Lonesome pine - not

Okay, maybe this is a naughty thing to say but I've had an absolutely fab weekend as a single girl! Yes, I have missed A, who is still stuck down south, but I've also been able to please myself to the nth degree and it's been great!!! Yes, I've been helped immeasurably by the excellent weather admittedly, but I think what really floated my boat was just having me to worry about and me to indulge for a change. (I know, I know I've got five dogs to care for but they're much easier than a husband!).

So what have I been up to then? Well, Saturday morning seemed to pass all too quickly in two dog walking shifts, a trip to the shops and a coffee break, meaning that I only got away at lunchtime. Having been moored in one place for almost a week, it felt weird to be on the move again, weirder still that I was alone but for my canine crew. However, despite it gusting up once I'd dropped down Saltersford Lock, I made unfettered progress towards Dutton, and tucked myself neatly on to the visitor moorings below the lock with a show of boatmanship that impressed even me. I took everything deliberately slowly, was extra careful with my footing and simply maintained the sort of circumspection that's sensible when you've got just five dogs to rely on, not one of whom can chuck a life ring or give you mouth to mouth if you need it. No, actually, given Ranger's vigorous lickage of me this pm as I had a lie down, mouth-to-mouth is quite possible now I come to think of it.

The rest of the day was passed in a tableau of dog walks and paper-reading, culminating in an evening 4 miler from Dutton to Acton Bridge, up to the Trent & Mersey, along the canal towpath and back down to Dutton via the convenient footpath that joins the two navigations. With all bar one of the Black Prince boats out at Acton Bridge, you can tell the holidays are here. Not that you'd know it if you remained within the confines of the Weaver, mind. I've only seen a handful of boats all weekend and this despite the fine weather. One look out the porthole at seven this morning saw me make one of those executive decisions that you don't regret, well, not until much later when the early start revisits you with a migraine. The mist on top of the water, the still beauty of the day, the promise of meandering delights, it all had far too much of a siren quality about it so no sooner had the dogs done what dogs need to do than they were bundled unceremoniously aboard and we were off. Now, amazingly for me, I'd actually thought ahead about what I'd need during the morning, as my plan was to get to Weston Point/Whites Bridge and then return to Sutton Swing Bridge, where I would stop for a dog/human comfort break. So there I was at the stern complete with thermos mug (full of coffee), thermos flask (full of coffee), two packs of chewing gum, my fleece coat, my radio, my camera, my phone, my Nicholsons, my Weaver guide, my binoculars, my phone charger...You couldn't see me for all the crap I was surrounded by and the only thing I really wanted during the trip was a pee...

It was a grand day though, and apart from the occasional flurry of crews from the Runcorn Rowing Club, I had the river to myself. Mafeking was duly relieved when I made it back to Sutton Swing Bridge, where I also took the opportunity to forage for some wood like a proper liveaboard, and then it was back up river, through Dutton and Saltersford, which were both manned by very obliging relief lockies, to finally draw stumps at Barnton Cut. Ahh, back home..I'm now sitting here with the vestiges of a headache and a very hot face, wondering whether my scurvy crew have earned their dog tack....