Feels Like Home

The soulful tunes of Norah Jones’s “Feels Like Home” is playing softly in the background on the antiquated CD player, a freshly poured glass of gin and tonic is pleasant company along with sounds of the ocean conversing with the sands situated just beyond the caravan park and with my feet up, seated outside the van, I am alone but certainly not lonely.

The gin is a Christmas gift from Daryl, purchased and then imported from England, it is a subtle reminder of good times in my recent memory. The beach, certainly the sounds emanating from its shore, fills me with a sense of belonging, peace and permission to indulge in the world of words whether it be through reading a novel or three or tapping away at my laptop as I am doing now. A perfect way to begin a brief sojourn from the real world. I am most fortunate and a little selfish, to be here. Daryl has just driven back towards the farm, with work commitments making his stay brief but I hope he would say enjoyable. Just the two of us, kids and friends were banned and we took 24 hours out of ordinary life. Later my longtime friend and her two young teens will arrive, tomorrow, my twin sons and daughter, with little people in tow, will join me and the van will be full of stuff and noise once again. I am looking forward to it all, but for now, I will relish in the serenity.  

Hot on the tail of a busy Christmas day, last night we strolled on the beach, watched the sunset and spoke with family from England, whose day was just about to begin. It is so easy now to keep in touch and we were thrilled they were home, albeit rugged up to fend away the winter chill, while we were in shorts and thongs. Our own day was filled with family festivities beginning on Christmas eve as we prepared our contributions to the day in the form of pavlova’s (Daryl's specialty) and roast turkey (my specialty), all the while entertaining two granddaughters so their parents could prepare and assemble gifts too big to fit under the Christmas tree. Celebrations began in the early afternoon, with a visit across the road where the cats will be holidaying for a week, their placement was the perfect opportunity to share a drink and gifts with our neighbour and some of her family, visiting from interstate. The little girls were very happy to play with two other girls and made fast friends. The cats settled, although I doubt they will thank me for their temporary relocation. The catch ups continued to Churchill and ended at the traditional Christmas eve dinner with most of Daryl’s family. Loads of food, kids running amuck is usual and a visit from Santa on his firetruck was a treat for all the little ones. The biggest treat however, by far, was the surprise appearance of my son Damien, who showed up from sunny Queensland, rendering me speechless for a few moments. With my eyes stinging with tears, I thought my legs would give way as I went to him, hugging him so tightly, we could barely breathe. I miss him so much and his unexpected visit seems to have been a carefully guarded secret within my own clan. As I prepared for Christmas morning, knowing all my babies would all be present was a priceless gift, and I couldn’t help smiling as we stuffed stockings well past midnight in readiness for an early start. Despite the fact my youngest baby is 19, they still get a childish buzz out of their Santa stockings, which is now carried onto their own children (without relinquishing their own!). Continuing with family traditions Christmas breakfast was a feast shared with special friends, who

we count as family, a visit from twin Santa’s and the exchanging of many gifts and letters. It is my choice to write each of the grandchildren a letter each Christmas, although they cannot yet read, I hope this will be something they will cherish many years down the track. The reality of feeding 30 odd people is never easy but I have to say my son and his partner did a sterling job getting it all together, and with a little help from the rest of us, we enjoyed copious amounts of fare and a drop of celebratory sparkles and ale. Onward, we arrived at the next feast sharing this part with Daryl’s son’s in-laws. A quieter affair it was just lovely, especially with the addition of their first child, who at only six weeks of age, was oblivious to all the fuss around him.

It was then time to pack and make our way to the van. Our place of rest and relaxation (interspersed with a few housekeeping jobs here and there). It had taken some convincing to get Daryl here for only one night, but he did and it was a good idea.

Sitting here now, I am part way through my drink, the air is slightly cooler and the families around me are filling the air with the fragrance of camp food, namely sausages on the barbeque. The magpies are attentive in the hope of an easy feed, while I can hear the hammering of pegs into the ground where the newest arrivals set up their campsites. Despite the third year of drought, the parks ground is relatively easy to hammer into, and we also spent a short time getting our outdoor flooring and gazebo in place earlier today, providing us shelter but also privacy and protection from the westerly winds, known to rise up and batter sites at its will.

I will see the New Year in from here and will be joined by Daryl, some friends and anyone else who chooses to come up. It will be a causal event, with a roast on the Weber, drinks and a game or two of cards. I expect we will see the New Year fireworks from the shores of Red Bluff and will ignore the crowds who will gather at Lakes Entrance. This is my kind of party, with as little fuss and fanfare as possible in the company of good friends and family. If you’re wondering who looks after the farm while we do all this relaxing, despair not, the animals are well tendered to with our trusty farm-sitter employed to watch over the ever-browning grass, the flock of hens, their protector alpacas and our small herd of cows with their young calves, in our absence. At last count we had 15 young babies running around, kicking up a lot of dust, so before we left the morass was opened and they all hoofed it down the paddock to feed on the green grass amongst the gum trees that will provide them with ample shelter in the upcoming days of heat. Temperatures forecast in the low 40’s are becoming more common and with bushfires already burning across thousands of hectares of Australia we are always mindful of the risks during the summer season. This year our fire season started early, interstate, with a ferocity we have not experienced for some years. For now, we are fine but vigilant.

The opportunity to take a break also gives a chance to put the paint brushes down and leave the chaos of house renovations for a time. They are coming along with the new kitchen now functional and I must say, looking fabulous, with our red gum bench tops and new oven. The laundry has also had a makeover and is not only more pleasing to the eye, it is far more functional. Never a fan of painting, I am enduring the process and grateful for every moment of assistance from family and friends. The process, like many major life events, has been the catalyst of a few flared tempers and fiery exchanges between Daryl and I in recent weeks fuelled by the end of the year fatigue and my resignation from my job, I am pleased to say we have made it through relatively unscathed. Leaving my former employer of three years was another major decision but I have no doubt it was a good choice given the instant relief of tension from my body and mind once I said a final farewell. Blessed to have secured another job I am excited about a different future.

With a new decade knocking on our figurative door, I am hopeful 2020 will bring opportunities for change, challenge and contemplation. I turn 50 next year and while this is not a significant event for some – it is for me.

Whatever 2020 means for you I hope it is just perfect.

Until next time,

N

October 8th - 5,270,400 seconds

It is exactly two months or eight weeks or 61 days, 1464 hours, 87,840 minutes or 5,270,400 seconds since we returned home from our holiday adventure to the U.K. Exactly the same period of time we spent touring around and living the proverbial dream. 

With grand plans to create a photo memory book, write letters back to our family and a number of other activities to record and relive those magical memories, our reality is quite different.
Returning home, exhausted from the long-haul flight we spent the night in Melbourne, barely slept before being picked up by family for the final drive to the farm.

