A cunning change to the cunning plan

One minor mystery of the cut – how come you can moor apparently in the middle of nowhere, like where we were last night, and, all day and all evening, joggers come pounding past? I mean, obviously, there must be housing nearer than you think, but it’s really quite unusual not to see joggers and dog walkers, wherever you tie.

Ah well, no matter. We had a very peaceful night and woke in good time this morning, such that we were on our way by 7.45. It had stopped raining, but was still very windy, something that’s going to be an issue for a couple of weeks, seemingly. Sheila steered and reported that the wind was tedious but not impossible, especially as it was on the bow for much of the time. We had a good run to Wheaton Aston, locked down and went on the water point.

Whilst the tank was filling, only moderately quickly, we considered our options in the light of the forecast for a storm on Wednesday with the high winds continuing into Thursday. We were running two days ahead of the draft cruising schedule, which only estimates two hours cruising per day. If we carried on to Gnosall today and to Market Drayton tomorrow (the last really fine day this month, it seems) we’d be able to take a couple of days out at Drayton and still be ahead of schedule.

So that was decided upon, as Stanley Holloway would say. We made it to Gnosall just on noon and found a good spot on the first visitor moorings after the tunnel, just a bit before the road bridge. As regular readers will recall, Gnosall is short for Gnosignall, though there’s now a decent 3 connection but still no Vodafone.

We’ve walked up into the village to get some supplies, partly to make sure we’ve got enough for lunch tomorrow and partly just to top up, the Co-op here being nearer (and a downhill walk back to the boat) than Morrisons in Drayton. Obviously, we’ll do some serious shopping there over the next couple of days as well.

Location:Gnosall

A Gnother day at Gnosall

We took a walk around the area called Gnosall Acres, where some development money has been spent putting in a board walk of recycled rubber across a marshy area. It made a pleasant change and a relaxed way to walk up to the shops in Gnosall, though we only managed to see one wren by way of wildlife.

After drawing cash from the Post Office and doing a bit more shopping in the Co-op, we called in at the butcher in Gnosall Heath and bought some pork chops for tomorrow night.

And that's been about it for today; the weather is rather grey and cold, but forecast to improve as the week goes on. Sheila looked up the answers to the stuff we couldn't get in Saturday's giant crossword and bought this month's Kindle book as we can't be sure of a decent internet connection at Norbury.

When I've done this, Sheila will give my hair a trim.

It's exciting stuff; if it's too much, let me recommend the world's oldest still-running experiment, a study of the flow characteristics of pitch they've had going at the University of Queensland since 1927. In all that time, the pitch sitting in a funnel suspended over a beaker has dripped eight times. A ninth is confidently expected sometime this year. There's a webcam focussed on it, so if watching paint dry is your thing, try this…

/wahaha

Just a little bit further

It used to be a case of Gnosignall at Gnosall, but things are slowly improving. The Vodafone service is still nowhere to be found, but there's a usable T-mobile and a respectable 3 offering, so we've got two sources of data and one of voice. The moral for continuous and extended cruisers is that it's a really good idea to have at least two possible connections on the go, perhaps one monthly contract and one or two PAYG deals.

It means that I can share this photo with you of the view from our wonderfully peaceful mooring at Valencia:

With not far to go, we had a really lazy start this morning, not setting off until half nine or so. Forty minutes cruising got us to Gnosall; there were just one or two boats about, but the cut still feels very quiet.

Our preferred mooring here is on the visitor moorings just after Cowley Tunnel, preferably at the far end near the next bridge. This gets you onto fairly unshaded towpath, whereas all the rest of the generous space tends to be a bit down in the dark.

We were all tied up and sorted by 10.20 and decided to go shopping before coffee. Neither of the small shops in Gnosall Heath, the part nearest the canal, had a loaf we fancied, so we ended up walking up the hill into Gnosall proper and raiding the Co-op. On the way back, in bright sun and with not very heavy loads, we decided to take the long way round. This means walking along the greenway on top of an old railway embankment until it crosses the canal at the far end of the moorings, just where the 48 hour section turns into 5 day.

These latter were completely deserted and there were just a few boats on the shorter term stuff. Back at the boat it was too late for coffee, so we put things away and pottered about until it was time for lunch.

Just as I was recovering from my post prandial doze, the boat The Lady Margaret turned up with her usual crew of Roger, Margaret and John. They stopped for a natter and to tell us that they'll be at the reopening of the repaired Dutton Breach at the end of next week, Roger presently being the acting chairman of the Trent and Mersey Canal Society.

