The North Oxford runs alongside the M6 motorway for many miles which raises the question "why did they construct canals close to motorways, or railways for that matter?" If the weather improves we aim to get on the South Oxford canal tomorrow and subsequently the River Thames near the weekend. the following statement was sent by a fellow blogger following my vacant adventures yesterday
Thursday, 20 June 2013
Tardis 2. Nuneaton 0.
Having returned from the land of the fairies and back to some semblance of sanity (me) it was decided we would set off early before the forecast rain could start. It was cloudy but warm first, then changed to sunny and hot before changing back to where it started. We beat Nuneaton for the second time without incident or injury, hence the title, with thanks to my computer expert Terry in Verona, Italy, who once again rescued my blog by an emergency dongle top-up. Bless him. We made good progress to Hawksbury Junction just in time to entertain lunching gongoozlers at the Greyhound pub, which sits overlooking the tightest U turn on the canal system where the Coventry and North Oxford canals join, which no doubt offers endless entertainment. Both canals run parallel for a mile or so before joining, apparently to maximise toll charges for both. We passed Mancetter where Boadicia's last battle with the Romans took place in AD 60. 80,000 of her "troops "were slain, which almost makes Tony Blair appear a saint in comparison. Her only saving grace was committing suicide soon after. We managed to collect our Sky cable from a very strange boater at Stretton Stop before the heavens suddenly opened, dumping monsoon-like rain on everyone. All boaters were in a mad frenzy to moor before drowning, including us. Our first pins-only mooring exercise for many weeks. I was just about to say I'll let you know how successful the exercise was in the morning but some ignorant owner/boater just charged by at one hell of a rate,dragging our front pins free in the process. He had gone by the time I found some dry wet-weather gear to put on to shout at him and attempt to rescue the situation, which I did, just in time for another prat to"flash" past as I gave him a verbal assault. Once again I returned inside drenched to the skin. Our shower now resembles a laundry. We must be the only boaters to follow the rules and slow down when passing moored vessels.
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