A damp day's run to Day's.

We had a good meal last night; not the best ever, or even in the last few months, but we were both looking for a traditional steak and chips type meal, and the Boathouse, which overlooks the river by Wallingford Bridge, provided that at a very reasonable price.

It’s a chain pub, but with a decent pint of Brakspear, and cheerful service. We managed to eat outside, only needing to put sweatshirts on over our short sleeves towards the end of our stay, and had the pleasure of ogling Sanity Again on her mooring on the other side throughout.

We’ve done just another short run up river today; Abingdon is really only a day’s boating from Wallingford, but since we don’t want to be there until tomorrow, we’ve come to Day’s Lock instead. Rather than pay for a mooring in the weir stream (they look good, but I’m not sure there's room to wind Sanity Again in there, and I certainly didn’t fancy reversing in), we’ve come on to a meadow mooring a bit further upstream.

Before that, we tried the nearer meadow just on the right above the lock as you come upstream, but Sanity Again’s draft was a bit too much for it. As it is, we’re using the plank for the first time, having got the bow reasonably close, and left the stern a bit further out, so as to be sure of getting away in the morning.

There was a huge herd of cows in the field when we got here, including this big boy:

They’ve ambled off now, not that they were particularly threatening in the first place.

After lunch and a doze in the fresher weather, we went for a wander up and down the Thames Path which runs along here. Sheila got very excited by the appearance of a strange looking duck, which she’s identified as a goosander in eclipse plumage:

The weather has indeed broken, and waterproofs were needed for the steerer this morning, but it’s not been very heavy; a few thundery showers, basically, with, as I say, the virtue of a much fresher feel to the air.

It might even be possible to get a decent night’s sleep tonight. In addition, I've tweaked up the stern gland again; Sheila was woken by the bilge pump running last night, which is always a bit alarming.