It sounds as if the repair has been very thorough; mooring rings have been added where a concrete cap has been installed, and even the milepost, which had been washed away with the canal bank, has been found, repainted and re-erected.

After they'd boated off, Sheila washed the galley floor and I polished it; the plan is to do the floor in segments like this in future, rather than knocking ourselves out trying to do the whole lot at once.

We'll stay put here tomorrow, then chug on to Norbury on Tuesday.

Nasty start, better end

Bit of a problem here, I do like to start with the positives, and then deal with less good things later, but on the other hand, it's a good idea to stick with some sort of chronological order, on the basis that at least some of my readers are as easily confused as I am. And frankly, today didn't get off to a good start.

Oh, I know: Andy Murray has just won Olympic gold to add to all the other medals Team GB has. That's great stuff. And I've just placed an Ocado order for tomorrow for Norbury Junction, where they didn't used to deliver.

Good, that feels better.

Right, now for it: we'd decided to make a prompt start today, dropping down the lock first thing and onto the water point before we ate breakfast, and then toddling on to Gnosall. So after tea in bed and getting washed and dressed, Sheila went off to set the lock, and I got the boat ready. It was half seven, so I didn't start the engine until I'd let the bow line and stern spring go.

Then I started up, going back to tickover straight away, and untied the final stern line. As I was coiling it up to put on the slide, the guy who lives in the trailer home on the offside came out in his dressing gown and started effing and blinding at me for running my engine before eight o'clock.

Now, it is the case that you are not supposed to run gennies or engines for battery charging purposes before that time, but there is no restriction on when you choose to navigate (though many hire yards prohibit moving their boats in the dark). I tried explaining this to chummy, but he wasn't having it, and offered to come down to the lock "to f***ing sort you out" if I persisted on disagreeing with him.

So I waved him goodbye and boated off, followed by shouts of "and don't effing come back, you a***hole!"

It leaves you a bit shaken, that sort of thing, and my heart rate has gone up a bit just typing this, but fortunately it's pretty rare. I can only think of two such occasions, including this one, in 37 years of boating, some of that time as a truly incompetent novice hirer. Admittedly, the other occasion was just the other week at Great Haywood, but there you go. Maybe it's my hairstyle.

There was an upside; as we worked down the lock, the old working boats Tench and Greyhound were getting ready to go up, trad engines cracking away in fine style. We mentioned what had happened to the steerer of Tench, and she offered to give him a blast on her klaxon as she went by…

After that, life was pretty uneventful. We had a good chug to here, with a fair bit of traffic coming the other way, but no mishaps. I held back at one bridge hole for an approaching boat, and a boat waited for me to get out of Cowley tunnel before entering, but all was very calm and relaxed.

We've popped up into the village to do some top up shopping, and as I say, we're getting a delivery to Norbury tomorrow, which will help with the depleted state of the food cupboards. The weather still looks a bit unsettled, but there's not much wind in the forecast, so no big probs there.

Up the Shroppie again

The Shroppie remains one of our favourite canals, though we met a guy the other week who'd tried it once and didn't like it. It's such a contrast to the dreamy windings of the Staffs and Worcs, with its cuttings and embankments, long straights and remote air. As the Pearson's guide says, it's hard to remember that you are only a few dozen miles north of the Black Country.

The guy who hadn't been taken with it sounded to have seen it at its worst, with wet and windy weather making navigation a chore. It has to be said, the continuing growth of on-line moorings is a problem. Travelling times are much longer the the typical 3 lock-miles per hour, because you spend so much time creeping past moorings at tickover.

We set off from last night's mooring at around half seven, expecting to do the nine miles and one lock in about three hours. Instead, it was after half eleven before we'd tied here at Gnosall. Some of the delay was caused by increasing levels of traffic, not at Wheaton Aston Lock, where we had a straightforward one up one down routine, but at some of the bridge holes, and particularly at Cowley Tunnel. Sheila held back in the cutting before the tunnel for one boat, and ended up letting another two through before it was our turn.

No matter, we were still on our mooring before lunchtime. We've done a bit of shopping in both Gnosall Heath and Gnosall itself, just enough to see us through to Friday, when we should be in Market Drayton.

After that, traffic may become even more of a problem, as we negotiate the Adderley and Audlem lock flights. Talking to a boat coming the otherway, it seems Middlewich is being a real bottleneck just now, but that may have eased off by the time we get there.