Tonight, I am sitting here, reflecting and wishing we were wandering around the Scottish Highlands, even though I suspect it would be rather chilly. Instead we are slowly preparing for our kitchen renovation, set for the first week in November, along with a laundry rebuild, painting and reflooring of the west end of the house.  The cupboards, stove, sinks and fittings have been selected, most purchased before our trip to ensure we were ready to go. Paint options are still up for discussion as are splash backs, fan styles and floor colours. Keeping in the theme of renovations and repairs, the beach van continues to get a facelift and it is quickly becoming a place of choice, drawing me to the ocean air and sandy shores; washing away the gradual build-up of melancholy and confliction which continues to cover me, like a fine mist, that I don’t notice until my clothes are damp. The van is slowly, with the help of friends, transforming into a place of solace, rest and rejuvenation. One of my good decisions.

One of our not so good decisions however, recently included running cattle through the yards in strong winds. Behaving a little crazy, we noticed their heightened behaviour as we herded them into the cattle yards. They kicked and yahooed, bovine style, eventually conceding defeat as we shut the gate behind the last one. Unfortunately, our dramas did not end there. After dealing with infected injections sites, squeezing puss from swollen lumps and repeatedly avoiding slamming the crush bar into my face, the worse was still to come. The guttural scream emitted from Daryl as he was slammed against the steel fence by one of our Angus cows, weighing approximately 500 kgs. sent shivers down my spine and I felt the tightening of my heart, for a brief, eternal moment, as I expected the worse. Relieved to see he had been released by the quick thinking of our friend Zac, Daryl was scarred but not permanently damaged. I realised at that I had lost my courage, for working stock and fear instead, had set in. Previously, in Daryl’s absence I had started trying to funnel the herd into the race, each time they turned I was acutely aware of my own frailty, I knew I couldn’t get out of the way quick enough, I can no longer jump onto the yard railings to escape their hard heads, or side step a quick strike from their back legs as they refuse to walk down towards the crush. Despite my large length of poly-pipe I was stuck and fearful for my safety. Redundant really, at least, as a farmer of cows. 

 Perception is without doubt a powerful potent. 

The paddocks are green, at least from a distance, they look lush but as we walk through them, it is evident the drought is not over and the patches of dirt unable to produce a blade of grass remind us of the effects of the dry. Funnily the morass is flooded and the mosquitoes are in a frenzied space. No amount of repellent will keep the critters away, leaving us with welts to thank us for venturing out. The snakes are also on the move and I suspect we shall see more of them as the temperatures rise.

 On a brighter note, we have replenished our flock of hens and it is most enjoyable to have them run to us and say hello anytime we go into their pen. Slowly the egg count is building and we look forward to sharing our lovely produce with family, friends and acquaintances. 

It’s now the start of Spring and I have celebrated another birthday, we have well and truly settled back into normality and the frustrations and joys of our daily lives fill each moment. The bees survived winter and they are busily filling their hive with pollen and making sweet nectar for us to collect in due course. The fruit trees that survived the bitter frosts are now in bud, although it appears we have lost two more and all our citrus. Our tractor is fixed and our All-Terrain Vehicle has been given a thorough check up. The motorbike is still temperamental and only works with a lot of help, but the ride-on mower is at least now working again after tire issues. We have purchased a run around car and the old Ford ute now rests in the hayshed, used only for farm functions. The increasing cost of fuel was a driving factor to change the way we commute.

Our youngest is finishing her final year of school, exam prep is well and well truly underway. Her determination and drive to succeed is reminiscent of a younger version of myself and I am so very proud of her. She is also in the final stages of preparation for another extended adventure overseas in the new year. How I miss the enthusiasm of youth and the energy that springs from hope. Today, I feel older than my years, clouded in my views, and small, despite my expanded holiday-waistline.  Maybe in another 5,270,400 seconds things will be different. 

Until next time,

N

Family

Family, or at least the definition there of, has always brought with it a mix of complicated emotions for me. It has never been easy for me to define my place in this space and the many contributing factors simply confounded my anxiety and lack of confidence. So, it was with these shadows of doubt, that Daryl and I made plans to travel to the UK, returning my father to his homeland and enabling us to meet a family we barely knew.

The last five days of our trip we spent immersed in family life as we explored the Welsh countryside and on our last day I found myself grieving to be leaving a group of people, who once were strangers, that have imbedded themselves into my life and heart. I am left wondering what life might have been like if my father had the courage to return to Wales, so many years before and during my childhood and youth; I suspect it would have been better.

Welcomed with open doors and arms we met a collective of family members during lunches, dinners, endless cups of teas, and a variety of alcoholic drinks. We celebrated, grieved, and reminisced together, shared stories and even removed a few skeletons from the closest as we discovered and nurtured a connection that will now remain stronger from the great south land of Australia all the way to Great Britain.

We were blessed to be shown some of the remarkable landmarks of Wales including another steam train journey ( I know, you are shocked at this revelation), this time on the Ffestiniog locomotive with Charles and Karen. Travelling first class, such a treat, I have to say, we enjoyed magnificent views from the observation carriage, plush royal blue seats and service with a smile from a young woman of middle eastern descent. Serving gin and tonic while the steam train chugs its way up the mountain is no easy task. The Ffestiniog travels through the heartland of Wales between Porthmadog, an historic harbour town, and Blaenau Ffestiniog, known as the town that roofed the world, where you can see the remains of the slate mines.
While on the subject of views we were also treated to Harlech castle, built in the 1200’s that looks out over Irish Sea on the edge of the delightful village it is named after. Harlech is also now famous for having the steepest street in the world with a gradient of 37.45% according to the Guinness world records.
Finishing the day we found ourselves dining at Lake Vyrnwy and it is impossible to describe this resplendent location. The lake, with water as still as glass, is vast and couched by the mountains. As the sun set over the water and the restaurant lights reflected in the shadows it was a photographers dream. Unfortunately, the still evening and balmy temperatures also sent an invitation to the midges and they were very friendly. Tiny little creatures, like sand flies, that bite, we quickly returned inside where they could no longer feast on us.
We journeyed through Bala, a picturesque village where many of the Welsh family live, enjoying lunch at the local pub, delicious I must say, before heading up to the farm. Visiting this property is like going to the top of the world, with panoramic views and what seems like endless acres of lush green pastures. Hugh, the patriarch of the family, is the most down to earth, proud farmer, I have met for a long time. A recipient of many awards for his prize winning sheep and cattle, he is passionate about the land, his family legacy and the community he overlooks. Featured on Welsh television, he is indeed quite the star. He took us on a farm tour in the pick-up (ute for the Aussie folk) and we were followed by his wife Lin and daughter, Lowrie driving the quad bike, opening the gates for us along the way. With its own weather pattern, the poor ladies were wet by the end of the tour from the rain that decided to follow us. Comparing our black Angus to his Welsh black cows, it is coincidental that we have such similar stock. He sought after rams watched with interest as we drove through their paddock, but really seemed far too content to be bothered by us at all. Three Collie puppies bounded up to greet us after our trek and I suspect the temptation to take one home was strong for Charles, eagerly encouraged by us all. At eight weeks old, these pups are a bundle of cuteness. I’m not convinced Lowrie is in any hurry to part with them. Returning to their home, some 400 years old, it is amazing to sit in their renovated kitchen, drinking a hot coffee and marvel at the history within its walls.
Of special note was the family gathering organised on the Saturday. This was particularly moving, given it was scheduled simply because we were there and we were delighted this was reason enough for the majority of the clan to get together. Reminiscent of gatherings at home, we ate too much, drank enough and there was even some healthy competition happening over the badminton net. Conversation flowed as fast as the drinks and the children (big and small) were happily entertained by a jumping castle. With the music playing and the sun shining, we relished the chance to be a part of this warm and wonderful family.
Sadly, like all good things, our time quickly ran out, we wonder where the eight weeks have gone as it seems like such a short time ago that we embarked on our big adventure. I have no doubt we will return to this beautiful part of the world. Wales has so much to offer and I hope we will explore more on our next trip.
By some miracle we managed to get all our souvenirs, gifts and even most of our clothes packed and under the baggage weight limit, although a few items of clothing were donated to the local hospice.
Our final journey to the Manchester airport was without delay or incident. Daryl and I were both awake long before the early set alarm, despite a restless night, with my mind already jumping from farm to work and of course the children waiting for us.
From one family, we return to another, eager to see their familiar faces and embrace them. Home will be welcomed and we hope one day we will welcome our British family to our own doors.
Until next time,
N

