I think I have more to write about the holiday, but I’m too tired to do it tonight, so I’ll catch up with the day.

Weeza was going to London today, so I went and fetched Gus yesterday afternoon and he stayed last night and today.  He is such a good little boy, it’s been lovely.  He’s never stayed on his own before and he was a bit worried, asking about his mother several times as I put him to bed, but he went to sleep at once and didn’t wake until about 8 o’clock this morning.  He had an egg for breakfast, then went to spend an hour or so with Roses as I had a meeting this morning, we made cakes this afternoon and – well, it all seemed quite busy.  But I picked up Zerlina from school, took them home and gave them tea (salmon, pasta with home-made pesto, grated cheese, aforementioned cakes) and left them with their father (his dinner was trout en papillote with Jersey Royal potatoes and St Peter’s beer) and came back to show someone some wood they are interested in buying.  I had toasted cheese and lots of salad for supper.  The trout was meant to be for me, but I thought it would be too late for me to bother with cooking it.

I only could stay for an hour for this morning’s meeting, so had to ask to have my say and record my vote on a particular matter in advance.  It went the way I wanted and I had an email to thank me later.  Once in a while, one feels one makes a difference.

Now, I’m going to bed. I’m so tired every night.  I never used to be tired before midnight, not sure what has happened to the Z I used to be.

Thursday morning, I found it a bit hard to get up. I’d been awake most of the night which isn’t unusual, but I’d fallen asleep at just the wrong time. So we were under way by the time I was dressed and Mig was opening the first lifting bridge by herself, which I was sorry about. Only one person at a time can do it but we usually take turns. I don’t mind them as much as she does, so I did the next couple myself.

We went through the final staircase of three locks plus three more and were told of a hotel boat, or rather two boats, one pulling another. We were intrigued. There’s only room for one at a time in the lock so the second would have to be pulled through manually.  Neither Mig nor Barney had ever seen this being done, so we all wanted to look – unfortunately, we were so eager that no one remembered a camera and so, apart from a single snap on Barney’s phone (we’d left those on the boat too, me and Mig) there is nothing to remind us.

When we arrived, the lead boat was coming through the first lock gate.  We suspected that the second boat had been brought as close as possible and tied to the lock.  The water level was raised and the lead boat went through and was tied in place, just beyond the second gate.  Then the water in the lock was lowered again and they had to start pulling the second boat through.  A young man and a young woman were on top of the boat, pushing against the top of the lock whilst the man in charge, a rangy, capable bloke with a broad-brimmed hat, pulled the rope.  Then, as it came through – once it starts, of course its own momentum brought it on – the girl got off and took the stern rope, ready to tie it again, so that the boat wouldn’t press against the second gate as it opened.

Are you with me so far?

We knew that she was quite new to this job as the older man was calling instructions to her, but she was so nimble and prompt that she was clearly experienced on a narrowboat.  The Top Bloke tied the bows to the second part of the lock.  Then the water level was raised, he backed the lead boat to be joined to the second boat and they chugged through.  It was really worth watching, we were glad to have seen it – and amused ourselves thinking of the palaver of getting through the stairway of three adjoining locks.

Later, I steered again for a lot of the way, taking us through a lock unaided at last, just to show I could do it, while Barney and Mig operated the lock.  Barney did a final couple of locks and I found operating them exhausting, I’ve pulled a muscle or something in my tum.  Frankly, I didn’t know my stomach had muscles.  Anyway, I didn’t feel it at the time, just that my arms were struggling, but I have since.  It’s getting better.

We arrived back at the marina, filled up with fuel and got ready for the evening.  We were having dinner first and Zoë and Richard were joining us for a drink afterwards.  They are both delightful, we had a lovely hour or two chatting together and I’m sure we will meet again – I’ve offered them a place to stay here of course, any time they want to come to Norfolk.