At least on the Shroppie, there's no shortage of water, thank to the generous donations of the population of Wolverhampton, whose water treatment plants feed both this canal and the S&W. It seems things are getting pretty difficult further south, with both the GU Leicester Line and the Oxford on very short working times indeed.

Going South to go North

The odd thing about this bit of the Four Counties ring is that you travel south for a few days (OK, for one day if you are a hirer ;) ) in order to reverse direction at Autherley and head north again. I'm not complaining, you understand, but it's entertaining that you could probably walk to Penkridge from Gnosall across country a good deal quicker than you can boat it.

I visited the butcher before we set off, as we'd run out of fresh meat, but he didn't have much stock left; no chickens at all, for example. Presumably, all across the country, anything that could be barbecued was being flung on there this weekend.

I got some mince, and a nice bit of braising steak that I plan to curry tonight. Off we went, just after nine, with around four hours to do to get to our favourite mooring by Bridge 7. We'd not been underway long when a woman walking a dog on the towpath told us that she'd seen a baby hedgehog tumble down into the cut from the steep side of the cutting just beyond Cowley Tunnel.

We basically made 'well, well, how sad' gestures at her, but the next thing we knew, she'd been home, got on her bike, and was coming back to supervise us saving it. Now, I'm as fond of hedgehogs as the next person (though I've never baked one, see comments about barbecue above), but last I heard, they were not under threat, and the fate of most baby animals is to be eaten. Nonetheless, we showed willing, and I stood by with the boat hook to try and fish it out. Our supervisor had announced that if we did so, she would take it home and look after it.

There was no sign of it where she'd spotted it, so we carried on by. Looking back, we saw her waving her arms at us from further along, but it was too late to start trying to reverse in the narrow cutting. In any event, there were lots of boats about, so hopefully she was able to persuade another one to help.

I don't feel guilty, I'm afraid; in the cause of average hedgepig IQ, the ones that don't jump off a cliff ought to be the ones that survive to breed.

The weather slowly deteriorated, and eventually started to rain, so I retreated to the cabin. As I did so, I heard the phone ringing, and got to it just too late. David from Norbury left a voicemail asking me to ring back, and when I did, he made a handsome apology for the damage to our new blacking. He quite fairly pointed out that, if we'd complained, he'd have had the scratches touched in, and said we could have a free pump out next time we pass instead.

Thinking back on it, it is true that I should have said something straight away, but some of these things are a slow burn matter, and it's only after a while that you go "Hang about, that's not on." In addition, the cosmetic stuff isn't the point, really, we'll touch that in ourselves before Crick along with all the others that have appeared on the way there. It's the fact that there will almost certainly be other scrapes below the waterline that none of us can do much about.

Never mind, ringing up was the decent thing to do, and makes me feel much better about the boatyard.

It became clear that we weren't going to make the mooring before lunch, so for the first time this year, I got the Diablo out and made us a toastie each, using a chicken and mushroom Heinz Toast Topper that we got in Netto in Market Drayton the other day. Just the job, though the filling became very hot, and needed approaching with care.

Tomorrow, we plan a crack of dawn start, especially as the weather is scheduled to be at its best first thing. We've a way to go, but should be at Hatherton by lunch time.

Off we go again.

Having praised Norbury Wharf in my last blog, I find I have to qualify that this time, I fear. Things started well this morning, with one of the guys lifting the end of the top stop plank at five to eight, just as we were getting breakfast. The dock took just on an hour to refill, and they started shuffling boats about to clear a route out up the arm as it was finishing.

With the planks out of the way, and the gangway lifted up, we all started to pull the boat towards the bright sunny morning. Unfortunately, the boat shuffling hadn't been quite enough, and both as we left the dock, and again as we got to the bridge over the towpath, quantities of our nice new blacking were left behind on copings and other boats. I know that it will get scraped soon enough, but for it not to survive even the exit from the dock is infuriating. I mean this is 845 quidsworth we're talking about.

In addition, the roof was covered in fine rusty detritus from the cross beams of the dock roof, which are elderly steel, and an offer to wash us off would not have come amiss.

I suspect part of the problem is that there's only a skeleton staff on a Sunday, and we'd not long started on the boat moving when Steve got a call on the radio to come and see the day boat out. This added an air of rush to the whole thing, and Steve went off well before we'd left the arm.

