Saturday 20 June 2015


Two or three years ago we acquired somewhere a plastic box which had previously held some sort of cattle feed supplement. It has served us well for holding mooring pins, windlasses and so on, and also for holding us away from the bank when there’s a bit of a shelf. Our mooring at Middlewich is shallow, so the box was called into action. I fastened a rope around its middle (it’s a rectangular shape) and hung it down from Erin Mae’s side, about half-way along.

But when we got up this morning my best beloved decided she definitely did not like the tilt we were experiencing, and I found the box had wriggled free from its line. Not only was it no longer holding us away from the bank, it is now probably contributing to the detritus underneath the boat, holding us up at the sort of angle where the kitchen drawers slide out under their own weight. I haven’t managed to locate it yet, so (a) we may continue to be unbalanced, and (b) we may have lost the box – which would be a shame, both for us and for the canal.

Last night’s festival concert was good fun. A local band played a mixture of bluegrass, country and jazz, with some funky banjo and mandolin work.  Then “Headsticks” played an aggressive set with lots of energy.

For my taste, however, they didn’t get it right. They started with Mississippi Burning, and had some other protest-type songs with some interesting ideas and lyrics, but in between numbers the lead singer was jollying us along, asking us if we were having a good time, and telling us all we needed to do was be nice to each other and have some respect. It failed the coherence test.

Lindisfarne were on good form. Powerful harmonies, good singing and instrumental work, and a good rapport with the crowd.

Definitely not unbalanced. Unlike us.


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