Day three

I’ve always believed it’s a woman’s prerogative to change her mind – which is why on day three we headed off to Ellesmere Port rather than hang around in the environs of Chester. Someone back at Hurleston had told us not to bother going past the city, but I think he was a muppet. It was hugely satisfying to see and touch the end of the Shroppie...well, not touch it literally as there was a slick of oil all across the basin, but we were still able to take in the sweep of the Manchester Ship Canal and the Mersey beyond, not to mention the immediate interest of the Waterways Museum. And then, to cap it all, we were buzzed by the City of Lancaster, the Battle of Britain Memorial Flight’s Lancaster bomber. Bit of a show-stopper that....

The reasonably pleasant road of this morning was enjoyed, thankfully, in the dry, a sharp contrast to the downpour of last night. We were all hunkered down, debating how many dogs would actually dare to venture out for a pre-bed wee, when we heard what sounded like a motor. Being nosy, I stuck my face against the porthole, thinking Noah was on his way, and saw...mmm, I’m not sure how to describe it really...er...how about a green soap dish, powered by an egg whisk with a tarpaulin as a makeshift cabin? Curious but get this: he actually slowed down past us! I couldn’t believe it! He couldn’t have displaced anything if he’d tried, but it was a polite and thoughtful gesture and we’ll take those where we can get them. Some questions remain: what was he doing out there? Who takes a soap dish out in the pissing rain? And was it his egg whisk or was someone denied their meringues last night?