When you are retired it’s difficult enough to know what day it is, never mind if it’s a weekend or not. I can see most of you nodding from here!

Our destination for Friday night’s mooring was Gayton Marina. As we approached I could see it on our starboard side, with a recently mown lawn full of colourful parasol covered picnic tables. I couldn’t wait to explore. As the parasols got closer I began to envisage a cocktail on the lawn, at the very least a glass of anything alcoholic. After mooring on the canal side (not the marina itself) our first stop was the chandlery as it was shortly due to close at 5pm, where Steve made purchases of essential new mooring pieces of kit especially for canals. Sadly for, me there was no bar, not even a team room, so I happily made do with a white chocolate Magnum out of the frozen goodies freezer. Yum.

Later that evening, after that week’s events especially the non-pub Northampton Arm 17 lock flight, I was so fatigued in body and mind that when Steve asked if I would like to get dressed up, I immediately reached for my life jacket. Not my most flattering or glamorous look and probably not what he had in mind!

We didn’t move on Saturday 20th, well not by very much. At 8:30am there was a knock on Pegasus from a Gayton employee who informed us he needed our mooring on the canal for returning hire boats and could we move by 9am. I was still in bed. Steve said I could stay there, so I did, whilst he took Pegasus further up the canal to choose a picturesque mooring spot.

Having moored up starboard side, no mooring to port, we had a narrow foot path adjacent to us. Yes, I had to agree it appeared picturesque and tranquil. Steve suggested we stay and have an easy day. I’m thinking the bed linen needs changing, where do I hang out the washing to dry and possibly the bathroom towels need a freshen up too. Without travelling and lock duties, I went straight into domestic goddess mode. When he saw me begin to change the bed linen, he asked me why I didn’t have a day off. I can sense every man reading at this point switching off and every woman thinking, like me, when else would it get done. Urgh!

As I finished getting dressed, in-between muttering to myself about being in the middle of no-where again, I heard a mail voiced ‘hello’ followed by Pegasus’s second knock of the day. This time, it was Tom, moored not far away from us, who thought we were manoeuvring a 360 degree turn but realised we had become detached from the bank at the bow. I took a look out of the front of the boat. We were still securely moored at the stern but the bow was making its way into the centre of the canal blocking comings and goings, with me almost equidistant between the banks either side. With Steve in the shower I lost no time in clambering on to the starboard gunnel (again remembering the rule of 3 (either two feet on the gunnel and one hand on the hand rail, or two hands on the hand rail and one foot on the gunnel) to walk halfway down Pegasus to grab a centre line to throw to Tom. The gunnel is the narrow blue walkway under the windows.

Steve was still quite oblivious of proceedings and me, wanting Pegasus safe before the stern became detached as well sending us down the Grand Canal without a paddle, I worked quickly with Tom. Steve’s head appeared through a porthole to gauge what was happening and upon taking in the dilemma quickly sped out of the stern and on to the bank to assist Tom, who was still holding the other end of the centre line I had thrown to him earlier. With the two of them pulling Pegasus back to the bank, Tom and Steve discussed canal mooring techniques.

Sitting inside to concentrate on my blog writing, I was disturbed on a regular basis by anything on the water passing us which caused water movement which in turn sent Pegasus towards and away from its mooring and gently bumping us into the bank with each passing. I had distant memories of being on the rivers which were wide and empty and mostly all to ourselves.

I observed how the bridle path was narrow, there was no room to sit on the bank and how there was a regular stream of mixed traffic of dog walkers, cyclists, joggers, family outings and generally anything on legs or wheels. I wondered if it was like that all week or only at the weekends. I felt it was a bit like being moored on the Serpentine at Hyde Park but without the cafés.

Sitting in the cratch, I called Angela and in the middle of our chat I thought Pegasus had become detached from its bow mooring again. Getting up to have a look, as it all seemed alright we finished our catch up and I went back inside the boat. I looked out of a starboard window. I was facing the canal. The front was loose again! Reporting to Captain sLog, Steve used everything in our arsenal of ‘special things you might need box’, including the big nappy steel pins and chains purchased yesterday and secured us to the bank. It had to be third time lucky.

Not travelling through the day I appreciated the opportunity to catch up on things you can’t do on the move; me with my domestic goddess duties interspersed with writing and Steve with general boat duties and engine maintenance. I especially appreciated having free time to cook a proper evening meal. I was going to try out Heston Blumenthal’s recipe for the crispiest roast potatoes ever, with Steve preparing his special Ribeye and mushroom in cream dish.

It was a lazy but productive and successful day all round. We were both relaxed, dinner was delicious and we gazed at each other’s eyes over a bottle of wine. Actually I was propped up on an elbow as I couldn’t move whilst wondering if we would wake up in the same place tomorrow – who says romance is dead?!