Something in the air

Wheaton Aston has one good thing going for it – Turner's garage on the bridge sells diesel for about as cheap as you can get it. It's self-service on their little wharf, once you've told them you're there so they can turn the pump on. Sometimes you see warnings about dodgy diesel, but we've never had occasion to regret buying it there.

Tonight we've ended up on the 48 hour moorings at Wheaton Aston, because by the time we'd done what we needed to do it was a bit late to be pushing on down the cut. Several years ago the lock here was our first serious experience of doggy do danger. So we're always on the look-out for the stuff. Today it caught me unawares on Turner's wharf, which meant I had to walk back to the water point to clean my shoe – this is the main disadvantage, I think, of a nice deep tread on trainers.

Now apart from risks underfoot, this mooring seems OK – reasonably quiet, trees around but not overhead. But there is a definite whiff of something in the air. My best beloved is sure it is the pervasive odour of the doggy droppings with which this place is forever associated in our minds. I'm not so sure, and think it's more likely to be a smelly local plant – something like flourishing currant in your garden, which is best admired from a distance. Whatever, we shall not be sorry to get away first thing in the morning.