Home run

I've always thought of moorhens as being rather timorous beasties.

Those round Erin Mae at last night's mooring were clamouring like ducks to be fed and/or admired.

Perhaps birds have different cultures on different canals. The herons on the Shroppie all flap away once we're within 10 yards (only to have to repeat the manoeuvre 50 yards further on – birdbrain!), while some canals have herons that stay where they are as we pass – albeit a little nervously.

We were saying our good-byes, when the Little Chimney Company boat passed, but then moored up just beyond where we'd been. The tiller construction on the butty is positively splendid. I promised them an honourable mention on the blog tonight – nice to see you!

So we pushed on to Fradley Junction at our own pace – the first time we've approached it from this direction. The swing bridge to enter the basin is the easiest we've encountered all summer (and we've met a few!). Not even a locking mechanism to release.

Turning left we were on the first stretch of water that wasn't new to us since Wigan on 2nd July. And it wasn't long before a sight of the Rugeley power station towers told us we were getting near to base.

So – just one more night in the wild before we're back at the marina.