Saturday 14th Sept
Penny's birthday today, and by mid-morning there was a good collection of cards gracing the window in the middle of the boat. We marked the occasion in various ways during the day, including sherry in mid afternoon and a bottle of champagne in the early evening. We got the boat under way in good time, about seven o'clock. Just time for breakfast before we hit the Buckby flight — the only locks before we join the Leicester Ring. These locks were wide ones and we went through with a boat called Jessie, operated by a couple who lived in Saffron Waldron and keep their boat at Gayton. While working the locks, there was plenty of time for conversation, and they mentioned one occasion when they went to their daughter's wedding by boat and stayed there rather than a hotel.
We reached the Watford flight at 10.40. We had to wait quite a while before the lock keeper was ready for us. There was a boat ahead of us and he had to get the boats lined up ready for the four-stage staircase section in the middle of the flight. Once we were on the staircase, though, it all went pretty quickly. Between one chamber of the staircase and the next, there were two sets of gear, one painted red and the other white. The lock keeper told us, 'Red then white, that's all right; white then red, you're all dead!' The paddles coded in red let the water in from the side ponds and the white ones drained the upper chamber into the side ponds. Don't ask me about it; I always get a headache when I try to work out what is going on in staircase locks!
We finished Watford at ten to twelve and came to the Crick tunnel at ten past. This was where we discovered that the headlight wasn't working. Afterwards we looked at the light with a view to replacing it, but the filament certainly looked intact. It can't be the fuse either, because some other lights come on when the headlight is turned on, and they were still working. As they're worked by the same switch, it is difficult to see how they could be on different fuses. One thing that came to mind as I saw the lights of a boat approaching us in the tunnel. I remembered the scene in C S Lewis' The Silver Chair, where they are sailing across the subterranean lake, and the recurring phrase in that part of the book, 'Many come down but few return to the sunlit lands'. You only have to be in a tunnel for ten or fifteen minutes, and the world outside seems quite a long way away. We moored near to Crick village at about a quarter to one and went to have a look around for a pub.
There were three or four pubs to choose from. We went for the Red Lion, which turned out to be very pleasant. We sat outside, in a seated area with comfortable garden chairs, with flowers in hanging baskets around us. We didn't have anything to eat there, as Penny had baked some rolls and we had some cheese and other goodies to use up. We started up again at about half past two. On the way back to the boat I had bought some fuse wire. When I finished the journal last night I tried to put the laptop onto charge, and found that the 12 volt socket wasn't working. I looked into this during the morning and discovered a car-type fuse behind the cover plate, and this had obviously blown. It didn't take long to improvise a replacement fuse using the fuse wire, but it took rather longer to get the socket back in place, as the plastic that was holding it in position had broken. I eventually wedged it into place using some pieces of pencil eraser, which I cut to size using Alan's penknife.
While I was struggling with the electrics, I gather there was a 'Captain Ahab incident'. We use this name to refer to any bad tempered or otherwise objectionable people we come across on the canals. Fortunately it doesn't happen often. I didn't hear the full details, but it seems that in going round a sharp corner Alan took the boat right up close to one of the moored boats. There was certainly no impact; though I was below decks I'd have noticed anything like that. Still, it seems the chap got quite shirty and made a point of noting the number of our boat. Perhaps he intended some sort of insurance swindle. We'll just have to wait and see.
During the day the weather got steadily cooler and more cloudy, with a wind from the north (as far as I could reckon). Though it didn't rain at any stage, I found that I needed to put on a long sleeve shirt, then a jacket, and then a sweatshirt as well. The latter part of the afternoon was uneventful, though we cruised through some rather attractive countryside and woodland. We reached Bosworth tunnel at 6.40 and were through it in twenty minutes. We moored at five past seven and went off into the village of Husband's Bosworth. As we walked through the village I looked to see what time the services were in the Anglican church, but at half past ten they were too late to be any use to us. Later I consulted the Catholic Directory and found (to my surprise) that there's a Mass at a quarter past eight in the Hall. I'll go to that and catch the others up later.
On the way through the village we asked for directions to the pub, from a chap wheeling his bicycle in the opposite direction. He was quite chatty and told us that there had been about six or more pubs in the village, but that they were now down to one, The Bell. Though 'not a pub person' himself, he was able to direct us. It wasn't what I'd call a great pub, and the advertised karioke on Saturday evenings wasn't a great inducement as far as I was concerned. We had a pint there, and then went back to the boat, as our plan was to have a pasta supper, which June cooked for us. We finished off with some cheese, plus the Dundee cake that Penny had cooked earlier — of which Maddie had already eaten half while we were in the pub at lunchtime. We decorated the half-cake with little candles and sang 'Happy Birthday'. We were glad we had saved at least that much of the cake, as it had turned out splendidly and went down a treat.
Thinking of Maddie's misdemeanors reminds me of a story about another dog I knew, belonging to a priest who earlier in his life had been a Scripture lecturer in a seminary. The dog was a large, well meaning but not very bright Dalmatian called Jezebel. Once, when the Bishop was visiting, Jezebel ate a large chunk out of his coat, and her owner had to pay for a new one. The following Sunday he brought Jezebel into church with a large placard around her neck, saying, 'A repentent sinner'.