Today started with some kind of normality in that it was as close to our normal retired, not doing up a boat, routine. We had a civilised breakfast meeting and, still refusing to look at maps, I asked how far we were away from Crick, the biggest, most popular inland waterways festival in the UK for over the past two decades which attracts thousands of visitors every year. Steve said not far. Don’t you just hate that phrase ‘not far’. It means nothing! I rattled off later today, tomorrow morning, tomorrow afternoon, next week??? He replied, speaking slowly and calmly as anything, which really wound me up “I don’t know, I haven’t travelled there before by narrow boat. I glared and made the most of it before I dissolved into fits of giggles as I couldn’t keep a straight face any longer.

Then we discussed me being bored at times.  I told Steve that the trouble will boredom travelling in a narrow boat is being stuck in an open plan living space with the attraction of a full fridge located less than an arm’s length away.  I made a mental note that the spelling of fridge is similar to fudge. Just saying.

The weather forecast for today was scorchio but I was still in several layers through the morning. As we cruised I’ve never seen so many narrow boats, so brightly painted and so  many parts of the Grand Canal resembling ‘boatyard graveyard’. I don’t think anyone is interested in licences, clearing up the debris, raising the sunken or salvage. C’est la vie.  Each to his own.

Without warning, although Steve mentioned something about a lock at the breakfast meeting, we approached a lock, not just a lock, but a flight of 7 locks, with a total rise of 74ft 10in. There was a queue and we teamed up with two couples to get two narrow boats in a lock at a time.  I did the maths.  Several of us to manhandle each lock. Sweet! Everyone was very friendly and Jeff, who introduced himself to me taught me even more lock protocol and safety, especially handy when one of the locks had both ground and lock paddles to be opened and closed.

Helen from Scotland told me both couples were about to celebrate their golden anniversaries.  Obviously I congratulated her. Whilst I was puzzling about their and my ages I heard Steve ask me to smile to take a photo.  He repeated himself.  Blanche I’m taking a photo, could you smile.  I replied that I was smiling, just because he hadn’t seen me smile for a while was no excuse to forget what my smiling looked like even if I had!

The locks were wider than the non-pub Northampton Arm and incredibly heavy to budge. Thank goodness we buddied up as I could never have managed them on my own. Out of nowhere we bumped into Chris Bennet, the chap who sold us Pegasus and told us it just needed a little lipstick. Yeah right, little lipstick meaning a full refit whilst living on her. What he doesn’t know about narrow boats and canals is just not worth knowing.

The chat and banter was excellent and many hands made light work. Steve now quite proficient at handing the boat solo whilst I’m busy in the locks, for a change not solo; a mile and a half walk from the bottom to the top.

We were told there was a pub at the top. Steve almost dribbled in anticipation.  We got Pegasus into the final lock and eyed up the pub.

Unfortunately all the local moorings were designated for Permanent Moorers with licences required. We continued, having been told that’s the last pub before Crick. We cruised passed the permanent moorers allocation, half empty, and then passed the boats on the 48hrs banks, sure absolutely everyone thought 48 hours meant at least a fortnight.

We ended up adjacent to Weltonfield Marina. And no, they don’t have a social club or bar but I’ve been assured by the purser (another blue job) the bar is fully stocked.

Having served a most delicious chicken salad for lunch, I’ve been promised by Steve Pork Belly ribs on the BBQ for dinner. I’ve told him – emphatically – I won’t be doing the washing up as it’s a well deserved crew’s night off!!