A Royal day to complete our London adventure

London left us in a state of exhilarated exhaustion by the time we left Euston train station late Thursday afternoon. Returning to our family base at Ellesmere, we were very happy to find our seats and start the three hour journey. We were up before the alarm set for 5.30 am and made our way to the Greenwich ferry for the very last time. This time travelling by cab we arrived in time to get on the early ferry and before we knew it we were leaving our bags in storage and heading towards the Tower of London for the early bird tour, but not before a quick breakfast. The only cafe open was of the chain variety where everything comes pre packaged. The food was quite disappointing and the coffee terrible, the floors still showed the signs of yesterday’s customers, and the toilet was out of order. All was not lost however, as we found the public facilities nearby, costing 50p for the pleasure. Given we only had one suitable coin, we got to share the experience!

Despite our collective aversion to group tours, we booked into the Tower of a London VIP Early Access and Best of Royal London Tour commencing at 8.15am. We started at the Tower of London and enjoyed a tour of the centre and the Crown Jewels long before the masses of tourists engulfed the attraction. We witnessed the opening ceremony conducted by the Beefeaters. The Yeoman (colloquially known as Beefeaters) who did our introduction was a tad on the grouchy side and I suspect he had not yet had his morning coffee. After warning us of the perils of carrying valuables within easy access for skilled pick-pockets who frequent the area, he allowed us to roam free. Curious about the origins of the name Beefeater we were advised it was thought to be because the Yeoman's of the early days were paid in beef! The Tower of London has, like many historic landmarks of this city, an incredibly violent and dark history. After the Tower we hopped on a ferry and cruised the Thames in time to disembark and enjoy a walking tour through the Horse Guards to watch the traditional Changing of the Guard ceremony. Hundreds of people gathered to watch along with numerous police holding semi automatic rifles. The show was quite spectacular, with very disciplined soldiers and horses putting on quite a show. Certainly a very ancient tradition, it seemed a bit out of place in today’s modern world, but it certainly is a tourist attraction worth doing. After watching this display we continued our walk towards the Royal Mall and visited the site of St James’ Palace where Princess Anne currently lives, Clarendon House and finally Buckingham Palace. We were treated to a visit by a band of alleged pick-pocketers strolling though with little travel suitcases as they passed through crowds of distracted tourists, including us. With all our belongings in tact we continued on regardless. Once we arrived at Buckingham Palace four hours later, our official tour ended and as we were already booked in for the Buckingham Palace self guided tour an hour later, we headed towards the nearest cafe for some lunch. Finding a reasonable looking cafe/restaurant we were pleased to find an inviting menu and friendly staff. We were also entertained by another couple on the next table, who struggling with their English, finally managed to get the waitress to understand they wanted to take half their meal away for later. This was clearly not the usual practice and I am not sure the establishment were too pleased.
Buckingham Palace security was like going through the airport and it was a slow process, but I have to say very thorough. You will note there are only external photos from this part of our holiday as no photography is allowed once inside the palace walls. We were fortunate enough to be in town while the palace was open, due to the queen being away at Balmoral, and took the opportunity to look inside an authentic, working palace. Noted as the official residence of the monarchy since Queen Victoria’s time, it houses an extensive collection of art works and period furniture. We visited the 19 state rooms and were in awe of the opulent surroundings we found ourselves in. Her Majesty welcomes over 50,000 guests at state banquets, formal dinners, lunches, receptions and garden parties each year, while a further 500,000 people visit during the summer season. The palace has 775 rooms, which include the 19 state rooms we visited, 52 Royal and guest bedrooms, 92 offices and 78 bathrooms! Imagine cleaning all of these along with the 760 windows and 1514 doors. The gardens cover 16 hectares. I’m not sure how many staff are employed but I’d suggest, rather a lot. Our tour, with individual headsets took us over two hours, as we marvelled at the size of the palace and the attention to detail in each room. We entered through the Grand Staircase and followed in the footsteps of many famous and distinguished guests who have been invited to the palace. The Green Drawing room was next and this leads into the Throne Room, which we are more familiar with as it is the room where the official Royal photographs are taken for weddings. Walking into the Ballroom it is easy to imagine grand receptions being held in this place. We then went through to the State Dining Room, the White Drawing Room, the Bow Room and many more until we exited into the gardens to enjoy a cup of tea on the back patio with hundreds of our closest friends! The set up for the summer visitors is impressive in itself with marquees set up, including a gift shop, cloak room, cafe, and photo room for guests to relax after their tour. The staff situated along the way are a wealth of knowledge and happy to engage in conversation, so well worth stopping to chat if you have the chance.
Despite our reservations about doing a palace tour, we both left feeling pleased that we spent the money and took advantage of the opportunity. We may never make it back here again.

With our royal visit over, it was time to start our journey away from London towards Wales/England. The underground was hot and crowded but the trains were efficient. We only made one error during our change overs, but quickly managed to rectify the travels plans with minimal delay. Just after 9pm our train arrived in Gobowen and were delighted to see Charles who had come to pick us up. Returning to Ellesmere to the home of Charles and Karen was like coming home with a warm welcome and lots of stories to share.

Until next time,
N

Greenwich, West End, and waiting

Greenwich market was our first stop on Tuesday, a day that presented us with the challenges of holidaying despite the rain. Glad to be undercover we were greeted by a very small market and somewhat surprised by the few stalls displaying their goods. Most vendors were hidden beneath their counters, lowdown on chairs playing on their phone. Not sure this method of customer engagement will achieve many sales. One fellow was especially friendly, Dan, a collector of antiques, was full of morning cheer and he happily chatted about his goods and Instagram account. The aroma of spices mixed with freshly ground coffee beans filled the air and our senses where overwhelmed as we made way for the exit without a single purchase.

