Nigel the Tescoman arrived at 11:00, but it was 12:15 by the time everything was stowed and we were ready to move on.
A couple of boats had dropped down Park Gate Lock, leaving it empty and ready for us, but as soon as I started to get ready to go, a boat came up from behind. I could have pulled out and got into the lock before they arrived, but get annoyed if someone does that to me, so opened the gates and waved them in.
As they were going up I pulled Seyella up onto the lock landing, then went and closed up for them as they left, before emptying the lock for us.
We decided not to go into Penkridge tonight, so pulled over just after going up Longford Lock.
Under the M6.
Heron, sheep stampede and M6.
It’s 4 years ago yesterday since our last dog, Bruno, died. He’d only had just over 3 months with us on the boat when he started to have fits, followed by a massive stroke. The vet diagnosed a brain tumour, and couldn’t do anything for him.
Most weekends we’d be up on the 3 Peaks in the Yorkshire Dales, and I’ve an abiding memory of him trotting along happily on the ridge up to Whernside, a blizzard blowing in from the right sheathing his fur in ice. It didn’t bother him at all.
But he also liked his home comforts….
We’ve still got his ashes on board. I think when we’re in the Dales again we’ll have a last walk together up Whernside, and I’ll leave him up there.
Of all the dogs you have, one always stands out. I love Meg to bits, and would miss her terribly if anything happened to her, but there was only one Bruno…
Less of this maudlin sentimentality.
Locks 2, miles 1