Mile marker 23ish to Morse Lock 49 to Shireoaks visitor mooring

Sorry Tilly, no shore leave this morning we needed to get moving. We pushed of at 9:30 an overcast with patches of sun morning, we needed to cruise a mile and a half to Worksop Manton Lock 52 arriving at 11am to meet with CRT Lock Keepers, the next two locks are assisted passage only on Mondays and Thursdays 11 to 1. The Chesterfield being shallow meant we wanted to have more than enough time to reach the lock.

Rounding the first bend I remembered the next lock, metal boxes over the paddle gear that are really awkward to open and lock, at least there’d be someone there to help with them. When we arrived a boat was moored on the lock landing above. How had that got there? Had they got locked in somehow on Monday?

We tied up and walked up to chat. It was NB Robin Hood a hire boat from West Stockwith. They’d arrived below the lock yesterday, not knowing it would be locked. One of the crew had walked along the gunnel to reach somewhere dry to step off. As she’d stepped down (quite a height) onto the landing her foot slipped off the stone edging down the back of it into a big hole. Paramedics were called, they needed to get the lady closer to a road for access to an ambulance, so CRT came out unlocked the lock so they could head up to the next lock. They’d winded and returned when the crew were back on board with a badly sprained ankle. It was their first time on a narrowboat and had been loving it, thankfully it hasn’t put them off another boating holiday.

Mike, CRT Lock Keeper from West Stockwith arrived pulling what looked like a rug doctor behind him, it turned out to be a bin full of ash to ash up the lock once we were through. Yesterday he’d been called out to open the lock for the hire boat and had dropped the padlock into the lock, so this lock wasn’t actually locked. We worked the hire boat down as the lock was in their favour, then it was our turn. It turns out that Mike lives next door to Lesley and Clive from NB Christopher B whom we travelled with from West Stockwith to Thorne a couple of years ago. Lesley had an accident at the lift bridge before Thorne which necessitated her being in hospital for quite some time and she was unable to walk for six months. It was good to hear she is now up on her feet again.

Ahead another boat was coming from Worksop. A familiar boat green on one side red the other, had we met them on the River Soar or somewhere before? Not sure. They had been to the very top of the Chesterfield and found some gates to be heavy, last night they’d moored at The Lock Keeper on the other side of the town.

At Bracebridge Lock another Lock Keeper was waiting for us, time to chat as Mick brought Oleanna along. Did Worksop still deserve it’s bad press? We were hoping to moor along the next stretch for a few hours. The Lock Keeper was careful in how he phrased things. This next pound was their worst on the Chesterfield, they’ve had homeless people camping out, but if we moored along the middle stretch near where cars are parked? We’d see what we thought of it.

A length of armco, possible, we’d rather be on chains than spikes even though there was very unlikely to be any passing traffic on the canal. We carried on. A group of young teenagers fishing below the next lock, the bollards looked inviting but we just had that feeling that we should carry on. The kids joked as kids do as I walked up to the lock that sits part way under the road bridge, a jigsaw puzzle scattered over the steps if one fancied a go whilst waiting for the lock to fill or empty, although not having the box meant I had no clue as to what the picture would be.

The gates opened fine, but when it came to close them there was an obstruction, I really hoped it wasn’t the dead hedgehog I’d seen floating in the lock. We opened and closed the gate, Mick prodded about with the boat hook and eventually found a plastic pot of some sort. Obstruction gone, we were on our way again.

The next stretch towards Morse Lock felt better, would there be enough depth for us to moor up somewhere? Mick suggested actually pulling up on the mooring bollards, after all we’d been told by the lock keepers that we were the only boat up this way, unless someone came out from Shireoaks Marina. We pulled in and made sure we were on the very last bollards, plenty of room for another boat in front.

After lunch we made sure the boat was secure and everything out of view, even with the curtains closed you just don’t know how far Tilly pushes them to have a nosy out! We walked round Sandhill Lake then up through housing estates that have seen better days. Past the station, a very fine affair. Then up Blyth Road and onto Blyth Grove with ten minutes spare before our booking at Mr Straw’s House a National Trust property.