Dodging the rain puddles rapidly rising along the footpath, as much as possible, we walked quickly, without an umbrella, towards the ferry. With little shelter available we were relieved when the ferry arrived on time. The rain continued steadily throughout the morning so after finding a luggage storage facility near Tower Bridge, in preparation for our departure on Thursday, we got a little wetter before relenting and buying a dodgy tourist umbrella. There was little choice but to board a bus and tour the city away from the continuous downpour. Our tour guide, Lizzy, was knowledgeable and displayed great patience dealing with the man from Rhode Island, USA who persisted in asking question after question after question, from politics to the state of homelessness and the number of tourists in London on any given day. Our bus journey took us past a range of interesting points including Big Ben, Harrods Department Store, Military of Defence, St. James’s Gardens and Palace and Tower of a London. Of interest was the location of Elton John’s private residence when he stays in London, the top two floors of a rather understated hotel. We learned that staff of Buckingham palace all live there rent free, except for the gardeners who are required to provide fresh flowers to the palace each Monday morning, in return of their board and lodgings. We went as near as possible to the palace however, no buses were able to pass in front of as the Queen is noted to have have said she found them ugly. Currently, Buckingham Palace has the Union Flag flying which indicates that the Queen is not in residence. When she is present the Royal Standard flies high. We didn’t fuss too much about the Royal residence as we will be touring there later.

Travelling along the Thames, it was interesting to learn that it once used the be the city’s toilet and was officially declared biologically dead in 1957 due to pollution level being so bad, that the oxygen levels in the water could not support any life. Now the river is a very different place, and is one of the cleanest city waterways in the world. Thankfully people no longer pass out from the fumes emitted from the river, as they once did, all thanks to a man named Joseph Bazalgette who designed the London sewage system way back in 1866. The same man tried to win the tender for the Tower Bridge but his design was not selected. Interestingly the London sewage system is now undergoing major expansion as it can no longer cope effectively with the nine million residents and the thousands of visitors to the city each day. We have walked many miles within London city and the smell wafting through the drain grates is definitely on the nose. Coupled with the rubbish piling up for collection on the pavement it isn’t the most pleasing sight or smell.

Back to the Thames which is much narrower now, after again Joseph determined that it would be more efficient if it was deeper and narrower, so a large width of land was reclaimed and achieved a number of advantages. One was that the river no longer froze over and boats were able to sail into port and provide Londoners with goods needed right on their doorstep. This made the merchant traders happy and in modern times allowed for the building of better roads and walkways. Our tour took us past a number of schools in the district, notably named after the coats the children wore to school, such as Blue coat and Grey coat. As many of the parents were illiterate the coat colour reference allowed them to know which group to send their children along with as they walked to school. Some of the schools no longer operate as educational premises and are now pubs, retaining the name to give a little extra historical appeal to the thirsty traveller.

At the other end of town we drove past some of the most expensive hotels in London, including the Lanesborough Hotel, the second most expensive establishment in London, where can stay for a princely sum of £26,000 a night and has a three night minimum stay, but breakfast will cost you extra. The most expensive hotel was just up the road and while we did not see it, our guide informed us that Ghandi used to stay there and as he only drank goats milk, the owner of the hotel kept one in the yard, just in case he decided to visit. We drove around Hyde Park, a former hunting ground for the royals and named after an old measurement for land. The ‘hide’ was an English unit of land measurement originally intended to represent the amount of land sufficient to support a household. Hyde park is 0.547 square miles.
Tired of travelling on the bus, which was crowded with fellow tourists, dripping and whiney, we decided to make our way to the famous Madame Tussaud’s and rub shoulders with the rich and famous or infamous in some cases.
Our experience was nothing short of entertaining in a twisted kind of way. Lining up to get our ticket we then had to line up again, around the corner, only to be told it was too early and too come back later. With time now to spare, we went to the nearest eatery and lined up again to eat some decidedly dodgy fare called lasagne and roast, watery hot chocolate and tasteless tea all for a healthy whack of pounds (in fact the only healthy item in the cafe was the cost!) At this stage Daryl was less than impressed with the system for gaining entry, the time wasted waiting and I hoped very much he would at least enjoy the museum, which he was not so excited about going to see, once inside. Finally, the moment arrived and it was hard to distinguish between the humans of flesh and those of wax. Despite the mass of people trying to get their photo we managed to get to all the models and admired the craftsmanship and attention to detail, very much. The highlight of the visit was indeed the The Spirit of London black cab tour, a bit like a very tame roller coaster ride. It was just fantastic and we both marvelled at the displays. We enjoyed the wax replicas for so many iconic shows and people including Star Wars, X-Men, Shrek, The Hulk, Justice League, Alien (me not so much), the Royals (past and present), The Beatles, and the politicians, inventors, peacemakers, artists, Justice League, a range of pop stars and finally her majesty with whom you could sit and have tea, if you so chose to. We really did leave the museum smiling and pleased we made the effort. I even forgave Daryl for tricking me into thinking I was blocking a photo shoot, only to discover the photographer was a little waxy. The history of Madame Tussaud’s is fascinating and now an international icon. First started in the late 1700’s by the history of this establishment is long and dramatic with fires, executed heads and imprisonments part of the story.

Determined to enjoy the West End, while in London, we had purchased tickets to the famous Agatha Christie murder mystery stage show “Mousetrap” which has been performed non stop for 67 years that night. With some time to fill until the opening curtain, we planned to hop back onto the tourist bus and make our way to Leicester Square. After waiting a good 20 minutes, we both got impatient (shocked, I’m sure you are) and decided to walk. Google said it was only a short walk - Google lied.

Contending with the end of day pedestrian traffic, uneven pavements, scaffolding encroaching onto the footpaths and more tourists than you can poke a proverbial stick at, the walk was a little tedious. Intermittent showers of rain, kept us cool, at least physically, but my legs were screaming and we needed to find a spot to rest. About three quarters of the way along we saw a bizarre little cafe/bar/restaurant on the corner of the road called Mr Fogg’s House of Botanicals. With ferns and flowers cascading down the shop walls and windows, it looked like a place we needed to visit. Upon opening the door, it was like stepping back in time onto the set of a peculiar movie with all manner of flora and fauna on display.The overwhelming scent of a spring garden, filled with exotic flowers of all colours assaulted your senses like the wind in a ferocious storm. You really did have to take a moment to catch your breath and take in the surroundings. When you do, you will notice the intriguing displays of fauna collected by Mr Fogg, including foxes, rabbits, roosters and birds. The menu is in-line with the theme of the premises, so when I couldn’t get my usual gin, I decide to try one of their signature drinks - Gully of Ferns. Made up of Bombay sapphire gin, Italicus bergamot liqueur, lemon verbena, Fentimans rose lemonade, and rhubarb bitters it was simply delicious. While we admired and enjoyed our surrounding the rain fell heavily outside, so we were thankful for the rest. I would have had another Gully of Ferns except the cost was a little prohibitive.
On time, we made our way to St Martin’s Theatre and prepared ourselves to be intrigued and entertained. And that we were. We now join the club of thousands of other theatre goers, who know ‘whodunnit’ but I am sworn to secrecy. The theatre at 103 years old, is small by modern standards and the rows are steep, the seats are narrow and everyone is a little cosy but it is charming, especially the sloping toilet floor. By the time we made it back to our hotel, via taxi, it was close to midnight and we were feeling the pains of burning the candle at both ends.

