Another lazy start after a very pleasant evening; it ended with a firework display that was even better than the Fifth of November one last year. We ambled into the village for bread and paper, noting the rather battered state of the field used as a car park; even though there wasn't a lot of rain yesterday, the ground was so sodden to start with that it had soon cut up.
After lunch we had a stroll through the site again, stopping to listen to a ukulele group playing everything from Bowie to Rolling Stones via Dylan. It's a bit surreal hearing Paint It Black played on three ukes and sung by an older lady.
We got some salad veg from the market garden stall, some olives in rosemary and blackcurrant and some mini beets in spicy pickle from the pickle stall, and a couple of unusual Scotch eggs, one in a sausage and black pudding casing and a duck egg in hoi sin sauce flavoured casing from a stall specialising in Scotch Eggs would you believe. So, together with some new potatoes, that's dinner sorted.
We had a chat with Harry Arnold on our way round. He told us that the river is so high at Alrewas that you can't see the indicator board. It's the first time we've known that section actually close, and means we're probably hanging about here for a bit longer.
Coming back to the boat, we pottered about. A washload has been run, and I've done the latest update to the Braidbar Owners' Group Pub Guide. Sheila is checking the BBC tennis website from time to time; I offered to put the live commentary on the radio, but she says she couldn't handle the tension. It's one set all as I type.
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