It's a real pity; as I said yesterday, the quality of the work was good, and the charge very reasonable, but we'll think hard before going back.

I'll get the photos sorted out in the next couple of days and put them up.

Having got onto the service wharf, we had another rather expensive pump out and some cheap diesel, and a couple of bags of house coal. Then we crossed over to the water point and settled down to refill the tank whilst starting a washload.

Here we had another irritating experience. There are a lot of boats tied on the offside opposite the water point, so that there was just enough room (maybe nine or ten foot) to pass our stern. Most boats made it without difficulty, just slowing down and taking  it easy. This strategy did not commend itself to the hirer on Sir Galleron from Countrywide Cruisers, who kept the revs on, swung Sanity Again about and finally clouted her one.

The hose reel fell off the bow locker lid, taking my nearly full mug of coffee with it. Coffee and bits of mug covered the well deck, so it's goodbye to my personal Braunston tunnel mug that I've been using ever since we moved on board.

Heigh ho, it's too nice a day to stay angry for long, I guess.

We've stopped at Gnosall for the night. No Vodafone signal on the 48 hour moorings – you have to stop on the 5 day ones in the cutting for that – but a fast 3 connection.

We walked up into Gnosall proper to get some fresh lettuce and cucumber, but no Voda signal up there, either. Very odd – I mean, I know we're out in the wop wops as they say in NZ, but surely Gnosall is a big enough place to justify a mast?

Tomorrow, on through Wheaton Aston and Brewood to stop by Bridge 7, then a long day to Hatherton, definitely not stopping in the Pendeford area, it being the school holidays. We've noticed a huge increase in boat traffic already, so no doubt the little darlings on the estates round there will be out and about and looking for mischief.

and now, it's Gnosall

Just as I was finishing off the blog last night, who should appear but Windsong and Serenity. We knew they were coming up from behind, so weren't too surprised to see them. It's always nice to catch up with fellow bloggers, and we had a good old natter in the wonderful sunshine.

The mooring at Bridge 7 would be absolutely idyllic, were it not for the M54, the noise from which can be heard as a continuous gentle roar, dying down a little at night. It's not as bad as many locations, but it is a shame that so many of our most rural stretches of canal have been affected by motorway construction.

Notwithstanding the background sounds, we had a decent night's kip, and were up even earlier than before, setting off at half seven to take advantage of the morning's beauty. As we were working down the lone lock of today's programme, Wheaton Aston, Sheila got into conversation with Jim and Sheena off Arlanza, who are thinking about their next boat, and admitted to an interest in getting a Braidbar. The upshot was that we stopped on the towpath below the lock and showed them round Sanity Again.

They made all the right noises (what judgment! what taste!), and we hope to see them again at Crick Show. This took up a bit of time, and a bit more was spent on the nice new wharf at Turner's, filling up with red diesel at 74.9 pence per litre for domestic use.

It all put us back a shade, schedulewise, so we had lunch on the move, or rather, I did, and Sheila was just starting hers when Cowley Tunnel appeared in the distance. We've tied on the first set of visitor moorings; there's a good 3 signal here, but almost no Vodafone one, unless you prowl up and down the towpath or climb the bank alongside it, when a measly single bar appears on the phone.

It takes you back to the bad old days, when mobile phone networks were just spreading out from the towns. No matter, it's another great location, with a butcher and a general store just down the road. It's going to be pork "escallops" (the butcher's name for them; they look like loin chops to me) with garlic marinade, mash and sweetcorn tonight.

Heading North on the Shroppie

25th & 26th February

We got away by nine on a cool, misty, murky day yesterday, cruising the best bit of the northern section of the Staffs and Worcs, the summit from Gailey to Pendeford Rockin'. In typical fashion, we met nothing moving until we approached the Rockin', whereupon an OwnerShips, Spring Dew, appeared just as we were lining up.

In the absence of any wind, it was no big deal to wait for them to emerge: they told us that there were two boats ahead of us. We had been aware of one, as Epinone, a Louis and Joshua, had passed us whilst we were eating breakfast.

I'm pleased to say that I managed the rather tricky turn into the Shroppie at Autherley, or Cut End as the old boaters called it, without touching the sides. It's a very acute turn coming from the North, as the Shroppie runs almost parallel to the Staffs and Worcs for the first couple of miles.

Through the stop lock it was another challenge to get past all the Napton Narrowboats tied just beyond. The next bit of cut was lined with fishermen, but they seemed a relatively cheerful bunch, and several exchanged a few words with us as we went by.