Portobello Road market and some high class window shopping along Oxford Street was on our agenda for Wednesday. We spent a significant amount of time waiting for transport, first on the ferry, then the bus, before walking to the market, eventually arriving around lunchtime. While we enjoyed a stroll, seeing the sites and admiring some of the houses, the market itself was a little underwhelming. I have no doubt it would be bubbling on weekends, but for us it was quite sedate. A highlight however, was the spotting (obsessed groupie style searching more like it) of key locations from the movie Notting Hill. We did locate the shop that inspired the Travel Bookstore, the location of the shop that was turned into the Travel Bookstore and most notably the blue door. Daryl loved every moment of it, be sure to ask him about it, next time you see him.
Going from the junk stalls full of souvenirs to the overpriced, pretentious halls of Oxford Street, we went to Selfridges, whose exterior building is quite magnificent and tea is worth queuing for, apparently. I did find a lovely watch that I considered buying, but when I found the identical item online for a sixth of the price, I figured I’d give it a miss. Early on we decided not to bother with Harrods and when we drove past it the previous day, noticed the chandeliers, and figured it was out of our league.
Clearly department store shopping, no matter how famous, is not our preference so we went in search of more favourable entertainment. Somehow we arrived back in Leicester Square at the ticket booth for last minute tickets. A musical in mind we bought seats to The Tina Turner Musical . Held at the Aldwych Theatre, this lovely centre opened in 1905 and in provided the perfect settings for this incredible show. Three hours of storytelling, through song and dance left us forever grateful to have the opportunity to see this show. The voices, the passion and the energy these actors displayed, were extraordinary. The story of Tina Turner’s musical career is both inspirational and heart wrenching. When we hear her songs in the future we will have a deeper appreciation of the meaning behind the words. Our trip home was via bus this time, and after finally going to the right side of the road ( picture me running across the road!) we travelled on the double decker all the way to Greenwich. Again, it was later than planned, after midnight when we dragged our weary legs up the stairs to our hotel foyer. The alarm was set for 5.30am, Thursday, our last day in London, was jam packed, so an early start was in order. But more of that adventure later.

24 hours in London town

Our journey to London began on Sunday morning and we were greeted with steady rain and grey clouds covering the English skies. We spent the previous night at Charles and Karen’s home after attending the funeral of her father and my Uncle David. It was a thoughtful and heartfelt tribute to a big hearted man who lived a full life and passed away peacefully aged 93. A large gathering turned out to bid him farewell and again we found ourselves meeting new relatives and friends who knew my father, many years before. It was a wonderful opportunity to be part of such a poignant event.
Saturday night also gave us the chance to spend time with Charles and Karen’s two children, Jake and Katie, now very much adults, and it was a delight to get to know them over a delicious meal of take away Indian delicacies and red wine. This was our first sample of take away food in the UK and apart from the questionable ‘salad bags’ we enjoyed it.
Sunday also marked Karen’s birthday and we were sadly lacking in the gift department. The best we could offer was a big hug and our company, slack really. Always a relaxed affair we enjoyed breakfast with the family before gathering our bags and leaving with another cousin Jenny and her husband Pete who had kindly offered to take us to Crewe station to catch the connecting train to London. With the rain accompanying us all the way, we arrived with plenty of instructions and helpful advice to use once in the city. Naturally we had to send a photo to Carol and Zac back home of the Crewe railway sign.
The two and half hour train journey was smooth and comfortable. Somehow we had inadvertently managed to get first class tickets hence a crowded, but quiet and uninterrupted trip for us. Disembarking at London Euston we were met by a throng of hundreds of commuters going in the opposite direction. Wall to wall of faces, cases and the longest line to use the ladies I have ever seen. Didn’t help that a group of made up Yankie dolls were putting their hair in curlers in the bathroom. Between them they must have bought out the makeup up section of their local department store, seriously a lot of effort going on in that group. Despite warnings from all around, we navigated our way through another two train interchanges and managed to find our hotel. Pleased with the Greenwich location and room with a view, we found the bar and proceeded to plan the next 24 hours. With daylight still with us, we decided to venture out and found the clipper (fast) ferry to London Tower Bridge. Momentarily, confusing this beautiful landmark for London Bridge we were then disappointed by the main London Bridge in comparison. The Tower Bridge, is a treat to the eye and we enjoyed a slow walk over it and back. Turns out there is a tour, so we will look at fitting that into our schedule too. Tower bridge is located right next to Tower of London and we are looking forward to our tour on Thursday.
Right now, on a balmy Sunday evening, we are again sitting in the bar of our Hilton hotel, rather swish for our usual standards, and despite aching feet and disgruntled hips, the Long Island ice tea and Makers Mark are going down a smoothly as warm custard. We, no doubt, look like weary travellers, and can’t compete with the US party going on the corner of the room.

