Wrenbury run

Do you remember those old posers they used to ask you at school? If it takes two men five days to dig a ditch ten feet long, how long will it take three men? I only ask because I was never any good at them and I’m currently struggling with ‘If two people fill the poo tank in 17 days, how quickly will three people fill it?’

You see, we have a guest and he’s throwing my calculations out. I can’t even ask him how often he’s going or what he’s doing as it’s not really polite is it? So I think I might just chicken out and get a pumpout before we leave for Chester. Oh yes, readers, we’re going on a trip if all goes to plan. In fact, I cannot tell a lie...we have already been on a trip. After ten days as a floating office, the boat finally moved on Friday, the excuse of a guest and the siren call of the pub proving too much. The weekend started here! In fact, the original plan was that it was just going to be a day-trip, as we needed our car to go to a birthday party the next day. But as so often happens when boating, Miss Serendipity took over!

The trip up to Wrenbury was just how boating should be. Calm and sunny conditions, mirrored in the cheery disposition of all the boaters we met coming down. There was one exception, obviously members of the Intense Narrowboating Brigade...you know the sort, always looking straight ahead, refusing even to make eye contact, let alone say hello, carrying on as though boating was some form of extreme sport that requires a level of concentration that precludes all social niceties. And while I’m having a pop, to the Challenger couple heading to Baddiley at about 1pm on Sunday lunchtime, do cheer up, it may never happen. I’m sorry, but miserable faces put me right off my coffee and Kitkat...

The only excitement of note was when A and his friend, another A, were called into action to rescue a spaniel puppy that had decided to indulge his predilection for water. Not a problem usually but the pup wouldn’t come to his name and he was proving a one dog obstacle course for all the boats going by. Eventually A and A swooped down and hoiked him out by the scruff of the neck before he got a prop up his bottom, much to the relief of his exasperated owner. Incidentally, my A was teaching friend A all about locks as it was his first time. For some reason, as I looked at them flailing round the lockside, that film ‘Dumb and Dumber’ kept coming to mind....

We moored up before the first lift bridge and repaired to the pub for a pie and a pint. I decided to be ironic and ordered a Dissy Blonde shandy, which promptly befuddled my senses and caused me to think that sticky toffee pudding AND custard had a place on my calorie controlled diet. I did leave a bit, so maybe it doesn’t count...We were so stuffed by the time we got back to the boat, and the weather was so nice, that we declined to move, opting to take a taxi on the morrow. That all worked fine (A1 Taxis of Nantwich, very good) and we were even able to do a good turn, offering a lovely Black Country couple off NB Bakers Dozen a lift into town. They were hoping for a bus, where they probably needed a miracle so we encouraged them to jump in. They were extraordinarily grateful and we now have a standing invitation to tea and whiskey in Brewood. Best offer I’ve had in ages...

Things only started to go a bit pear-shaped come Sunday when we awoke to a Force 10 raging down the cut. We really needed to be back at the marina in time for work on Monday so had little choice but to sacrifice our hairstyles in the gales. Actually things weren’t as tricky as I’d surmised, the only real difficulty being as I navigated the lift bridge next to the pub. At the critical moment, a big gust whistled up my T-Shirt, ballooned it over my head and revealed my bra to the excited throng watching my passage. It was a miracle that a) I didn’t hit the sides and b) no-one fainted but my discombobulation obviously stayed with me until we got back as I made a complete and total bollocks up of getting into the mooring. Well, I just don’t do breasts in public...not any more.