There's this big variation in the anglers you pass; I'm always ready with a smile or nod, or to try to take whatever line they signal they'd prefer, but sometimes they just don't look at you. It can be hard to guess just where they've prepared their swim – when in doubt, take the centre, but always be ready to move to one side or the other. I've even known one ask me to send a bit of prop wash into where he's fishing, if he wants the water a bit murkier than it is.

On the way up the Shroppie, we spotted a group of 14 herons all standing around in a field – most unusual for the UK, though presumably the term heronry implies that they make a habit of it somewhere or sometime.

We tied between Bridges 7 and 8 just in nice time for lunch, to the sound of a skylark calling; Sheila managed to spot it, but I was too busy navigating to be able to take the time needed to do so. After lunch, we identified three geocaches nearby, one to the north and two to the south, so we popped out and found the southern ones. It wasn't a mega haul like the other day, but still a very pleasant stroll on a cool early Spring day.

Back at the boat I did some internet work, then Sheila took over whilst I showered. We didn't need any heat in the boat during the day, but I relit the stove and ran the Eberspacher as things cooled down in the late afternoon.

It has been much cooler again today, with a sharp wind blowing from the West. Sheila had soon steered us to Wheaton Aston, where we worked down the lock and stopped at Turners for diesel. He's currently charging 48.9 pence per litre at domestic rate, and will take any split you want to declare. We're now running at 20% propulsion, having been down on 10% whilst hanging around for the last month.

Note that even if you declare the "standard" 60/40 split, that still works out at less than 75 ppl overall, so I don't understand anyone who prefers to collect white diesel at around 99 ppl from the local supermarket.

Refuelled, we went on to Gnosall; not being sure that we'd get there in time to shop for lunch, I made some bread from a kit as we boated along. We've tied on the visitor moorings just through the tunnel, not far from where we took part in our little bit of real life Casualty drama last year.

The Vodafone connection is pretty poor here, but the T-mobile internet is not bad. After walking into the village to shop, we came back and watched a DVD, the copy of St Trinians that Elanor lent us before we left Alrewas.

Tomorrow, we'll go on to Norbury to water and visit the chandlery, then finish at Market Drayton to do a supermarket session.

Some days, all your plans gang agley

24th & 25th February

Sunday was a day of two halves, with a relaxed start and a dramatic afternoon. We'd planned on the relaxed bit for the whole day – Elanor had stayed overnight, we'd had a good night the night before, and so we lay in a bit in the morning.

Things started to unravel around 11 o'clock, when the toilet tank suddenly announced it was full. The Tankwatch gauge has four lights – green for empty, yellow: starting to fill, amber: half full and red: it's running out into the cut. The amber light hadn't come on but the red one did – clearly the sensor for the amber had stuck, always a bit of a problem with toilet tank gauges.

Fortunately Elanor was pretty well ready to leave, so we saw her off, and shot into the village to get fresh supplies, with the aim of an early lunch and an afternoon trip to Wheaton Aston, rather than leaving that until today.

This plan started well, and we were underway by 12.30. As we approached Cookley Tunnel, which is the exit from Gnosall, we saw some activity by the cliff face on the offside that precedes the tunnel mouth. Some kids were climbing around on it and shouting, and a woman was standing on the towpath shouting back.

It turned out that an 11 year old lad had fallen or jumped off the top of the 15 foot high cliff, and was now lying in a heap at the bottom, moaning. Sheila was steering, and put Sanity's bow onto the offside so that I could get off and see if he was hurt.

Even the most cursory exam showed that although he was conscious and breathing easily, his legs were injured, so I called across to the woman on the towpath to dial 999. Then it was a matter of keeping him covered with a blanket off the boat until the first paramedic got there about 15 minutes later.

Access for the emergency team was at the bridge back at the moorings, along the towpath and then across Sanity, using her as a pontoon bridge. After half an hour or so we had a good collection of ambulance crew, paramedics and police, and a helicopter had been summoned.

When the casualty had been duly stabilized on a spinal board with neck collar and all, they loaded him onto Sanity's bow and we pushed across to the other side so that he could be carried to the chopper to be taken off to N Staffs Infirmary, the nearest major trauma unit. It seemed possible that he'd managed to break both femurs and perhaps a knee cap.

It just shows how much damage you can do falling off a comparatively small height.