The next morning, Mig and I packed while Barney cooked breakfast and then we cleared everything away while Barney washed the outside of the boat.  Inside, they use a valet service except for the windows, funnily enough, which I cleaned.  On the outside, doing the side not against the wharf was interesting.  I had to balance on the gunwale, which is the width of my foot, and bend down to clean the window.  I didn’t fall in.

And then we said goodbye and drove home.

As you will see, I was writing this up daily and am posting it unchanged, so it may be a bit disjointed.   A couple more posts will see it through, I should think.  I’m finally downloading photos, nearly 300 of them – Mig must have thousands.  Anyway, this is what I wrote a week ago –

I have arranged a blog meet with Zoë, onetime Pandora ‘My Boyfriend is a Twat’, late of Brussels, now in Crewe. We are Facebook friends as fellow tortoise owners, as well as through blogging. This is for Thursday night. In the meantime, the journey back will be fairly relaxed. Maybe I will manage a few locks.

For the first time, I’m up to date with writing this log. Now 10.45 on Monday night and we’re all ready for bed. All this fresh air and exercise. And alcohol, hem hem…

Tuesday. It’s cold and windy, though a sunny day. Moderate traffic on the canal and we haven’t had to wait at the couple of locks we’ve been through, though were fortunate in having the water level right as we went in the first and someone wanting to come after us the other way, so we could leave the end gate open. We are heading for a side canal, the Montgomery Canal, where one can only use the Frampton locks between 12 and 2 pm and that by booking ahead. There has been a lot of restoration along here over the last 30 years, it having been abandoned by its owners, the LMS railway, following a breach in 1936. A breach is when a canal bursts its bank and can be quite disastrous – in this case, it happened at an aqueduct and a new one was finally built to replace it. We will go along this canal this afternoon, for the 7 miles that have been restored, and return tomorrow morning, to rejoin the Llangollen canal.

Tuesday 28th, 6.30 pm

We have come to the end of the navigable part of the Montgomery canal after four hours’ travel and are all sitting companionably with glasses of wine, each of us planning to shower and change before heading for the pub, where we have a table booked for 7.45. Mig and I have opened and closed a number of locks – I’ve lost count, there were four close together, then another and – oh, maybe 8 altogether. The canal is quiet and lovely, with lots of wildlife. It is also shallow and we have been close to aground on several occasions. I steered for some time and negotiated my way onto the short aqueduct as if I really knew what I was doing. Mig kindly operated the throttle for me, bending down to that was one job too far, but it went well, as did a bridge and a narrow bit that I barely scraped at all, hem hem. The day warmed up and the wind became less keen and we all shed a few layers.

We will have to leave in good time in the morning, as the locks at the end are only open from 12 until 2 daily, but we have already turned round because Barney is a man of sound sense and practicality.

I occasionally get a 3G signal for a few minutes, but it’s not time enough to post anything, so I’m just occasionally bobbing up on Facebook for a few minutes, which is how I contacted Zoë. As ever, I marvel at how smartphones and wifi has changed our lives. I’m not among those who say it’s too much, too far, we’re dominated by them and so on – this is all good, as far as I’m concerned.

Excellent meal and we all tasted each others’ food and approved. Very full. I’m quite concerned about the weight I’m going to have gained by the time I get home. We start with a substantial cooked breakfast, have cake for a snack and then eat lunch, then have a big meal in the evening. I’m known for never missing a meal, but this is pushing it.

On Wednesday, we set out early, at 8 o’clock, because we wanted to get through the locked locks in time. They open at noon and you have to be there by two, and have booked in – this is no one being awkward, but an agreement with the nature conservancy people that this 7 mile stretch of canal may be used, but in strict moderation. We had to wait – there was only one boat ahead of us, but one coming the other way too. It’s most efficient to have boats go through alternate ways. But we made good time after that and I steered pretty well, later in the afternoon, through several bridges. Not so good at the first one, which was fine as far as it went, but afterwards I turned a bit late and we ran aground again. Barney has done too, it can happen when you’re passing another boat or going past a narrow bit, but I’m the one doing it through ignorance and he certainly isn’t. But anyway, after that I actually started to get a feel for it and know what to do when without having to think it through too much.

