Back on the Macc

We've made it back to the Macclesfield, but first, last night's untoward event: Sally's bowl in the cut. We were sitting peaceably in the saloon before I got started on cooking dinner, with Sally's bowl out on the towpath as usual. We put a sign alongside it saying "Dogs: please share my waterbowl, I'm not using it today" with a picture of her ladyship fetchingly attired in her buoyancy aid.

It's a popular move with many passing dogs and indeed the humans, whether accompanied by canines or not. There's also an invisible letter on the sign, seemingly, as we often hear folk reading it out in the local accent: "Dogs, please share my waterbowl, I'm not using it today, AR!"

Anyway, as I say, there we were when there was a big splash just in front of the bow and the sound of feeble adult remonstrations. A passing three year old had picked up the bowl, emptied it of water and then, without his parents doing anything effective about it, thrown it in the cut. It's stainless steel and sank instantly. I shot out of the cabin, furious remonstrations on my lips, looked at the brat and his progenitors (if such they were), decided that he'd not exactly drawn the winning ticket in the lottery of life and gave up.

It was too nice an evening to embark on hopeless missions like parent training of strangers. I did point out to the child that he'd done a bad thing, but was met with a blank stare. Since there was just a chance that the stainless steel wasn't of very good quality, I got the magnet out and tried a few casts around the area of the sinking, but didn't even feel it hit the bowl, which had probably half floated away as it went down.

The parents, to be fair, did offer to pay for the bowl, except they hadn't got any money on them, and would we still be here tomorrow? All you can say is "forget it" under those circumstances. The child then removed the cardboard sleeve from his ice lolly and threw that in the water, followed by most of the lolly itself whilst Sheila was recovering the tube with a boathook. Still the parents did no more than bleat at him and finally took him away.

Right, on to today, which has been very good again. We set out at seven, arrived at the tunnel at half past to find that we were second in the queue. The tunnel keeper turned up a bit late – a problem with transport, seemingly – but then got on with it and by half past eight we were on our way through, second in a convoy of three.

It was an uneventful passage and I managed the exit and the subsequent turn onto the Macc at Hardings Wood without disgracing myself. It's been a warm dry day with little wind. On arrival at the Little Moreton Hall moorings we found La Suvera still here and shared another coffee with them before they set off for Bosley and we had lunch.

This afternoon, we walked the mile to the Hall and spent a couple of hours there, having the guided tour (brillant, well worth waiting for it to start) and then mooching about inside and out. It's an amazing example of Tudor architecture, no one floor either even or at the same level as any other. The guide was full of information both about the history of the place and the derivation of phrases such as "chairman of the board" and "above board".

Tomorrow, through Congleton to Buglawton.