Getting better

The wind did indeed drop overnight – it was so quiet we slept really badly…

/floor

Still it meant that getting going in the morning was easier as we were awake well before 7. After a quick breakfast we got sorted and set off without even checking the email. Although it was quite a bit calmer, there were still the occasional awkward gusts and it was cool enough that I was glad I had put a waterproof on over my fleece.

We had a good run round Stafford, hotly pursued by a Napton Narrowboats hire boat, probably on the way back to their base at Autherley. Sheila put a washload on and by half ten it was nearly done as we approached our second lock of the day, Deptmore (or Deepmore, whichever). Come to think of it the two locks, Tixall and Deptmore, are a real contrast. The first is so shallow the lockwheeler can cross from one side of the lock to the other by stepping onto and over the roof, the other is one of the deepest on the system.

There was a boat waiting to come down as Sanity Again rose from the depths, which was handy for Sheila. As I boated out, a terrible clattering noise sounded from below. "Doesn't sound too good" said the other lockwheeler.

"Oh, just a lump of wood" said I cheerfully, but in fact the steering felt very odd and chucking back brought more wierd noises. The boat was still going where I pointed her, though, and the noise had stopped, so I staggered on to our usual towpath mooring.

As we tied, a strange lump of plastic emerged from below the counter. Once all was secure, I fished it out with the cabin shaft. It looks like part of the front end moulding of an upmarket motor:

Touch of the Darth Vaders...

The washing machine hadn't quite finished, so we had a cup of coffee whilst it did so. Once I could turn the engine off I went down the weedhatch; all was well – the plastic was soft enough that it hadn't done any damage. There's a guy in WRG known as Mark II who could probably tell us what car it's off, but I haven't a clue.

We've had a quiet afternoon. It's not quite warm enough to sit outside and too gusty still for the whirligig, so we've dropped the cratch and put the clothes rack in the well deck. We've been loafing since, trying not to doze off over books and puzzles.

A cheerful hooting drew our attention to a passing boat; Chris and Lesley on Eleventh Heaven were just going by, on their way to Penkridge, they said. Maybe we'll see them tomorrow.