Emergency ward quay

Well I’m sitting at the dinette and things are back to normal. A is scowling at his laptop, threatening it with violence and the dogs are vying for ‘nearest the Squirrel’ supremacy, with Miffy close to opening the door and hopping in. I, meanwhile, am basking in the afterglow of being a good citizen, having come to the rescue of an epileptic on the quay at Northwich. Lots of flashing lights and flagging down of ambulances, much hand-holding and sympathetic words and at last Tony was taken off to hospital, the paramedics perhaps more concerned with his cider consumption that morning than the small fit he’d had. Unfortunately that left Tony’s friend Alan all alone with his cider bottle but actually he was more in need of someone to talk to – cue a fascinating life story (or possible Walter Mitty complex) that involved being recently diagnosed with stomach cancer, getting home one day with Tony to the house they shared with Tony’s girlfriend to find her dead and being subsequently charged with murder, although she was declared to have died of natural causes. And for good measure, there was the confession that, despite denials to his friend Tony that he was not having an affair with the girlfriend, the girlfriend had in fact thrown herself onto him as he kipped innocently on the sofa in his jimjams. He relayed verbatim what the girlfriend asked him to do next, at which point I coughed and made my excuses, citing limited passage times at Vale Royal Locks for my impromptu haste to get away. I mean, you couldn’t make it up could you?

After all that drama, the afternoon’s cruise down towards Winsford could have been a huge anti-climax but was saved by the wonderful workings of the two locks we went through. Unlike the automated locks at Saltersford and Dutton, Hunts and Vale Royal need manual working – not so bad on the diddy Hunts Lock but a real physical effort at the big Vale Royal one. They have to wind up these massive paddles which have steroidal gear and handles and then, to open the gates, they have to walk round and round and round with what looks like a butty ‘ellum stuck in a slot. Then they have to reverse the procedure, open the paddles at the other end and before they can let you go, they need to wind open – by hand – a bridge that rather inconveniently spans the chamber. They earn their money do those boys!

At Hunts I was reunited with lovely lockie Chris who had seen me on my way through Saltersford on Saturday and when I rang to alert them to our approach, he remembered me and asked me whether I was still on my own. He had a colleague with him as both these locks are two-man working and he was just as friendly, as were the two at Vale Royal. In fact, the Weaver lockies are some of the very best BW employees I’ve ever come across and it’s such a shame they don’t get to work more boats through…although the Vale Royal chaps may be pleased about that…

We moored up in a strengthening wind and immediately released the hounds who had a mad gallop about the place – we can see along the towpath either way which is a real boon – and that small amount of exercise seems to have done for them. Which makes for a peaceful boat, well at least for another 30 minutes or so until Ranger’s dinner alarm goes off…

Also enjoyed some retail therapy in Northwich prior to Casualty, flexing the plastic in the marvellous Bratts cookware shop. I didn’t think it would be long post-inverter project before we succumbed to a toaster because our grill is absolutely hopeless, you may as well ask Monty to breathe on the bread…and a girl has to have a decent grill pan…and a big sauté pan for home…and a sharp grater….and, okay, a lemon zester too, but honestly, I haven’t done any serious shopping for weeks!

Tomorrow will probably be a stay put and mooch day, although we'll definitely walk back up the cut and see the work going on at Vale Royal small lock, and I'm in a foraging for firewood mode too - the adjacent embankment looks as though it could contain untold riches. Now all I need is for A's laptop to work properly and I'm all set for a heavenly Easter. Have a happy and safe one wherever you are.

Imminent return

Wow, I keep having to remind myself that I'm married. I haven't been apart from the crew for this long in years - but thankfully he is due back after lunch and I'll celebrate in my normal fashion with a big shop in Tescos. Well, may as well make use of the car while it's handy...Apparently A hasn't really eaten since he left me - pathetic really - so I will whistle up a fave Thai red curry tonight to bolster his flagging spirits. And tomorrow we'll start our Easter hols early and set off, at last, for Northwich (sidetrip to Costa) and Vale Royal, Winsford etc. We are really looking forward to just relaxing and chugging, cruising and chilling for a few days as it's been a busy old time of late. And it will be very nice to actually see the rest of the Weaver - it's like Tantalus at the mo, all the goodies just out of reach, but we'll make up for this extended stay-put by going up and down a couple of times for good measure. The dogs will certainly be pleased to see their master - Monty has taken to snuffling down inside the bed on A's side, rearranging his pillow, and trying not to get too upset when he rushes into the saloon only to find mummy coming through the door. I wouldn't mind but who feeds and walks him? There's gratitude...

Flat cat

I forgot to share this with you and I must because I don't know whether it makes Arthur really clever or really thick. We were walking back along the towpath yesterday, me, him and Miffy and he suddenly stops dead in his tracks. He's turned his head and is looking intently at this boat Annie. And I mean really intently, standing-stock-still-and-not-moving-a-whisker intently. I follow his gaze and there's a cat on this boat. But not a 3D live cat posing on the gunwale...but a 2D painted cat adorning the cabin side. A very lifelike painted cat obviously but Arthur would have been a long time waiting for it to move...

Good dogs, naughty dogs

Choosing to walk the dogs in two shifts each time (while we're on non-home territory) must be doing wonders for my waistline - and it's also opened up a whole new world of the 'walk without fear'. Allow me to explain. When I go out with any combination of the toppest of top dogs Susie, anxious, fragile Monty and the greyhound world's answer to Frankie Fraser, Ranger, I am always anxious. I'm probably overly anxious and it's my own fault for not dealing with the issues at source but I'm constantly on the lookout for 'problems' - problems largely being innocent, nice dogs hoving into view on the horizon that might, just might, come close enough to get my lot kicking off. Now it is limited to kicking off...well, it has been thus far..so maybe I just need to accept I've got a mouthy crew, but it's a shame that I don't feel that I can let my dogs mix and mingle as dogs should (and which would no doubt address the fundamental issue, that they are not fully socialised). But I just don't want to take any risks...

So how nice it was today to take out Arthur and Miffy on their own and not to have to worry about a thing...they are pretty bombproof these two, but obviously in a pack of five, three baddies always outgun two goodies. But on their own they were a delight, enjoying an off lead romp and rummage along the towpath as we walked from Barnton Pool back to the Lift. They behaved impeccably when they met a young pup - they ignored it actually - and came back when called and didn't hare off to find the nearest road...the perfect recipe for dog walking bliss. So Arthur and Miffy are now officially the A team and Susie, Monty and Ranger are...well, it begins with B, and ends in uggers. Still love 'em though. And I shouldn't really blame them for their mummy's mistakes...