Tonight, Thursday, we’re moored on a bend near a bridge. It’ll take about 8 hours to get back to the marina and we hope to be there between 4 and 5 tomorrow. We will start to pack up, go out for dinner, meet Zoë and Richard and then, the next morning, finish loading our cars and leaving the boat tidy.

The boat’s living accommodation is as limited as the term ‘narrowboat’ suggests. It’s quite adequate but the storage space in the living and sleeping quarters is not as well designed, in this particular boat, as the kitchen’s is. There’s a splendid and quite roomy shower, with loo and washbasin but there’s also a second lavatory for the aft cabin, which hardly seems necessary and you’d think the space would be better used for something else – there is a rail and hangers in there but, as Mig says, it feels quite wrong to hang clothes in the toilet. In the living area there’s a sofa which turns into a bed and two armchairs that turn into single beds, though that’s quite a kerfuffle apparently. There are also two tables, a small square one and a larger one, that can be put up when wanted. There are radiators and a stove – this is all fine and very comfortable, but space to put clothes and other things is almost non-existent apart from a very small hanging wardrobe. Still, it’s comfortable for four, though I think that six people would find it cramped.

On Sunday, we headed for the end of the line at Llangollen. This was to be the most interesting and beautiful part of the trip and we have been so lucky with the weather, because what we wanted – and got – was a clear sky and not too much wind. The temperature didn’t matter – by this time, I was wearing a lot of layers, including tights under my jeans. Mig and Barney have been this way in rain and very strong winds.

I had decided that this was the day I should get to grips with bridges. Having worked out what I was doing wrong, I reckoned that I should simply line the boat up just left or right of centre of the bridge, depending where the tow path was, and then trust myself. And it did the trick. I did three bridges nearly perfectly – well, the first was acceptable, the second was perfect and the third was very good although I wavered rather anxiously over the canal afterwards as there was a moored boat and a bend immediately afterwards and, though I negotiated them all right, it took me quite some time to get my line back afterwards. Maybe because of that, the next couple of bridges weren’t great. Still, I wasn’t too unhappy with myself. I handed the tiller back to Barney after that as things were going to get interesting – tunnels, narrows and, spectacularly, aqueducts.

Having raised ourselves so much with locks, we went for some 20 miles before encountering two more and then they were the last. We reached Chirk and the first aqueduct, which also marked the boundary from England with Wales. There were several bridges, which I was glad not to be dealing with as they were tricky, especially one immediately followed by a blind corner, two tunnels and a lifting bridge, then the main aqueduct.

I can hardly begin to describe it, nor the effect it had on me. Not only is it a magnificent edifice, but the wonder that men built it, over two hundred years ago – the grandeur of the concept, the quality of the design and its execution, the courage and skill of the workmen, the fact that it was built while there was a war on (it took ten years to build and was finished in 1805), the actuality of riding over it, walking along the tow path, feeling quite wobbly on occasion but too thrilled by the views and the experience to let any of that stop me, clutching my iPad and feeling quite sure I was going to drop it at any moment – this aqueduct is 127 feet in the air, over 1,000 feet long and boats still ride over it, it is in daily use for the purpose it was originally built, even if recreationally rather than industrially – words aren’t working and nor will photos. What I mean, I think, is that I had seen photos but the reality is breathtaking. I could not help thinking about Thomas Telford’s concept and the men who had so bravely worked on building this edifice over ten years. It was windy up there and we were safe. They weren’t. I was looking around at the view and feeling a touch of vertigo, they were working on, however they felt and trying to ignore the drop that they would suffer if they made a mistake. I hoped they felt the pride of their part in this achievement. After a while, I got back on the boat and felt less wobbly – though I realised, later, that part of it wasn’t vertigo but sea legs because the ground moved when I was standing still in Llangollen too, later.