Monday dawned with bright skies and increased temperatures as promised by the weather bureau. Our day’s plan was quite sketchy apart from a definite visit to the Royal Observatory Greenwich. After a breakfast, discounted thanks to a gifted voucher from Rouge Cafe, we set out towards the Observatory, which from the Royal Park stands high on the hill. From here, the standard was set and walking was going to be a big part of our day. Having finally reached the top of the steep accent we were greeted by hundreds of tourists, milling about waiting for the gates to open. What a sight! Pushing and shoving was in ample supply and a few tempers flared along the way. The Observatory was originally built in 1675 and the first astronomer Royal John Flamsteed laid the foundation stone. He moved in a year later with two servants and began his endeavours to understand time, navigation and the stars. It was not until 1884 that the Prime Meridian was defined by Transit Circle telescope at the Royal Observatory which was built by Sir George Biddell Airy, the 7th Astronomer Royal in 1850. The cross-hairs pin the eye piece of the telescope precisely defined Longitude 0 degrees for the world. The Observatory provides a spectacular history and displays many of the pieces of equipment methodically created over years in order to study navigation, timekeeping, and determination of star positions.
For tourists such as us, the technical aspects of the tools and discoveries made during the last few hundred years go beyond our understanding, but it does not stop us from appreciating the dedication, craftsmanship and long serving patience the many men and a few women had, in order to achieve these essential discoveries.
If not for the throng of tourists we would have enjoyed this experience more, but the warm conditions and the jostling and poor manners became frustrating after a while. At one point a self obsessed tourist received a stern serving from Daryl and a young man copped the sharper end of my tongue a bit later as he tried to push through a space that did not exist.
Leaving the Observatory we enjoyed a stroll through the tree lined park, stopping off at the Queens House on our way to the Greenwich Pier to make our way to Westminster.
Well, if we thought the crowds were thick at the Observatory, we were in for a rude shock once we disembarked from our river taxi. Thousands of people filled the stairs to exit and enter the Westminster area. Street sellers were shouting their wares, always on sale, and it was hard to keep sight of Daryl at times. Moving through we were disappointed to see Big Ben covered in scaffolding, as is much of Westminster Abby. Regardless they are most spectacular pieces of architecture. Feeling hungry we continued walking, through the masses, passed the array of monuments until it got a bit quieter and we found a quaint little pub in a side street. Miraculously it was air conditioned and we were given the last available table, located in the tiny corner of the pub, known as the confessional! Getting our bearings, along with some food and drink, we were then ready for our next phase.
And then we walked and walked and walked some more. To Trafalgar Square, Leicester Square (where we bought tickets to a show tomorrow night), The Twinings Tea House and museum (turns out white tea is a thing and I enjoyed its delicate flavour), watched the London Eye go around, very slowly, and a street performer woo the crowd with humour and style. The LEGO plaza and M&M shop made us curious but not inspired to pay the entry fee.
After the worst coffee/tea ( which I returned due to curdled milk) in a loud cafe, next to the tea shop we walked some more, finally finding the Blackfriars Pier, where we waited and waited a waited some more. Seems the river taxi missed our stop so instead of catching the 5.20 we waited for the 5.50 service. With a bladder ready to burst I boarded and headed straight for the ladies, which off course were closed, as was the disabled and men’s - turns out they ran out of water! We were headed for Greenwich North to ride the Emirates cable car, so figured I would cope until then - its was only 30 minutes away. Walking as quickly as my chunky little legs would carry me, we arrived at the cable car and anxiously asked about their bathrooms, to be informed they didn't have any! Are you serious? Did they not realise I have born six children and my bladder can only last so long.....aarrggghhhh. The staffer advised me that I could have gone to the cafe, but they were closed and then most helpfully continued by informing me that the museum would also have toilets but guess what? they were also closed. Not helpful my friend, not at all.
Squeezing a little tighter we boarded the cabin and I tried to distract myself with the view. Seems Daryl is less than thrilled with cable car rides and found the experience less than exhilarating - I had no idea.. ooops this ride definitely had a few challenges, luckily it was not too long but it was quite high, flying around 90 metres above the ground. The ride did give us a birds eye view of the city and it was quite spectacular with the afternoon sun glistening on the buildings below. With views to the Royal Observatory, Old Royal Naval College, Greenwich Foot Tunnel, the London Eye, The Shard, Canary Wharf, The Gherkin, Wembley stadium, The O2, Olympic stadium, ArcelorMittal Orbit, The River Lea, The Crystal, SS Robin, ExCel London, Royal docks, London City Airport, Lyle’s Golden Syrup Factory, Queen Elizabeth II Bridge and the Thames barrier we were able to enjoy this interesting city from a different perspective. Of note, painted on a shed roof was a marriage proposal to Lauren from 79 year old Ralph, I do wonder if she said yes, I hope so. How Romantic.
Alighting from our sky high ride, we made a dash for the river taxi that was rocketing towards the pier. The river taxis travel at 40 mile an hour so we need to get moving, never an easy task for me. Daryl ran ahead and they begrudgingly held the boat for an extra minute while I hobbled up. By now my need for the toilet was increasing, so again headed straight for the facilities, which again were out of use. Slightly fuming I was very glad it was only a short ride to a Greenwich. Finding the nearest restaurant, we bought drinks so I could pee!
The restaurant named Zizzi turned out to be drinks, entree and dinner with a magnificent view. We watched the sun setting over the river Thames and enjoyed a drop in the temperature. Planning for tomorrow is now in full swing, but I suspect after a few more drinks we will start again over breakfast tomorrow.

Until next time,
N

If Wicked William could talk...

Cloud cover and cooler conditions are most welcome today, our sixth day onboard the Wicked William, after enduring England’s hottest day on record yesterday. With temperatures peaking at 40 degrees Celsius (in the shade) we struggled on the open waters of the canals, with little shelter from the trees, high humidity, and a mix of flies and mosquitoes, that both bite. The lead up to yesterday’s hot conditions was preceded by two days of increasing humidity and temperatures and anyone who knows me, knows I am not a fan of either. Even the couple of pubs we stopped at over the past few days provided little reprieve as they do not have air conditioning here. Finding a shop, accommodation or cafe with air-con is rare. I suspect, if this increase in hot weather continues, air cooling could be a boom industry in the UK in the very near future. Our little boat certainly did not provide any cool relief, so some nights have been challenging. Regardless, we have managed through, a little burnt for our efforts, a little fatigued but still rather painless. The efforts to shade our shelves with an umbrella while trying to manoeuvre the boat were clearly worth it.

Wicked William, is a four berth, narrow boat, designed like a caravan inside but with sleek lines and a rudder on the outside. Manufactured by British marines, Wicked William has a 35 horse power motor and chugs along at a cruising speed of four miles per hour (the canal current is about three miles per hour, so do the maths!) The canal that we chose to travel on this week is the Llangollen canal, meandering through the picturesque regions of parts of England and Wales. Britain boasts hundreds of canal routes and the choice is plentiful from short day trips to permanent homes cruising the waterways. Some 3,300 Brit’s live on their boats permanently, as it is a much cheaper option than owning there home or rent. One couple, in particular, have owned their boat for thirty five years, that is their second boat, they have been on the canal for fifty years and still loving it.

The appeal for us, as novice sailors, was minimal locks, scenic waterways and the historic Pontcysyllte Aqueduct.

Our induction to canal boating on Saturday, took over an hour and after Allan, Whittington Wharf boat operator, was satisfied we understood the fundamentals of boating safety, operation and layout, he took us for a short cruise down the canal. With the propensity to chat, Allan, a kind and jovial man, provided lots of instruction and encouragement. He clearly knows a thing or two about boats and farming, so we found out as we cruised along. Eventually, Allan disembarked and left us to our own devices. Feeling quite nervous, we were going just fine, until about an hour into the journey when we struck a bit of bother. Coming through the first lock was smooth as butter and we were so proud of our efforts. An effective system had been set in place - Daryl would operate the locks and I would drive the boat through. I quickly got the hang of the process and managed to steer the boat smoothly into the lock (usually) hold him from hitting either lock door, and then steer him out easily. However, the second lock, located not ten minutes later, rocked our confidence within seconds. The outgoing current was strong and we quickly drifted into the wash, unbeknownst to us collecting a large banner along the way. In my efforts to get the boat back into the middle of the canal, the banner wrapped itself around the propeller and shut the engine down. With some effort, sweat and few choice phrases we got the boat to the edge and securely moored up.
With minimal equipment to try and remove it, Daryl tried valiantly with the blunt kitchen knives and scissors to get the banner loose. What we didn’t know was the banner had stretch cables attached to its ends and these were well and truly tangled. We also didn’t know the banner was about four metres long and one meter wide, left behind by by the canal Trust since 2014. The Canal Trust is meant to be the organisation looking after the waterways, they should be the last people to be littering. With bloodied knuckles, greasy knees and sweat pouring, Daryl finally relented and help was called. Within half an hour the mechanic was onsite and after inspecting the problem, quickly changed into overalls and got some appropriate tools including a hacksaw! The culprit was soon unravelled, in pieces, and our young mechanic also returned from under the propeller hatch, with bloodied knuckles and greasy knees. We were now good to go and the engine fired up without issue. Not the start we wanted, and it was good to get back on the waterway.

