Monday Speedo's

A bright, sunny start to the new week with lots of greyish wispy clouds floating around in a fresh breeze. Still warm, though. Moored near a place with the unlikely name of Lower Shuckburgh. Imagine trying to convey your home address to someone  in a call centre on the end of the phone in outer India who has English as her third language?  Working for Network Rail or some other British institution. The buffalo herd at the bottom of Napton locks mentioned in a previous blog I can confirm as water buffalo.    A fellow boater mentioned a local brand of buffalo ice cream to me earlier but I dismissed it as a joke at the time. It is hardly an appealing flavour, even to the new hardened, street-wise breed of children? In the event it turns out they use the milk, rather than the meat. I have yet to try it but will report if ever I do.

Talking of Napton locks I luckily managed to stop a young, new boater opening sluices without closing those on the gates above. The result would have been flooding around areas of the lower canal and no water in the upper portion. The logic was lost on him at the time but I am sure his pretty girl friend/wife/lover (delete as appropriate) got a surprise Eureka! Moment during the night.

The following leisurely cruise to Braunston proved uneventful, although the scenery was breathtaking. We moored near the village and walked to a chandlery near the lower lock, recommended by the owner of Baba O'Reilly ( the boat, not the Who track). We needed to replace the duff MCC wind lasses and some fenders inevitably lost in our travels, plus stock up on boating essentials. We discussed our electrical problems and received confirmation any fault is more likely due to the boat builder than us, giving more ammunition to our eventual claim. Looking for night moorings on the way to Rugby we spotted a likely place, which we pulled into, only to be approached by a very white, middle-aged chap in A pair of Speedo's leaving little to the imagination. he asked several questions and I answered as follows:  Q. Are you mooring?    A. Yes.        Q. Do you have pins?    A. Yes but do you need some?    He confirmed he had some but suggested I find an alternative mooring site as boats pass very fast and pull them out. Lynne and I immediately decided to move-on, not due to the alleged pin problem but more because of Speedo fear. Further along the North Oxford canal we finally moored, only to be side-swiped by a Viking hire narrowboat, fresh from collection. The young offender blamed his girlfriend/wife/lover (delete as appropriate) but half-heartedly

apologised anyway.