We reached the town at around half past five, turned round and moored. Mig had phoned earlier and booked a table at a lovely restaurant called the Corn Mill. We had time to shower and change and warm up – after the warmth of the weather last week, it has been cold (I may have mentioned this already) and we were very high up and, when on the boat and particularly on the aqueducts, quite exposed to the elements. Mind you, Mig and Barney have had far worse weather there, including such strong winds that the boats were pretty well uncontrollable.

We had a gorgeous meal – Mig started with a basil panna cotta which I’ve not come across as a savoury dish before but was delicious (we are tasters of each others’ food) and served with several varieties of tomato, tapenade and a lovely (she said, she didn’t share that!) crisp slice of tomato that had been dried and possibly fried – it looked like a biscuit. Barney and I shared a charcuterie platter that also had chicken liver pâté, piccalilli made with fresh mustard powder (I know members of the Colman family, I know my mustard), a delicious onion marmalade, some wonderful little onions pickled in balsamic vinegar, I’m sure – I must find out how to do that – various other bits and pieces including marvellous olives and two sorts of home made bread. After that, they both had sea bass and I had crab linguine. After dinner, Mig and Barney went outside to look at the River Dee, but I discovered I had wifi! so went on to Facebook instead, until I heard about the splendid water wheel, so I did go out to look at it before lurching back inside for coffee. At the end of the evening, we had at least half of our second bottle of wine left, so I took it back to the boat.

The next morning, which was Monday, we shopped in Llandudno, which was jolly good as there was an independent greengrocer as well as a proper butcher, before coffee at the quay and then a horse-drawn boat trip up the canal – I know! darlings, the whole tourist experience and so it should be – before we set off downstream again. Lovely Barney steered the whole way because it needed someone who wasn’t going to panic (exit me) and who enjoyed it (exit Mig). I decided not to take pictures going over the aqueduct this time but enjoy the experience, though found I was still a bit woozy and couldn’t just turn around but had to lean on the railings for security before I looked all about at the wonderful views and the fields and River Dee far below. Then the boat caught up with me and I got on and steered the rest of the way – which will look good on Mig’s photo, but was not really steering at all because the aqueduct is so narrow that there’s nowhere to go wrong.

I opened the bridge but didn’t have to close it as there was another boat following us, and we kept going on down the canal, waiting for other boats when necessary. It was all quite relaxed, patient but not frustrating, as it will be later in the season. Back into England over the Chirk aqueduct, then we stopped and moored outside a pub. Barney and I went for a pint or two, he having prepared dinner (I’m being absurdly well looked after and have grown out of nearly all my clothes) and lurched back, I having forgotten jacket and handbag, and having to turn back.  Once we were on the boat, I listened to him speak and knew he had had a drop too much and that meant I had too, though I’d had a pint less than him.

Then we had wine with dinner.  Remarkably, none of us had any trace of a hangover at any time that week.  We must have worked off the alcohol in advance, as we didn’t drink during the day, apart from the occasional tot of rum for the steersman (me or Barney, Mig neither steering nor liking rum).

I haven’t downloaded photos yet, I must do that – this site really doesn’t like uploading more than one or two so, if they’re worth posting, I may put them up on my old Blogger blog. But not tonight.  I’m tired and a bit dismal, not that there has been anything amiss with the day.

I left home on Friday morning, aiming to reach Nantwich around 1.45. It took an extra half-hour because of the speed restrictions on the main roads. At least it shows they are doing upgrades, not just repairs. I still arrived before Mig and Barney because they were caught in the same traffic on the M6 as I was.