It was gone 2 o'clock before we were on our way again, and we got to Wheaton Aston at around four. Here we discovered, as we'd hoped, that the facility is suitable for self pump out, and we took about an hour pumping, rocking and not ooching* but flushing with a good high pressure spray.

Despite all this the green light didn't come on, but we'd clearly got as much out as we were likely to. I reversed Sanity back through the bridge to a visitor mooring handy for the landing for the garage on the road above, which has always sold some of the cheapest red diesel on the system – 57.5 p per litre at the moment.

Today we decided to stay put and sort ourselves out after yesterday's excitement. We've invited my nephew Michael over from Germany to stay a few days with us in May, paying for his air fare as an 18th birthday present, and I wanted to use the Moneygram facility at the Post Office to send him the cash.

This proved to be easy to arrange, so back at the boat I emailed him the magic number and the URL of Moneygram's website so he could find a bank at which to claim his dosh.

Then we swept and washed the floor before lunch, so as to be able to stand the mattress on it without getting it muddy. After lunch we took all the soft furnishings off the bed, and Sheila retreated to the saloon whilst I removed enough of the bed base slats to access the top of the sender for the Tankwatch gauge.

Removing it demonstrated that a mixture of sludge and toilet scale was stopping the sensors from moving easily, thus explaining the erratic performance of the gauge. After cleaning it up (what a world of horror can be contained in a few short words), I reassembled it and satisfied myself that things are now working properly again.

After washing ny hands several times, and putting the bed back together, we planned to have an early cup of tea. Checking email produced one from Michael – there are no Moneygram agents in either Osnabruck, his local town, or Munster, where the airport is.

Back the PO I went, where the guy assured me that he'd never come across that phenomenon before. Anyway, because it was the same working day, I got all the cash back, including the (not small) fee. I'll just have to send him the money via my bank, which is more longwinded, but they can send him a check direct to his house.

Meanwhile, my main email address is out of action today – major server failure at Vispa, my ISP. Vispa is cheap, but we do have difficulties like this from time to time.

The good news is that the stoppage at Wheaton Aston lock has come off early, so tomorrow we can head off to Brewood, and subsequently down the Staffs and Worcs to Kinver where Wilson's will restitch a zip in the cratch cover.

*yacht racing joke for Peter Mason.

Walking in circles can be fun

22nd & 23rd February

Friday morning arrived with a phenomenal amount of wind, causing us to rethink our plan to move to Gnosall – the Shelmore embankment is no place to be in a strong cross wind. The visitor moorings were still half empty, so we didn't feel too guilty about staying an extra day.

In order to avoid a totally lazy day, we explored a circular walk after lunch, starting just across the road from the boatyard. We walked across some fields to a very minor road, eventually turning off onto a bridle way which brought us round to the road which crosses the canal via the High Bridge over Grub Street cutting. Then it was a case of walking back along the towpath to the junction. It took us about an hour all told, just right for a postprandial stroll.

Apart from that it was a pretty quiet day, really, except for the noise of the wind. The major intellectual exercise was composing a rejoinder to Adrian Stott's piece in the latest Waterways World, wherein he argues for continuous cruisers being charged an additional £1500 per annum, to make up for the extra use they make of water points and the like. We've submitted it to WW as a letter to the editor – if they don't use it, I'll post it here in due course.

Today we made a prompt start – the heating was set to come on at seven, and we were boating by about 8.15. It was a calm but cloudy morning, but we knew that the wind was due to get up again later, hence the unusual alacrity in getting going.

It's about than an hour's boating from Norbury to Gnosall, so by 9.30 we were on the water point topping up the tank. There's no Vodafone signal in this village whatsoever that I can find, so we've had to put the Orange Pay As You Go SIM in the phone in order to liaise with Elanor on her way over to see us.

Once we were sorted with a mooring and the washing machine had finished doing its thing, we took a walk to get some supplies and to remind ourselves of the layout here. There are actually two villages – the canal is at Gnosall Heath, and Gnosall proper is about a mile away, so quite walkable.

There's a decent range of basic shops at Gnosall Heath, and a few more plus a Post Office at Gnosall. You can walk along the road from one to t'other, or there's a footpath along an old railway embankment to Bridge 35A, enabling another circular walk to be made of it.

As I write this the wind has indeed come up again, so we made the right decisions (makes a change). The forecast is for a calm day on Monday, but windy again Tuesday and Wednesday, so it looks like we'll move on Monday and then sit tight again for a couple of days.