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70 now and our five wonderful years aboard our narrowboat Skyy seem along time ago. Jacquie, allowed me to build my replica three wheeler kit car, which was a great success. Now it's time to start on a bigger project and that is to make a good Triumph Stag even better, here goes.

Monday 17 October 2011

LEFT IN A PICKLE

TUESDAY 11TH TO WEDNESDAY 12TH OCTOBER 2011


We were prepared for an early start on Tuesday but the wind didn’t die down at all over night, but fortunately by the time we had breakfasted it had moderated and we ventured out onto the Trent, but it still took almost the whole width of the river before SKYY answered the helm and turned upstream. The girls decided to walk Duggie along the towpath and they arrived at Sawley lock, with the BW key and after a minimum of delay they emptied and opened the lock for us.

Before we left the river for the security of the Trent and Mersey Canal, just for the hell of it we passed under the new footbridge and continued until the entrance to Shardlow Marina, before swinging SKYY around and heading back. Unfortunately we misjudged the turn and run the bow aground on the gravel, the current pushed the stern back round, but John saved the day by poling the bow back into the current which pulled us around in the right direction and then the stern came free.

Back onto the canal we pushed on bypassing ‘The Home of Marstons Pedigree Ales’, until late in the day, in the gathering gloom, we got the last mooring outside the Dragon at Willington, as soon as we were secure I popped into this smartly refurbed pub and booked a table. It was Kim and John’s wedding anniversary and we wanted a meal to remember to celebrate this day and it did, for all the right reasons. It was just as well that I had booked a table as it was buzzing by the time we walked in, it was an imaginative menu, the food was artistically presented and extremely tasty, a great end to an exciting day.


Kim and John were leaving us on Wednesday afternoon and the Bridge Inn at Branston was to be their departure point. We thought sandwiches and a bowl of chips would be a good idea whilst we waited for the taxi to arrive, but at the Bridge that wasn’t an option, the Sicilian born proprietor was only serving pasta or pizza and our various selections were all delicious, what a good surprise.

The taxi took Kim and John away leaving us for the rest of the day, in what was the home of the famous Branston pickle, of which there is now no sight or smell. Lack of smell, however, was probably no bad thing.

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