When they say narrowboat, that’s just what they mean. It takes a while to get used to, especially as there is only the smallest ledge (I seem to remember, from far ago boating on the Broads, that this is the gunwales) around the outsides, so getting on and off needs good timing. One is not a mere passenger, I’ve been learning the ropes, though actual ropes have little to do with it. I knew the theory of locks of course, but it’s far more fascinating to actually operate them and see the way they work. Mig and I get off the boat, each bearing a windlass to operate the winding mechanism, wait for the water levels to equal each side of the lock if necessary (it depends on which way the last boat was travelling) then open it to let Barney drive in, then close the gate behind him and go to the other end to level the water again. You’re opening the gate into the higher channel so can’t open it against the weight of water until they’re completely equal. We came through a staircase of three locks today which was an interesting amount of to-ing and fro-ing and raised us quite a lot. There was a mother with two small children watching with interest and some excitement, increased when Barney offered to let them ride in the boat for the last two locks. They were lovely little girls, big grins on their faces – which isn’t at all surprising, going through a lock for the first time is great fun. That third one in particular rose a good deal and, when the water rushed in and splashed onto the bow of the boat, it must have felt quite dramatic.

I was given a turn at steering on the first day. I caught on quickly to the direction to turn the tiller – some people instinctively turn it the wrong way but I didn’t often do that because I’ve spent a lot of time in boats, though not much for some years, and I learned the principles of them before I was old enough to to realise I was – but I still made a lot of mistakes. Going under bridges is still, after the second day, my tricky problem. Indeed, I was too close to the right-hand bank and grounded the boat once, to my embarrassment. Barney used the pole to shove us off – you need someone strong on a narrowboat. I’ve finally worked out what I’m doing wrong, I think, and that’s a consequence of my lack of height. I can’t see how close I am to the side, lean out to look and in those few moments, the tiller might go anywhere. In correcting my direction, I lose my nice straight line. So what I think I have to do is decide on a line and believe in it. You can’t just head for the centre as there is a towpath on one side under the bridge, and there really isn’t much room to spare, maybe a foot or two each side. In addition, there is also quite often a bend in the canal just before or after a bridge. If before, you have to line up fairly smartly and if after, it’s a challenge to know the moment to start turning without catching the end of the boat against the narrow channel. I haven’t mastered it.

I’m not bad at managing bends, though. I like bends. Pushing the tiller in the direction you don’t want to go, correcting it as soon as the boat starts to respond, then doing it again – I seem to have gained the knack of that reasonably well. I can lose confidence when passing a moored boat on a bend with another one coming in the opposite direction, though.

Then there are the locks. Barney would quite like me to master going through locks because then he could have a go at working them. Mig isn’t fond of steering, largely for the same reason I find it tricky: a lack of height. What makes going into them awkward is that one doesn’t have a steady approach, one has to wait while the others open the lock and it’s easy to lose the line and drift, especially as there’s an overflow channel at the side which catches the boat and pushes it across – though this will not be a problem on the return, downward journey. Once in the lock, you have to go into reverse fairly smartly so as not to hit the forward gate and come to a halt resting gently on the gates which the others have closed behind you. You would think that the rushing water from the upper level would keep you pushed back, but that only happens until it hits the back gate, then it starts to force the boat forward again, so you have to keep the reverse thrust going. Eventually, the water levels and then you just wait for the forward gate to be opened, drive out and then come across to the towpath bank for the others to get on.

The differences between a river and a canal that keep surprising me are that the water is still, pretty well, because of the lack of current, and that there are areas where the water is higher than the ground beyond the towpath. I’m not sure I’d like to live in one of those low-lying houses. Not that there are many houses, we are going through lovely rural countryside. The water is also shallow. These are narrow canals, which make the locks less hard to push open and closed.

On the first night, we went out for supper at a nice pub and it was quiz night. We acquitted ourselves reasonably well, coming second, and also sank a lot of alcohol. I’d not entirely like to tell you how much. The second night we stopped at Ellesmere and Mig cooked a chicken curry which went down rather well. And we only had a couple of modest glasses each. All three of us are equally keen on food, in quality and quantity, which is good.