1 lock down from the top of Buckby Flight to past Bridge 88, North Oxford Canal

The Geraghty zoom didn’t go as well as normal. Despite good upload speeds and the internet otherwise seemingly fine, all of Mick’s siblings kept freezing, we reciprocated at their end. The IT department had a go at sorting it out, but failed. We still caught bits of the conversation though, insulation and Bumble Bees, Cherry Pickers Finger and the Chinese falling off things. We ended up leaving early as there was little point in us remaining.

Up the last lock of the Buckby flight, everyone else had moved off long ago, at least we’d missed the rush.

As Oleanna rose the last few feet Barry Manilow was singing his heart out along the cut. Once he’d stopped for a breather Karen Carpenter started up, followed by Dr Hook. None of the boats on the moorings looked like they had their doors or windows open, so it must have been SO loud inside. As we filled with water and delt with the yellow water it kept my toes tapping.

Up to Norton Junction. A quiet horn could be heard, we were far enough back for a boat to turn, then nothing. A dog walker had been taking her time along the towpath, I think she’d prompted the boat coming from the Leicester Section to sound their horn again, by now we were just out of their view but at the junction, we sounded our horn in reply and carried on knowing we’d clear the junction and be out of their way quickly.

The scenic view moorings were quite busy, but there would have been space for one this morning? Approaching the tunnel we passed at least three boats having just come through from Braunston, the question was, how many would we meet in there?

A view straight through to the other end, this meant we’d get past the wiggly bit before we met anyone. If fact we’d reached the far end just as a boat approached turning it’s light on. Behind we were being followed, a locking partner, however it was time for our lunch. Tilly approved of our mooring through the window, that was as close as she was going to get!

Mick looked up from his lunch. ‘Did you lock The Shed and upstairs upstairs at the house? I didn’t!’ Neither had I. New lodgers due today, one of whom we’ve known for decades and would trust, the other a very brand new actress. I’m sure she’d be fine, but you never know. A lodger earlier in the year had asked why the doors were locked and we’d rather be asked that question. A quick think, who could we ask to pop round within the hour and give the house a quick check as Darren was meant to have left this morning. A message sent to Sue who’s Aunt used to own our house and she lives pretty close, instructions given on how to get in.

We moved up to the lock, a boat appeared behind us. Sue had gained access, I’d warned her that a bed might not have been made up, I’d also had the feeling that Darren might have just left things not as he’d found them. This feeling turned out to be correct. Sue made up the bed, hoovered round, emptied bins, what a star. Then a message came through. ‘There’s a lot of used towels in the bathroom’. I usually do a last minute check round the house before we leave, but due to my knee I’d not wanted to go back up the stairs and had assumed Mick would have dealt with them, a bit like the keys! Oh heck what rubbish landlords leaving their own towels about the place! Sue was still about when our first lodger arrived, jobs just about done, we owe someone a big drink when we next see her. If we hadn’t had the chap in last week as a favour to the theatre, we’d have at least left the bed made, bins emptied, but the towels might still have been there. Mental note made for next turn around, Must do better!

Our locking partners were a couple from Tasmania over to see family and spend a week relaxing on a hire boat, they do it every couple of years. I felt a touch bad constantly checking my phone and talking towels for much of the flight. Plenty of boats coming up and at least one behind us, quite hot on our heels where the locks only have ground paddles.

We’d considered stopping for a loaf of bread, word from the up hill boats that there was no room in Braunston. Mick bobbed into the shop at the bottom lock, a treat loaf of bread bought we’d no longer need to stop. Midland Chandlers is closed on a Sunday so no filters could be bought.

We counted at least five spaces as we came through Braunston. Hardly full, apart from in front of the pub. The bridge into the marina was having work done to it, big areas of white paint missing and hessian covering the top stones. Onwards past Braunston Turn, straight onto the North Oxford, still more spaces.

Once through bridge 88 we spied a length of armco and pulled in. Tilly was allowed an hour and a half by which time we were surrounded by more boats. Our nearest neighbours a Dutch family saying that Braunston was full. Here was now, maybe we’d just timed our cruising well today.

6 locks, 5.6 miles, 3 golden oldies, 1 full water tank, 1 empty wee tank, £3+ for a loaf of bread, 4 towels left out, 2 keys, 2 new lodgers, 1 disappointing lodger, 1 super star of a Stage Manager, 1 tunnel, 0 boats passed, 2 mysterons, 90 minutes.