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.