's Turn we moored out in the country near Flecknoe for the weekend.

Lovely moorings but absolutely no 'phone signal and therefore no internet. I'm getting as bad as the kids, no mobile and I start twitching, missing my daily dose of Facebook etc.
The stretch of G.U./Oxford between Wigrams and Braunston Turn must be the busiest on the system, a continual stream of boats all weekend.

Didn't seem to put this little family of though, every time we poked our heads out of the side hatch they headed for us like miniature speed boats. Sorry kids, no bread, it's not good for you. they did love Rice Krispies though.
On Monday we managed, by dint of standing on the roof, to raise enough signal to contact the local dentist, both of us being in need of dental sorting, and fix up an appointment. So we moved down to Wigram's Turn Marina, expecting to stay for a few days. It turns out that the course of treatment is going to last for several weeks, usual routine, a succession of appointments. So it looks like we will be here for a while.

Amongst the surfeit of Mallards around the marina we have a Tufted Duck and her solitary duckling, it really is the scruffiest looking duckling we've ever seen.
Yesterday, whilst shopping in Southam we purchased some eggs, described on the carton as "Happy Eggs", which gave me pause for thought and, from some deep recess of the mind, there sprang a poem, possibly written by Chaucer.

"How sad ye life of ye new laid egg,
His fate is dark and dire.
For he cometh out of the frying pan
And goeth into ye fryer."

It should be noted that "y" is not a Y but actually "Thorn" an Old English character pronounced as "th".

Watch this space...

Long Itchington plus a pirate ship.

Long Itchington has always been one of those places we pass through without bothering to actually walk up to the village. This time we decided that we would make the effort.

On the hottest July day on record we found some rather nice half-timbered buildings

and a rather more modern one that sported a rather interesting English Heritage blue plaque.

Hmmm!

The church proved to be the only cool spot on a sweltering day.

Boards like this, detailing charitable donations left in a will are not unusual in churches but the donations recorded on this one were a bit different to the usual cash gift. Both Elizabeth and Edmond had left one share in the Warwick and Birmingham Canal, the dividends from which were to go to the trustees of the Long Itchington charity school to support the school. Sorry about the reflection on the board. It was right next to a window and was catching the light.
Just by the church there is a rather fine old pub, The Harvester. We partook of a refreshing pint in this most friendly hostelry and having perused the menu decided to return in the evening for dinner. It was a good decision. The Fillet Steak Rossini was amazing and Jill says her Sirloin Chasseur was equally good. So if you are ever feeling peckish in Long Itchington that is the place to head for. Good beer as well.

Jill's latest cross stitch. Another masterpiece. One day we will get them framed although I don't think we have enough wall space to display them all.

A couple of details from it.

Watch this space...

Moon, spoon and June.

I've been playing with the new camera. Not bad for a hand held compact. Taken while hanging out of the side hatch last night, so it was still June.

It's my birthday treat, I get to lick the bowl out and eat the finished product.
As today is going to be the hottest day of the year we are going to need lots of fluids. I make it about five rehydration centres in Long Itchington. Could be a long day.

Watch this space...

The dangers of addiction.

We watered at the top of Cape Locks and then set of through Leamington Spa.

This is a dangerous building, the home of Kate Boats, our favoured hire boats in days of yore. Too many visits and we were addicted. Just look where that has left us, permanently bound to a wandering life, people of no fixed abode, itinerants. So beware, it could happen to you.
After a quick stop at the convenient canal side Tescos for a top up we moved on.

Crossing the aqueduct over the Avon. There are plans to one day connect the canal to the river about here, if the riparian owners of the river agree to letting boats traverse the stretch from Alveston Weir. As far as I can make out that will be about the same time as hell freezes over.

The evening stop is across the meadows from Radford Semele church which is keeping us entranced with that most quintessential of English sounds, the bell ringers at practice.
Shortly after mooring, in the distance, came the unmistakeable sound of a steam whistle.

President making her way back from the Braunston Rally.

Watch this space...

A bit of Aaahh!

Having sat the day out near, but not in, the Cape of Good Hope we really don't have much to entertain the viewing public but, leaning out of the side hatch, we took a couple of photo's.

Lots of Aaahhh! factor here.

Watch this space...

Hatton, just about sums today up.

It had to come. Today we tackled The Stairway to Heaven; or as we were descending perhaps it was to somewhat warmer regions. Who knows?

But first came Shrewley Tunnel with its odd horse tunnel taking the towpath through alongside the main tunnel. I am unable to work out the thinking behind this. Surely it would have been cheaper just to take the horses over the hill. Or if there were some problem with that it would have made more sense to widen the canal tunnel and provide a towpath alongside the canal. I'm quite happy with the current set up though; just one more little quirk of the wonder that is the inland waterways.

The top of the Hatton Flight with their statuesque paddle gear. We watered and waited at the top but alas no other boat appeared to share the hard graft of the descent.

Those lock chambers are large and lonely for a boat on its own.

As you descend there is plenty of evidence of the old single locks that were replaced by the wide locks in the modernisation of the nineteen-thirties. This is one wall of the chamber of the old top lock complete with gate recess and the date 1893 and the lock number, Hatton number 1.

A lot of the old chambers have found a new use as by-washes for the newer locks.
Fortunately, after a couple of locks we were met by another of C&RT's splendid volunteers who set off lock wheeling for us which decreased the work load and increased the speed of our transit.

Not a volunteer as such but the other vital part of Armadillo's crew. Not just great at locks but beautiful as well. XXX  And a damn good cook.
The C&RT chap then said would we hang on as there was a boat a couple of locks behind us and it would make life better all round if we shared the locks and so we were joined by Hermes,

out from the Black Boy Cruising Club for the weekend.
Well we fairly flew down the rest of the flight and were soon passing the cottage by the bottom lock.

Having reached the bottom of the flight there was only one place to head for.

The Cape of Good Hope. Odd name for a pub in Warwick, especially as it is currently run by New Zealanders. But they fed and watered us splendidly.

Watch this space...

Brief summing up.

Today it rained. We stayed put.