Wednesday November 8th 2006

And then there were two. An early mutiny by our former cabin boy saw him taking control of the bridge and decreeing the bilge pump to be out of gumption. He sent me down into the engine room , armed only with a tea-cup, to bale out the stagnant slops which were threatening to submerge the throbmangel. When finally satisfied with my pumping efforts he ordered me to fire up the beast and cast us off in a steady chug towards breakfast, two steaming bowls of porridge followed by a pastie. A continual sense of deja vu today, first a familiar bobbing armchair, today lying to our starboard side, then the tricky swing at Marston where we exited the Ashby and Edna surged into the Oxford with a minor kiss on the tunnel wall, as if returning to a former lover. Then back along the twisty Oxford, past Charity Wharf where we idly speculated as to whether it was a permanent spectacle or just a remnant of a Halloween display. The Captain disappeared below decks to reverse the ill effects of hypothermia for a while leaving me at the tiller in the solitude of the contoured Oxford. Interrupted from my snooze I noticed an approaching vessel excitedly motioning to me with an up and down arm waving; in my eagerness to ascertain the message behind the signal I eagerly pressed on the diesel and sped up towards them. The Motioning seemed to accelerate abreast with my pace and two lovely old boys called out a word of warning to me, "Slow down, old working boat adrift at Ansty, collision a distinct possibility." It was still a full mile to Ansty, by which time disaster had been averted and my only challenge was a staring competition with a curious fox. Hawkesbury Junction and Dave was extremely proud about penetrating the tight lock without touching the sides, oh how little he knows. Then an emotional moment as we passed Mary's resting place again. If only Dave had fished her out with the boat hook before the prop had got to her. Dear Mary, may she rest in pieces. We saluted as the sun sank in the heavy sky. We nudged through Stretton and stopped just beyond to idle awhile in Brinklow. The Motte afforded panoramic views of the sunset over Coventry and a heated debate ensued over the location of the black Mountains. Back to patient Edna for a twilight cruise through the woods and past the charming boat "Settle Down" with its inevitable baby on board. At last Captain was satiated and nudged Edna into a reedy repose. We left Edna in the company of a sentry Heron and trudged though torrential downpour to Easenhall, where we dined on an experimental menu in the Golden Lion, slowly drying out in time for the return promenade.

[Post written by Galley Wench Jo Nash]