Our first day we travelled just near the town of Chirk and moored up right near the pathway to the Bridge Inn, a small county pub, with delicious food and a pool table. I enjoyed the food more than the games of pool, as I lost each one. It also took some adjustment to get used to the greeting of ‘are you ok then’ when you entered a bar or cafe. It translates to ‘hello, how are you, what can I do for you?!’
That night we slept like the dead, I suspect the gentle rocking of the canal, no neighbours or traffic and the stress of our first trip added to our fatigue. The second day dawned bright and cheery and we were delighted to receive a message from my cousin Jenny inviting us to meet her, and her husband Pete, for lunch given we were in the area, near where they live. This was a wonderful opportunity, previous to this we have only communicated by email or messenger. We chose to met them at the Chirk Marina, not too far from us.
Travelling over our first aqueduct, the Chirk Aqueduct, was completed in 1801 and spans 216 meters across the Ceiriog Valley on 10 arches, each 21 metres high and with a span of 12 metres. Running alongside the aqueduct is the Chirk Viaduct carrying the Chester to Shrewsbury rail-line. It stands nine metres above the aqueduct and was built between 1846-1848, but had to be rebuilt in 1858. Both structures are an engineering feat, which would be hard to match today. Pleased with our efforts we continued to our our next piece of engineering mastery, the Chirk Tunnel. Built in 1801 this brick lined tunnel is 420 metres long and is the longest of three tunnels on the Llangollen Canal. Taking us nine minutes to pass through, the tunnel is lighted only by the single light on the narrowboat. Pedestrians can walk the tunnel along a narrow concrete path with a small rail to stop them falling into the canal. A torch would be necessary for this walk it is very dark inside and delightfully cool.

Finally we made it to the Chirk Marina and we were greeted by a man who quickly informed us the marina had shutdown but we could moor if we wanted. Hundreds of other boats, in various states of working condition, looked as if they were permanently housed at the marina. Unaware the marina was located so far from town, we had little choice but to wait for our ride. Happy to rest up for a bit, I was rudely shocked by a loud crashing sound into our boat shortly after settling. Turns out another couple of novice sailors, more inept than us, forgot to moor their boat securely, allowing the back end to be taken by the current for a little trip ending when it slammed into our vessel. The man who initially greeted us ran from his office, yelling and I watched with amusement from inside our cabin. Daryl stood on the deck and made way for the helper to cross over our deck so he could move the invading vessel from our waters. The couple driving the boat, obviously French were all a fluster and French vocabulary was heard in rapid succession. Amused, we noted no damage to poor William and headed off to meet Jenny and Pete in the carpark.
Meeting people for the first time that you know, but don’t, is always a bit strange. Jenny is my late father’s niece but we have never met, only conversing the last couple of years through Facebook. Jenny and Pete arrived and it was like meeting old friends - easy company, full of grand stories and just so very welcoming. They even brought us a gift of wine and cider for our canal cruise. Just so thoughtful. We hope we didn’t disappoint them in return. Again, you never know what picture of yourselves you have painted through emails, Facebook, and the like; hopefully reality is accurately reflected ( we obviously have our drink preferences down pat!)
After initial greetings, the suggestion of journeying to Chirk Castle was presented to us and we nearly squealed with joy as it was definitely on our list to visit. Thus we spent a most delightful afternoon, enjoying lunch at the castle, an excellent tour and finished with coffee and cake, off course. Chirk Castle ( Castell y Waun) now maintained by the National Trust, was built in the late 13th century and served as a border fortress for 300 years. In 1595 Sir Thomas Myddleton bought the castle, with the intention of turning it into a grand family home.The family owned the castle for more than 400 years. In 1981 the National Trust took over ownership of the castle and the 480 acres of the estate. Again this castle offers visitors an opportunity to explore a time we cannot begin to comprehend. Grand, sound and offering majestic views, the Chirk Castle is a great way to spend a few hours. My favourite room was the library, hosting hundreds of books, the oldest dating back to 518 AD! Our afternoon ended with a quick tour of Wicked William, with Jenny and Pete, before bidding them goodbye. Cruising along for another couple of hours we moored up in a quiet area just before the famous Pontcysyllte Aqueduct ready for tomorrow’s crossing. After a dinner of toasted cheese sandwiches, a few games of cards, winnings favouring Daryl, we called it quits.

Pontcysyllte Aqueduct became a world heritage site in 2009. At 307 metres long, 3.6 metres wide, 1.6 metres deep it is the longest and highest aqueduct in Britain and carries the canal 38 metres above the River Dee. It consists of 18 piers and 19 arches, each with a span of 13.7 metres, built hollow at the top to reduce the weight. Taking ten years to build, it was opened in 1805. There is a towpath mounted above the trough and pedestrians can walk the length of the aqueduct, with a railing on the side for their protection. But there is no railing on the other side and boaters feel as if they are suspended in mid air. We crossed the aqueduct in strong winds, so had only a few brave walkers were along the towpath. The crossing is spectacular, it is also daunting and takes a lot of courage to look over the edge. The views are breathtaking but the constant knocking of the boat against the trough is a little disconcerting. Once across you are met with a very sharp left hand turn to continue on the canal. There is a shop situated on the bend, and many pedestrians enjoy their lunch while watching the challenges boats have navigating this route. The length of boat is definitely worth consideration when hiring. Daryl and I helped a couple and their two children who were trying desperately to turn the vessel, at one stage the woman nearly went into the murky waters - concentrating so hard pulling the tow rope she nearly forgot to let go.

Our destination was the little village of Llangollen and we arrived late in the afternoon, after an enjoyable cruising time on the waterways for several hours. Choosing to moor at the marina, we were surprised to find ourselves docked next to our Frenchy friends from the Chirk marina! Settling in, we went for a walk to explore the gorgeous town. Built around the Dee River (spectacular all on its on), the village also boasts a heritage railway line, which off course we booked tickets to travel on that afternoon. Disappointingly the steam train was out of service so we had to settle for the diesel engine. Lunch was enjoyed at a cafe on the banks of the River Dee. A couple of ladies, seated next to us, enquired about our accents and then proceeded to chat to us about the highlights of the area and some local historical gossip, in particular ‘Plas Newydd’ most notable as the home where two Irish ladies, Lady Eleanor Butler and Miss Sarah Ponsonby (famously known as the Llangollen ladies) eloped and set up house together in the late 18th century, scandalising contemporary British Society. We strolled along the main street, lined with smaller shops offering their wares and Daryl bought an iconic Pork Pie to sample from the local butcher. We booked in for dinner at the Corn Mill, recommended by many on our journey, and it was fabulous. A warm evening, we were pleased to be able to enjoy our after dinner drinks on the balcony built over the river. The gushing of the water roaring over the rocks set a scenic backdrop to our night and provided a welcome cool breeze.