5 and 7 Blyth Grove, Edwardian semi detached houses, are not your average National Trust property, as the people at reception are glad to tell you. 7 was the home of William and Florence Straw, who moved in in 1923, they raised their two sons William Jnr and Walter there. The house had electric lighting to the first two floors and an inside toilet and plumbing, all mod cons of the day. After their deaths William and Walter kept the house just as it had been in their parents days the 1920’s. For over 60 years the occupants threw very little away and chose to live without many modern comforts, not even a radio! When William passed away in 1990 he left the contents of the house to the National Trust, everything catalogued, expecting it to go into a museum. The National Trust sent in an assessor to check over the collection, a normal procedure so that anything of great value can be taken away for safe keeping. The accessor reported back that there was nothing of great value in the collection, however the collection itself was priceless! The National Trust then bought the two houses so the collection could stay, 7 having been the residence of the family, 5 had been rented out.

7 is just how it had been left, things neatly ordered everywhere. 5 is now an added display area, reception and a tea room. The whole place is a time capsule from the 1920’s into the 90’s and well worth a visit, especially if you get chance to talk to Sheila who grew up knowing William and Walter, more commonly known as Tweddle Dee and Tweddle Dum by the local children. There is a lot more to tell of the green grocer who’d bought the house and his offspring and Sheila could keep on telling you stories for years to come.

From the Egyptian carpet up the stairs, the two upright pianos, the eleven chairs in the front room, the Mackintosh Quality Street tins, the newspapers wrapped up to protect their edges sorted into subjects, the green house full of cacti, the wallpaper that has been stained by the plaster, it is a wonderful place. A shame the rooms are so small so you feel you have to move on to let others get a chance, I think I could have been there all day.

They run discovery days in the house where they open drawers and cupboards to show more of the 33,000 items it holds. There are also walks around Worksop showing the shops that grocer and seed merchant William Straw ran, and the butchers shop opposite which was run by Florence’s father. I’d be very tempted to go on one of these if we happen to be in the area another time.

Back at Oleanna all was good, but we didn’t want to stay on the lock landing for the night. More locks to keep us busy. Up Morse Lock I then walked ahead leaving Mick to single hand the next lock as I popped to Sainsburys to stock up on bananas and milk, plus some sad git meatballs that were reduced in price in front of my eyes. I arrived back at the boat just as the top gate was about to be opened.

On upwards the next narrow locks, the sign says to lift your fenders, you shouldn’t have them down anyway! The last three locks are all close together so I could set ahead leaving Mick to close up behind, a good sign was all the by washes were flowing. At the middle lock a dog walker stopped to say that the pound above was too high! The bottom gate had been open for the last three days and the level above it was too high. I set him straight saying that actually it was at a perfect height, any higher and the extra would be flowing over the bywash, this was the only one of our trip so far that hadn’t.

How far were we going today? This would be our last lock for today, up the remainder tomorrow. I was then told that there were 42 locks tomorrow. Yes we were at lock 42, but the locks are numbered from Chesterfield and includes those on the detached section of the canal along with those that don’t exist anymore. The subject then turned to funding, licence fees, when he started on immigrants I knew it was time for this canal expert to keep walking! Thankfully he did.

Above the locks we pulled in, too late for Tilly shore leave. Time to put those meatballs on to cook, have a shower and get sat down to watch the final episode of The Handmaids Tale. Not as good as the previous two episodes but a good way to round off the series.

11 locks, 6.4 miles, 1 sprained ankle, 1 next door neighbour, 2 serious days boating ahead of the hire boat, 2 boaters not so sure, 5 maybe 6 missing pieces, 0 picture, 2 for Mr Straw’s house, 0 draining board, 1 bag of National Trust apples, 85 minutes brisk walking, 1 pint milk, 8 bananas, 1 big banner, 2 pooped boaters, 1 very awake Tilly!

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