We set off Sunday morning 14th May our deadline. Not caring if there was still a river warning in place as we really did want to be the other side of Wansford and its threat of river closure the following day. At last the sun is shining. At last I can catch up with laundry, hanging it in the cratch to dry and at last I look forward to my life being more exciting than domestic chores. I might even strip down the layers I’m wearing and winter boots to t shirt, shorts and sandals. Steady girl, steady.

We did hundreds of locks that day. OK about 6 or 8, passed the proposed closure and arrived at a place called Fotheringay We did it. We were on our way to Crick. Moored up and finding the local Falcon Pub was only a 6 min walk away it was tempting but I was put off as where we we’re moored there were too many free roaming sheep and too much poop to negotiate in the dark.  As sunset was due any minute I just couldn’t be asked to make the effort, so it was drinkies and nibbles on board whilst we congratulated each other on another trip well done, Wansford behind us and hoping there were no more obstacles before Crick.

Our last lock was at Warmington, I half expected to be greeted by Dad’s Army before I remembered I can’t spell.  I make lots of spelling mistooks.  Anyway Warmington has a wheel lock which I hadn’t come across before. With Steve on the boat in the lock, my enthusiasm was unboundless but unfortunately exceeded my levels of stamina.  You would have thought I was engaging with the Wheel of Fortune with the gusto I performed. We successfully made it through another day, enjoyed a wonderful picnic on an embankment somewhere, our caravan small table and chairs coming in useful, and most of the day was bathed in sunshine. I haven’t changed my mind about the Fens though.

The following morning my daughter Natalie called me and asked how I was.  I replied angry.  Obviously she asked why.  I told her Steve had woken me up too early with a cuppa around 7 and said he could set off without me if I wanted a lie in.  When I replied that I told him the lock was only half an hour away, what was I to do, roll out of bed and operate it naked my daughter couldn’t stop laughing.  I also told her he had begun to put his socks in the laundry inside out and tiny things were setting me off. Through her giggles she asked me to rant at her and not give Steve a hard time.  Hard time I said!! Do you know how many sodding fields I’ve had to look at, hear him identify numerous frigging birds and let me know there’s a narrow boat with a wheel house that looks like Barb’s shed (another story for another time)!!! I told her that yesterday’s weather was so lovely I sat in the cratch and watched the world go by.  Today it’s cold, the view is boring and I am back to Netflix binging as we go along.  I am not currently happy I stated.  She laughed again and said I wasn’t very good in cold weather and to get a grip. Don’t get me started on get a grip.  We now go straight into the locks without stopping to drop me off, for me to climb the steps, with rope in one hand and my windlass gripped between my teeth. Slight exaggeration, but it makes a better story.

Later on in the day Steve messaged me on the walkie talkie to say there’s a pub up ahead and did I want to google it.  Pub, break, google.  I replied (strop in a pocket) why don’t we just aim for the pub and have breakfast after such an early start.  Agreed.

We’ve done the past three or four locks with the same couple Val and Brian in Marie Claire.  They used to be butchers not magazine producers.  We are taking it in turns to leapfrog which is working out nicely.  We spoke about butchering in the old days as I remembered a friend who would always sleep with a shotgun and couple of farm dogs in his butchers shop once the turkeys were in for Christmas.  They used to do the same prior to retirement.

I took Steve to one side and relayed an edited version of my chat with Natalie.  I said we need to start off our days similar to when we caravanned with a check list.  That way he wouldn’t wake me up before I’ve gone to sleep, we wouldn’t start without him running to the tiller to set off forgetting his walkie talkie, maps, jacket (hidden in a corner under the life jackets) and drive me to distraction whilst I balance all his errant items with a cup of coffee walking from one end of the boat to the other to make my deliveries to him. It was a plan.

Mid afternoon we made it to the pub The Kings Head at Wadenhoe.  Frank and Julie kindly helped us moor up at the uneven bankside.  Apparently, we are having dinner at the pub with them at 7pm. Every time he opens his mouth to speak he reminds me of Bob Mortimer. Northeners! After one round of drinks I’ve returned to Pegasus for a break to energise before dinner. 

Walking up the water logged lawn to the Kings Head to make dinner at 7, I was pleased I had chosen my boots (Boots!  nuts in May) rather than a pair of fashionable trainers.  Steve exclaimed what a beautiful view.  I could only think, been there, done it and shared the vista many times heaving a silent sigh or two. I shouldn’t have held my breath – it came out the other end.

Seating for dinner, I glanced at Julies’ engagement ring. Now, I know everyone has different tastes and priorities but it didn’t stop me hoping, after 20 years together and almost as much of an age gap, that Frank’s heart was bigger than his wallet. Dining at a real pub, with real food offering pie and pint night @ £12 was a treat. The others ordered the steak and ale pie but I went for the chicken, ham and asparagus curious and partly excited in case the asparagus was fresh and not fresh out of a tin.  The result was unexpected but appreciated.  I could tell it was fresh as it must have been carefully portioned controlled by the centimetre as proved by my inquisitive probing fork.