Earlier in the afternoon, with increasing temperatures, we boarded the train which would take us from Llangollen to Corwen station on the only standard gauge heritage railway in North Wales. The trip is ten miles in length through the Dee Valley, with five stations along the way, including the notable Horseshoe Falls. Daryl explored the Falls the next morning, while I enjoyed a sleep in. It is a three kilometre walk from the marina in most picturesque surroundings. Intending to get as far as Ellesmere by evening we set out on the canal to again cross the Pontcysyllte Aqueduct in much calmer conditions.

Having arranged to meet Karen and Charles for dinner we enjoyed another lovely meal in the Ellesmere centre, regaling them with our adventurous tales, before returning to our floating home. Overnight we witnessed a magnificent thunderstorm including lightning and thunder. Unfortunately, it did not help reduce the temperatures or the humidity.

After a restless night, we set about finding some wifi to book a few things for our impending London trip and managed to waste a couple of hours, achieve very little while drinking mediocre hot chocolate. Giving up, with considerable grumbling we set out for the canal once again. The day continued as it started, and we ended up travelling along miles of farmland, mosses and meres, bitten by bugs, hot and cranky. The meres are located either side of Llangollen canal and collectively create what is known as Shropshire’s ‘Lakes District’. It is thought the meres were created by large blocks of ice left behind at the end of the last Ice Age. As the glaciers retreated the blocks of ice became buried beneath rock debris and when the ice melted hollows were left. These gradually became filled with water. The Mosses or raised bog is a section of the canal, between Whitchurch and Ellesmere, that originally cut through a large peat area approximately 8 kms long and 2.5 kms wide is home to a large range of wildlife.

It was in this region, while trying to do the right thing and allow the oncoming traffic right of passage through a narrow bridge, that I managed to beach our boat! Poor William was stuck fast in the mud and tree root growth that has managed to sneak into the canal edges. We weren’t moving. Daryl was on the barge pole, tied the rope from the front, but we stuck fast. As we have found on the canal, help is never far away. Two chaps from the oncoming boat had jumped to our assistance, they both grabbed the rope, full throttle forward, Daryl again giving his all heaving the barge pole. To many cheers, William was again mobile! Much thanks and waves were passed between all involved, just all part of the journey on the canals.

Trying to escape the humidity and the little critters, we stopped at Whitchurch to again try to get some internet connection and continue our London planning. After a very long, hilly walk into town, we downed a few drinks ( it was even too hot for alcohol for me!) and managed to book a couple of events. Side note, train travel in England is disgraceful, the cost is horrendous, even when you book ahead. London better be worth the cost to get there! When the pub got too hot, we walked back and continued boating into the cool of the evening and finally moored at Grindley Brook. The canal passes through the village of Grindley Brook rising/falling 12.1 metres via a three lock staircase flight just outside the village and then three further locks in the village. The staircase flight, the only one on this canal, is overlooked by a grand lock keeper’s cottage from where there is always a lock keeper on hand to help boaters. We were fortunate to have the lock keeper help on both trips through the staircase. Having someone on both sides, when going through locks in such quick succession, certainly makes it easier for the lock operator. In between going through the locks (we calculated we did 20 locks yesterday) we stopped at Wrenbury for two reasons.
1. It’s the only place to turn the boat around which we needed.
2. It has a pub (Dusty Miller’s) right on the canal, close to our mooring point.

Again, no air conditioner and it was clear the waitress was struggling in the heat, but the meal was fabulous. The town has an electric drawbridge that is key operated and impacts all traffic entering and exiting the main part of the village. Tractors laden with silage made steady tracks through the drawbridge yesterday, while we ate our lunch, and it was a sight we would not see often at home. Some of the equipment barely fit across the bridge and you could hear it groaning under the weight of the loads it was trying to support. It took us four hours to travel up the canal and only three hours on the return trip. It is amazing what a difference it makes with the boating traffic and lock positions. We lucked out a bit on the way out. Of the three draw bridges we needed to operate, one was locked open and this saves a good five to ten minutes each time.

Docking along the same stretch as the night before we chose to have left-overs for dinner and crashed in our camp chairs on the canal bank under the shade. The storms that were forecast didn’t eventuate in our neck of the woods, and we only had a few showers, adding to the humidity.

Today, has been a good day, we are enjoying a very relaxed trip back to Ellesmere, including a leisurely home cooked breakfast on the canal bank, before setting off and a simple lunch on the boat. We will be meeting Jenny and Pete again for tea tonight.

Along this journey we have met some interesting characters, fisherman, families travelling for the first time, reunited friends enjoying a different type of holiday, couples who go out for three months at a time every year on their narrow boat, foreigners who think it’s a bit of a blast to do this type of boating and singles who enjoy their own company, sometimes with a dog or two, or occasionally a cat as they cruise around the UK. For us, it has been the most unique experience so far. Totally independent, we have set our own course and speed, dealt with a range of challenges, including a blocked kitchen sink (thanks to the previous incumbent pushing a straw into the pipe work), and managed to still like each other after living in very close quarters 24/7. We quickly learnt to shower in the evening, after the motor had run long enough to heat the water, and while we were there to wash our clothes so they could be hung, for all to see, the following day on the boat rails outside. We have been the inadvertent subject of many holiday snaps as people seem quite taken by the narrow boats. One young lad, asked to take a photo alongside the boat as his name was William also. Too cute!

Daryl’s parents undertook a similar journey some 25 years ago and I wonder if a seed was planted into Daryl’s subconscious way back then. Max has been a firm supporter of our plan to travel the canals and the trip itself. I take my hat off to Max and Enid for doing their UK adventure without a GPS. Not sure we would have been so successful. Max has called us a couple of times, despite the exorbitant cost of an overseas call, just to be sure we are ok, he really does make our day. Along the way we have managed to message home, call the kids a few times and even video chat some of the grandkids. Home is not far away now, in fact only two weeks.

I have been asked on a number of occasions if the canal trip is what I expected and honestly it is, and it isn’t. The narrow boats, provide an opportunity to slow down, this takes some getting used to. Limited internet access is challenging, indefinite periods of cruising along the countryside with no sounds other than the bird life or your partner, allows much time for reflection and pause. With all this time, I could have read a novel or two. I brought them, but the reality is, I didn’t want to. Nature is quietly magnetic, drawing you into her world, therapeutic and soul soothing. It is indeed unique.

Would I do it again? In a heart beat, in a different canal, with the same partner, any day of the week ( preferably not in summer though)

Until next time,
N